Life is a Picnic

Life is a Picnic

 By Elece Hollis

          Feeling spooked by the sound of my own footsteps in cavernous room, with it's vacant tables set in evenly-spaced rows, I made my way around the perimeters, raising the brown canvas shades from the tall windows. Light gradually filled the cold room's spaces. On the far side of the room, was a door to the hallway. I went through it continuing with my investigations and light-letting.

          Our new house was large and spacious feeling with plenty of windows and high ceilings—an old house in an established neighborhood . Though closed in by smaller houses, it reigned— Queen of the street.

          As I passed back along the hall twenty minutes later, I took another look at the porch room.  I wondered why the previous owners built it so large, why they added the kitchen area against the inner wall, why they left all the tables, and what I would use it for. With a prick of surprise, I noticed a woman and three children seated at one of the tables. The mother took sandwiches from a cooler while the children sipped at straws stuck in juice boxes.

           The scene was cheerful and peaceful enough to make me stop myself at asking who they were and how they came to be enjoying their lunch on my porch. As I stood processing the situation, a hardy rap at the back door startled me. The door opened and a smiling man entered to place a brown paper sack on the counter.                 

          "Here you go, Ma'am. Here's your supplies for the month. The boys down at the fire station will be bringing them by each month for you. We gotcha two bottles of catsup, mustard, mayo, and a couple jars of sweet relish. Need anything else, just let us know. Oh, and my name's Sam Peters. Call me Sam."

          "Hello, Sam, but you'll have to excuse me. I don't understand. See that lady with the children over there? I don't know her. They're having a picnic."

           "Oh, yeah , a cute family. She brings them here a lot. This is such a great room."

           "But, I mean,  it's my house! They are having a picnic here and I don't know them—never even met them!

           "Well, I see. Pretty soon you'll know ever'body. The whole town uses this room; been using it for years. It's like a park shelter—open to anyone. We love it!"

          "But it's my house," I declared flatly, "I live here now!"

          "Well sure, and we're proud to welcome you. Don't you worry none about things. We supply all this extry stuff folks might wanna borry," he said,   as he pulled catsup from the brown grocery bag. "That a-way folks can help theirselves and not bother you a bit. I 'preciate your keeping the porch open. Folks use it year round, 'specially in bad weather. Gotta get back,” Sam said, letting the screen door bang behind him.

          I put away the supplies and watched the family at the table. The toddlers climbed up and down the benches. Their laugher and happy voices warmed the scene. The sun shone in through the high windows and across my bed to wake me from my dream.

           The porch dream mystified and amused me. I haven't moved. I still live in my old farmhouse in the country. But, this was one of those "real" dreams, you know? Thinking about it when I woke, I remembered a little picnic basket my daughter Rachel bought at a thrift store. It was probably a Mary Engelbreit basket, with a cluster of cherries on the front along with the words: "Life is a Picnic."

          Yep, life is a picnic and it's at my house (and maybe at yours). The Lord tells us in I Peter 4 to show hospitality without grudging.  He says, "Open your homes to one another, without complaining."  He asks us to open our homes, to share our food, to serve, to provide for the needs of our fellow Christians, to welcome into our homes and our hearts the traveler, the unwanted, the poor, even the stranger.

          In the dream, the house belonged to me; yet I wouldn't refuse the town people the room. It was too wonderful. The firemen provided for my needs just as God does in my real life. Sharing my home may seem a hardship or an invasion of my privacy, but it isn't. It is a blessing like a picnic and what picnic is not a good thing? What picnic is an intrusion?

          A friend once said to me, "You sure have a lot of company, Elece. God must be trying to teach you something!" That's right; He is always trying to teach me something, because I am one of His and He loves me.  I don't see the chance to show hospitality as a punishment, but as a blessing. God trusted me with plenty to share and room to share it in.

           Life is a picnic and it's at my house. Come on in!

 What's Good About Home© 2010 Elece Hollis 

The Family Bouquet

The Family Bouquet

Nothing beats the surprise of a florist at the door with a beautiful bouquet. My sweet husband sent me a bouquet last week and it was an especially wonderful one. It was made up of roses of several colors: pink, white, and some pinks with white edges. It had a spray of orange, some purple accents, red lilies and white ones trimmed with green. There were different sizes also. Some were full blossoms with satiny petals and some swirled and curled. Some were ruffled and some speckled. Each bloom unique.

The little ones came in clusters, several on a stem, like triplets or quintuplets. Some were perfectly shaped and symmetrical and others off-centered and just a bit uneven. Like the artist’s technique of off-setting, this makes them more interesting.

One big pink rose was the focal point and first catches your eye, but then the different sizes and colors cause your eye to run through the whole bouquet. Each flower added to the overall effect and appeal. The green leaves gave contrast and the little poppies couldn't have been sweeter!

Families are God’s bouquets—all sizes, infants, toddlers, youngsters, teens, adults, and old folks—all shapes, sizes, personality types, all adding sounds to the music of a symphony—each adding shape and color to the overall composition.

I have seven children and each is as different as can be. Alone each may be considered lovely, but

together—each is a unique part of the whole, blended with parents and grandparents and some contrasts and sweetnesses—they become another of God’s masterpieces.

When God made Adam, it was the first of His creations which He did not think was complete. He said, “It is not good that the man should be alone.” (Gen 2:18) God knew that man needed a family.

In Psalms 68: 6, David said, “God sets the solitary in families.” He gathers single flowers into full bouquets. Beautiful!

©2014 Elece Hollis, author of Oh Baby!—a little handbook for new moms available on Amazon.com
http://amzn.to/1wBHa1t

One New Thing

"You should learn one new thing every day, " she said. It seems at first to be a grand challenge, but when I think about it, maybe not a challenge at all.

One? One? Only one? Think just how limiting it would be to be striving to learn one new thing a day. Why I would think that we should be trying to learn much more than one thing a day. If I went by this rule I would only have a possibility of learning 3, 650 things a decade. Sad waste of a my lifetime.

If your child went to school all day and only learned one thing would you be satisfied? One math fact or one spelling word, or one date in history or one preposition. His twelve years of school, elementary and high school would net him at one hundred and eighty days a year for twelve years only 2,160 facts. Maybe, you say, that is more than some children learn in twelve years of schooling, but I say  that would be subnormal and pathetic. We all need to learn as much as we can every day.

Now, of course, I am not thinking I can learn major things every day, like how to overhaul my car motor or how to play a cello or how to draw up the blueprints of a sky scraper, but I can learn small things and simple things by the boatload every day if I keep my mind and eyes open and if I have a teachable attitude. So can you. Even if you are highly educated  there is still much more to learn than one can learn in a lifetime.

Learn how to turn on your new phone, how to program your answering machine, how to use the remote control, how to save a photograph to your computer. Learn someone's name, learn to make something, to cook a new dish, to do a chore you never were concerned with. Learn the words to a poem, learn a joke, learn a new word's spelling and its meaning.

Learn a new taste, a new sound, a new texture. Learn to whistle a tune, shine your shoes, to draw a cartoon. to mix bathing salts. Learn the name of a bird, a flower, a plant, a sea shell. There are so many billions of things to learn and everyday is an opportunity to know more and more.

Have you ever asked someone for directions, or some simple information only to have them answer,"I have no earthly idea"? Nothing irks me as much. If you don't have any ideas, get some! If you don't know answers look them up. Ask, search, seek, find out, learn!

Learning might have been painful at some point in a person's life. What a shame that you could go through life not understanding, not knowing the joy and fulfillment of learning. Learning is such fun.

All around us everyday are myriad chances to challenge our minds. Let's learn!

Wren's Nest

On the windowsill
Canning jars sprouted 

Purple and Pink blooms

Sweet from her garden

By the south wall in shrubs

Under her bedroom 

Window—she found

A wren's nest—a soft 

Leafy grass tunnel, watched

As the sprite little bird

Flew in and warmed
Four brown-speckled eggs.

Getting to Know You!

 How huge the land must look to a boy so small just moved here to Oklahoma from a crowded street in Mexico City.

Happy faces at Grandma's table.

Jay likes the swing.

J

 Josie loves to run.

 The girls love the little dog Midge.

 Baby Yanelly has a smiley face!

 We need some shorter bikes for the kids!

 The wild gang!

Happy little Bryan. Can you beat that grin!

A Peg in Holy Place

A Peg in a Holy Place

By Elece Hollis

When Ezra prayed he thanked God for giving the Jewish people grace for a "brief"moment and providing for them a "peg in His Holy Place." 

Through the King of Persia, the Jews had been given all that they needed to rebuild Solomon's Temple,which had been destroyed. 

 
I love that peg in His holy place phrase. It reminds me of the photographs I have seen of Shaker homes where the straight-backed chairs are hung on wooden pegs along the wall. Everything is simple and neat and clean and in place and all looks so peaceful. If we had such pegs I am certain I would be tempted to snatch up some rowdy children and hang them up by their belt loops and sashes.

I think of the rows of hooks that lined the outer hallway of my childhood school in Michigan where we hung our heavy overcoats and snow pants, scarves, hats and mittens on winter days to dry. We hurried inside the classrooms which were full of sunlight from the tall windows and warm from the radiators that lined the walls bringing heat up from the big coal furnace downstairs.

I have coat hooks in my own laundry room for hoodies, jackets, and sweaters. It's when you are home that you find "a place to hang your hat." 

For Aunt Bea, the hook on the back of the kitchen door was a place to hang her apron as she rushed off on some mission in Mayberry. A peg in a house symbolizes comfort and rest and security to us.

"A peg in His holy place," then can be a place to hang our hats spiritually, a place of refuge and where we find rest in the company of God. It's a place to be at peace with ourselves and the Lord and to be a part of His holiness, a recipient of His grace.

A peg in His holy place. how I do need it! A haven, a sweet place where I can pull off my heavy snow-laden overcoat and decide to stop struggling, competing and comparing myself to others. It's a place to lay aside cumbersome wraps that I try to protect and hide myself inside. 

It's a place where I can be secure in God's love and acceptance.It's a Just as I am without one plea sort of place.

Emotionally, spiritually safe at home in God's Holy place; with Ezra I say: Thank you, Lord for a peg in your holy place.

Justin and the Ferris Wheel

J-U-S-T-I-N

 

Today I watched little ones ride ponies 

under a sun-filled sky 

and a red and white canopy.

                      

I watched children's amusement at the antics 

of newly-hatched chicks. 

I saw piglets, lambs, and sheep 

and even petted a tame deer's spotted back.

But those were not the most extraordinary things 

that happened today.

And was ignored by this strange fellow 

who was willing to smile for a photo 

if I left him alone.

I perused some fine artwork and  some beautiful quilts, 

jars filled with clear jellies and jams, peaches, pears, and pickles. 

I admired my fellow Oklahomans' handiwork: 

baskets, carvings, drawings, sewing, and knitted sweaters. 

I watched bright blue-winged butterflies sit quietly

inside a huge green tent 

and watched young people fly and scream with delight.

 I listened to a L.A.street band drum on trash cans
 and I watched break dancers as fast and agile as gymnasts. 

I sat in the sunshine to eat a candy apple
and listen to 

  musicians panpipe Peruvian mountain songs.

I was at the fair,
without any accompanying students 
or any children of my own.
 It was an unusual experience for a mom of seven, 
a school teacher for twenty-five years, 
and a grandmother of eighteen.

 I bought tickets to ride the Ferris Wheel. 

Waiting in line I meet Justin, who really wanted to ride the wheel  and talk. He tentatively said hello to me 
and then began to chatter.
 He had questions. 

He asked if I had anybody to ride with me. 

When I said, "No, I came to the fair alone today," he asked if I wanted to ride with he and his grandma. I said that would be fine.  "Grandma," says the boy, grasping grandma's arm, "She wants to ride too. Do you have enough tickets for her to ride?" 

I smiled and showed him I had tickets 
and suddenly Grandma decided not to ride. 
Grandma disappeared, so I was now with Justin.
(I think she thought he knew me!) 
"That's J-u-s-t-i-n," he spelled robotically 
as he stuck out his hand like a pistol for me to shake. 
He asked my name, and my age, and if I was a mom, and if I was married, if I was scared of the ride and where my children were, which rides they liked, how old they were 
and what their names were.
He asked about my shoes and weren't they like his shoes? 
tennis shoes, black tennis shoes?

 He told me he was fifteen and asked if any 
of my children were fifteen. 
He asked if the ride would be high. 
He told me he had a seizure on another ride. 
"I do not like that ride," he declared pointing.

"Don't ride that one anymore, I advised.
 Soon it was our turn. We climbed aboard.
 "I have seizures," Justin warned the attendant.

While we were riding J-u-s-t-i-n worried. 

He leaned over the side to check 

that his grandma was still there.

He called her on his cell phone and told her he couldn't see her. 

She waved. He exclaimed, "There she is! Wave! Wave, Eleeza! 

It's Grandma." I waved to her.

He asked if we were on top. I nodded yes. He worried.

 I told him the ride was fun. 

He said, " YEE-HAW," 

(but not with much conviction). 

So I said,"Whoohoo! Here we go! Yahoo!"

And he joined in.

He asked if the ride was almost over. 

I said, "No, we get some more turns."

He looked frightened.

 I told him the wheel was starting to slow, 

So soon they would stop our cart and we would get off 

and his grandma would be there waiting. 

Our seat swung to a stop 

and the attendant opened the gate.

 J-u-s-t-i-n was anxious to get off, but wouldn't 

until he had waved me off first. 

"What a gentleman," offered the attendant. 

"I have seizures," answered Justin, 

wavering from side to side in a sort of fear dance

 at the instability of the still moving cart.

 I turned back to help him climb down.

When we walked down the ramp, I saw that

Grandma wasn't there, 

but a sister and Justin's mom

 were waiting for him. 

"Mom, this is my friend, Eleeza. 

She rode the Ferris wheel with me!"

"Hello," she said, "Thanks" 

and off they disappeared into the crowd.

Hard  Hard  Hard

 Hard was written three times on the face of the wheel.

  Some people's lives are super tough. 

I went to the fair feeling sorry for myself. 

I had no children who wanted to go with me. 

I had no friends or relatives who were available to go with me.

 I wanted to go and I did, but I was sad to be alone. 

I was at the fair and I was trying very hard to enjoy it. 

 I was saying "Yeehaw" at the right spots, 

(but not with much conviction).

 Because my kids growing up away from me is hard. 

Family changes and growth are hard for me. 

Yet, Justin was cheerful,

How he must struggle everyday with problems

 of how to fit in an ever-changing world that moves

 round and round 

and up and down too fast for him.   

and I really hadn't any excuse for my pouting. 

***

Thank you, Lord, for letting me ride

 the Ferris Wheel with Justin. Bless his heart. 

Forgive me when I fuss and sull' up to have to face 

insecurities and changes periodically. 

Forgive me, Lord, and thanks for the perspective.