I have giggled just now over a joke that only a certain friend would find funny. I won't bore you with it. It would lose its fun to be looked at askance by one who knows not the history that makes the joke fun. But my point is that friends are good. If you have one, hold on with joy and delight. If you do not then my sympathies are great.

The kidlets and I have just returned from the last in an 8-week session of swimming lessons. Adequate training, lots of fun for them--despite the chicken pox, travelling and runny noses that kept them from attending half the lessons. They asked me if they needed to wear coats and boots or were flip-flops and t-shirts ok. I tried to answer them seriously as the snow was flying around my head while I went to warm up the car.

Winter

We've been away, you know, for nearly two weeks. Visiting with family in Virginia and North Carolina. We had such a nice time.

Our return trip was uneventful and as we drove north the snow became a common sight. So much so that BTG claimed she felt that we had been seeing snow for months. It was nice to arrive home. And although I was reminded today that we have months of winter left, I know that I can and will relish the beauty of the snow now, before it gets to be too much for me. It really is pretty.

Who the Dickens?

I had put off reading Dickens with the kids, thinking them too young still. But a conversation around the table Sunday past had K2, the youngest at 7-11/12ths, asking who Scrooge was and BTG, the oldest at 11-10/12ths telling her he's a duck. OK, so not only are my children illiterate, they also have watched Disney's version of A Christmas Carol too many times. It took me only a few seconds to decide that the time had come to read the book.

Varied were the comments. But mostly negative.

I persisted.

"Marley was dead. There is no doubt whatever about that....Old Marley was
as dead as a doornail."

The surprised looks on their faces as the kidlets actually laughed out loud were as gratifying to me as the fact that they were enjoying the story. I was smug, I admit. "Maybe this won't be that bad after all," CTM says. It makes a mother proud. sigh.

Scrooge is described in sharp, pointy detail on page three.

"He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in
the dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas."

And the clincher for this proud mother: "And to think I thought this would be boring!" (BTG)

Two and a half hours later, with my voice scratchy, the story was interrupted by the return of Pieman. We picked it up again Monday and finished it Wednesday. Not one word was missed, although I'm sure many of the old English allusions were. But nobody seemed to mind. There was silence when I finished. The spell was complete.

"Young people will spend an evening with their friends through technology believing they have socialized and yet have never left their room. The ability to speak is being lost." A quote from Pastor Tim, a man who used to be a boy.

This quote will mean little to most people. That's ok. I write this as a tribute to Tim, whose face when I met him when he was just 12 will always fill my mind even though the maturity he has grown into is a much more complete picture.

My bulbs are planted, my cana lillies dug up and stored. I found a few sweet pea seeds and they have been dispersed. The shovels are put away and the gardening gloves too. Time now to wait till I start the tomatoes and things indoors to give me hope that Spring will come.

The boys have kept the furnace blazing with new wood every hour. This could be a warmer winter than last year!

It's only 8:30 and already I've run an emotional gamut. From wishing I had not woken up to realizing that my head was hurting and sleep wasn't possible anyway; from feeling groggy to invigorated and then to somewhere in the middle; from joy over news to dread of the day ahead; also looking forward to said day. Gamuts aren't always clear cut.

We're out of regular coffee. I've been tricking myself for the past day or two with decaf but today I wanted caffeine to try to help Advil kick the headache. Sometimes it works. This morning I'm trying hot chocolate with whipped cream. The sugar crash in an hour or two might be counterproductive.

BTG brought home the most beautiful maple leaves yesterday. She laid them all out on the white tablecloth. I neglected to take a picture. Today the edges are curled up and the effect is lost although the colours remain brilliant. She had talked about ironing them in wax paper--I think some of them are salvageable for that. It means changing our school plans to seize the moment. I think it will be worth it. Certainly we've derailed for reasons less noble than the preservation of beauty.

CTM has created a papier mache puppet. It's nearly done. I'm so proud of my children!

And KTU is enjoying stomping around the house in his new winter boots that he has proclaimed as cozy and comfortable. Actually he's not stomping, he's walking very softly. But the boots look like the stomping kind.

I can't do it. I read and am reminded of the real things of life: of love, of hope, of trust. I see my failures. I cannot make those memories happen. I cannot respond to the dear one who begs me to swim next time. I cannot care. Yes, I know that in God all things are possible. Indeed, only through Him can I even get out of bed. I know that in Him I can find the strength. That I will dig out my swimsuit and goggles. The cry for closeness from a little heart that I struggle to reach is stronger than my dislike of the water. But only because God softens me, hears my cry, and gives me another chance to get closer.