Beach Bums No More

IMG_4053Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful to live near Lake Michigan. Even on days when I don’t go to the beach, I can smell the lake’s fresh water and hear the music of its waves.

And with beach rocks all over the house (around clocks, picture frames, mirrors, and on door mats), my thoughts are never far from the shore. All my neighbors feel the same.

1951Mary, Tom, and I grew up spending summers on this same shoreline (left: 1951) and raised our collective brood of 17 children here. But the most authentic beach bums in the whole family have always been Mary and me.

Neither of our husbands enjoyed baking in the sun, and both were glad they didn’t have to — since Mary and I had each other to do that. Despite too much sun exposure (and the dermatologist bills to prove it), the gains have more than outweighed the losses.

Mary and I moved through 70 summers side-by-side, but then my beach buddy got terminal cancer. God graciously gave us one last summer together, though, before he carried her to heaven.

M & M.During that time we both understood that we wouldn’t be sitting on the sand together much longer, and Mary wanted to talk about it. The soothing sound of the waves made those difficult conversations easier as we faced the reality of what was just ahead.

And then how well I remember the moment she let me know her beach days were over. Though it came as a shock, she did it gently. It was probably just as hard for her to say, as it was for me to hear.

We’d been to the beach the day before, and on this perfect weather-day we’d agreed to go again, around 2:00 PM. I drove the few blocks to her cottage to pick her up, since riding bikes was no longer an option. But when I got there, she was seated in a chair on the lawn, dressed in regular clothes.

“You know,” she said, “I think I’m going to skip the beach today. Is that OK with you? I’ve been thinking about taking a nap instead.” Not once in all the years had Mary every turned down an invitation to go to the beach.

We locked eyes and in that instant we both knew what she had just said – our beach-buddy days were over. “Sure, that’s fine,” I said, with a heavy ache growing inside. “A nap sounds like a good idea.”

I sat down next to her in the yard, and we talked for a few more minutes. She chose the topic: her own funeral. She’d always been a realist, and her practical side was eager to sort out the details.

After 20 minutes or so, she stood up slowly and said, “Well I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll go lie down for a little. Greet the beach for me!”

But the beach didn’t factor into my afternoon either. It would have been no fun at all without my beach buddy. Instead I just went home and cried.

(to be continued.)

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you.” (Psalm 55:22)

Newlywed Love (#108)

October 11-14, 1970

Our J.O.Y. Sunday school class was growing. Apparently word was getting around that we had lively discussions, and curiosity was bringing people in.

Score sheetThis week Martin shook things up again with his debating. Nate was a good debater, too, having been the captain of his high school team, and I found myself keeping score — first in my head and eventually on paper.

The class was never dull, and Pastor Ralph made sure to faithfully interject Scripture. But something about the argumentative mood didn’t seem right for Sunday school. After class Nate said, “I want to talk to Ralph for a minute, OK?”

As we drove home, he told me he and Ralph had concluded that what Martin really needed was loving acceptance, not counter-arguments. Apparently he wasn’t a Christian, and Ralph was concerned he not be driven away from the church by verbal sparring. He hoped Nate and the others would work to keep things calmer. No more trying to “win.”

I felt like a bratty kid in the car when I said, “Yes, but he started it!”

Gradually, though, I came to understand the situation as Ralph (and Nate) did, and we decided to act better in class – and even pray for Martin when we thought of it. We were living and learning.

On Monday, Columbus Day, I was disappointed not to be heading back to my Danville kids, but we had the day off.  After missing Friday with poison sumac, I was looking better and wanted to explain my absence, proving it with the leftover rash. My students would love the whole story.

When Tuesday finally came and I did return, they fawned over me like I was a celebrity, each talking over the others to share their weekend stories. One little girl jumped up and down saying, “I feel good today, because mommy said I don’t have to wear an undershirt anymore!” As she was pulling her dress up to show us, we quickly moved to the next story.

pumpkin seedsOne of the boys, having had a family outing over the weekend said, “I found out what you do to pumpkin seeds.”

“What ‘s that?” I said.

“You plant a whole bunch in a little pile, and that will get you an apple tree!”

The girl next to him nodded. “I already know that,” she said, “because I did it once.”

Another boy said, “I saw where my dad works.”

“What does he do?” I said.

“The dirty work.”

My studentsI laughed, knowing the real truth was that kindergarten teachers had all the fun.

To add to the gaiety of our reunion, I’d brought Nate’s and my Super 8 movie camera to school, a wedding gift from Mary and Bevin. During recess we created a mountain of leaves, and I recorded the kids jumping and leaping into the pile.

Both the morning and afternoon groups starred in their own movie, and I told them that once it was developed, we’d get permission to show it on the big Cannon School screen.

Their great delight was also mine. Five year olds were just the best.

Jesus prayed, “Father, Lord of heaven and earth …you have hidden things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children… This is what you were pleased to do.” (Luke 10:21)

Newlywed Love (#107)

October 8-10, 1970

M and BMary’s due date, October 7, had come and gone without a baby. Though she was realistic, I wondered if something might be wrong. “Nothing to worry about,” she said. “In a week or two we’ll be holding him or her in our arms.” I decided to take her word for it, as an experienced nurse.

Meanwhile life continued for Nate and me as he poured himself into the last semester of law school and I played with 5-year-olds all day. In the month or so since school began, I’d made two new friends, Lynn and Barbara — both teachers. Once in a while we began seeing each other outside of school hours.

Lynn was a student-wife like me, living in Champaign with her new husband, and Barbara lived in Danville with hers. When our first PTA evening of the year came on October 8, Barbara invited both Lynn and I to her home after school – so we wouldn’t have to drive our 80 miles twice in one day.

The three of us put our feet up for a while and shared dinner at McDonald’s before returning to school for the long evening with parents. By the time I pulled in at home, it was almost 11:00 PM — but walking in to Nate’s hugs and kisses was the best possible end to a long day.

That night, however, I had trouble sleeping. My hands, face, and neck began to itch something fierce, and in the light of day I saw why. There were little dots everywhere, thousands of them, and each one had a white center. It was the strangest rash I’d ever seen.

Nate was concerned. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of,” I said.

“I think we better see a doctor,” he said. “And you probably shouldn’t go to school, since it might be contagious.”

Sumac conesI called in sick, and we headed for the Carle Clinic. The doctor took one look and said, “Have you been in the woods lately?”

“Well,” I said, “we did go to Allerton Park and there are woods there, but we didn’t really go into them.”

“Did you pick any plants while you were there?” And of course we had.

Unbeknownst to us, the sumac leaves and cones we’d collected were famous for causing rashes, and I had fooled around with them most of the day. The doctor explained. “Sumac poisoning is like poison oak or poison ivy but actually can be even worse.

The leaves, cones, roots… all of it has an oily resin on it that irritates skin. Once you touch it, anyplace else you touch with the resin still on your fingers can get ‘poisoned’ too. That’s why it’s on your face and forearms.”

More of Allerton.

He gave me a salve to coat the rash and said I should be looking better in a few days. That worked well with the long Columbus Day weekend just ahead.

Though I had to take a sick day, I felt just fine, so I talked Nate into a quick study break…

…at Allerton Park.

“Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health.” (3 John 1:2)