You really won't  appreciate this post unless you read the one titled: Mayhem On A Saturday Morning first. 
    This picture is where we left our 2 little survivors; in a plastic bucket hanging from a branch in a tree a few feet from my deck. They seemed quite content, but Mama Robin, also known as a kamakazi bird, was constantly attacking Iggy, our dog. She would swoop so low, I was afraid he was going to catch her. That would have been all I needed; an injured or dead mama and then I would have to feed them. No, no, no.
    My good friend, Lynne, suggested I poke holes in the bottom of the bucket so they wouldn't drown if it rained. What a smart lady she is! 
    Okay, now we are all set. Holes in bottom, birds in bucket and Mama gets in bucket also because it is starting to rain. It rained pretty hard and I am praying that they don't drown or fall or anything. Every time I let Iggy out, I checked to see if the bucket was still hanging. It was.
    In the morning, everything seemed okay. Mama was still trying to bombard the dog and the birds were both alive and dry. I know, because I checked by taking the bucket dawn and then hanging it back. I kept a wary eye on Mama.
    The next night it didn't just rain, it was a downpour with wind, hail and lightning. I was feeling bad for them, even though they were in a tree with branches over them. Kalisha was worried about them. Every time I looked out, the bucket was there.  Right before I went to bed, I checked one more time. The bucket was no longer hanging in the tree. It was setting upright on the ground. Just like someone had taken it down and placed it there. But....it was empty. (I took this picture later, when the sun was shining, in case you are wondering)
    

        I felt sick to my stomach, but since Mama had called in the Reserves and there were about 6 robins chattering and diving now, I was fairly certain those babies were out on the ground somewhere. So-o-o, I got my flashlight and Kalisha's bicycle helmet and went searching for them.

    Lovely picture, isn't it? Well, what do you want at 11:30 at night? She had never come as close to me as she did to Iggy, but now she was not playing around. She was coming at anyone or anything that moved. I was laughing so hard, I nearly wet my pants. I looked all over and could not find those babies, but it was dark and they aren't actually outlined in fluorescent tape or anything. 
    As soon as I was about to give up, something came flying past me about 2 feet off the ground and promptly flew right into the side of the garage. Thunk! That accounted for one of them. The other one was soon to follow.
    I knew I wasn't going to be able to grab them now that they could semi-fly, (obviously they needed a few more lessons) so I went to bed.
    In the morning, all was quiet. I heard their cheeps during the day and Mama was still on guard, but in a different tree. By the next morning, there were no more cheeps and no more protective parents. I believe they learned to fly and they all lived happily ever after. 
    Several after-thoughts: 
   1) Robins usually come back to nest in the same spot each spring; should I leave the bucket in the tree? Nah, I think not.
    2)That Mama Robin is going to have some story to tell when she gets back to Florida this fall. Not one of her bird friends will believe her.
   3) The handle on that bucket did not come off. There was no way it could have blown off the branch it was on AND landed upright on the stone ledge. I believe God, the Protector of all creatures, reached down and very gently put it on the ground so they wouldn't fall when it rained so hard.
   
 Matthew 10:29 Are not 2 sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. NIV

#9) I 'retired' from a job that I loved. I had been the Director of Children's Ministries at a fairly large church for 10 years, but I thought it was time to do something else. They gave me a nice 'send-off.' Another bittersweet moment.










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    My Saturday morning began quite uneventfully. I took my coffee and my bible and devotion books to the shaded corner of my deck. The only reason it is shaded early in the morning is because the neighbor has let a black walnut tree (some crazy squirrel buried a walnut and obviously couldn't remember where he put it) grow amok in the corner of his yard. The tree isn't too old but the huge limbs are hanging over the corner of my deck. 
    It really has not been a problem. A pair of robins even built a nest in the fork of one of the branches. So far, so good. Peaceful...the neighbor's (do you see a pattern here?) big yellow cat is wandering around, Iggy, my dog, is sleeping under my chair. He and the cat have become friends over the springtime.
    In a nano-second, the cat leaped from my deck railing to the branches of the tree, knocking the robin's nest down onto the deck. The 3 half-grown robins are flapping around, the cat wanting to eat them, the dog, now, wanting to get in on the action. He can't decide if he should also eat the birds, chase the cat or hide from the woman who a minute ago was setting in the deck chair and now is screaming unintelligable language at the birds, and the cat and him.
    I felt like the nursery rhyme: the cat chased the birds, (not the rat, or I would have let her have it) the dog chased the cat and the old lady swallowed a fly..I don't know why, she swallowed a fly; perhaps she'll die. I forgot to add, the 2 adult robins are dive-bombing the cat and dog and me, while I tell them, "I'm trying to save your kids, you stupid birds." (A scene from The Birds could be inserted here.)
    I finally put all 3 birds back in the nest and tried putting the nest back in the tree. I whacked the cat with my fireplace poker and put the dog in the house. Needless to say, the nest was a little worse for wear, since falling 6 feet onto a wooden deck tends to crack the mud on the bottom. I put it back where it was. It stayed but precariously. I decided I couldn't stay there for the next 2 weeks and keep the cat away, so.. armed with my trusty eagle beak clippers, I cut every branch I could reach off that tree. This neighbor only mows his grass once a month, so I'm pretty certain he won't notice. Now the cat can't get to them. Okay. Work done, right? Au contraire.
    In 5 minutes, Mom Robin perched on the side of the nest and it fell out again. By now I'm not sure if the babies are alive or dead, but I decided to move the nest to a bigger tree where it would be safer. I placed it in the crotch of 2 branches and thought it was pretty safe. Not so.
    The parents must have called the extended family, because now I have 8 robins swooping over my head and not one of them can figure out the new location of the nest. By the way, I just read an article about the fact that you shouldn't touch a baby bird because the parents will smell human, etc. It said that was an old wives' tale and not true. Good thing.
    The bottom of that nest was almost non-existent by now, so my next solution was to put it in a plastic easter bucket and hang it in the tree.

    Thirty-five years ago, I met Noah and Rosemary, an Amish couple with 4 girls. We became great friends. We celebrated when they had a baby boy. They would help us with things we needed done and we, in turn, would help them. 
    Rose and I went to Michigan and picked 27 bushels of peaches. We sold some of them and canned the rest. When I had chickens ready to butcher and cut up, she came. We did 80 chickens in 2 days. Whew!
    When it was time to make cider, I drove the pick-up truck and we filled it with fallen apples. Noah's brother owned a cider mill, so we hauled the apples there and filled about a thousand recycled milk jugs (not quite that many) with the sweet cider, laughing all the while.
    They celebrated birthdays and special occasions with us and we did the same at their house. When my dad sold his house and needed an apartment built onto my house, Noah built it. By now, they had another little girl who was just toddling. She fell and put her little handprints in the wet cement of the porch,where they still are, I presume. 
        They had another little boy, who completed their family. When they moved to another town not far away, we visited often. I attended their children's weddings and when their first grandbaby was born 9 years ago, Rose called and asked me to come to the hospital and see her.
        Rosemary got breast cancer. I took her and Noah to the hospital the day of surgery. Everything went well and she bounced back. She taught Kalisha how to bake an angel food cake (she was an expert at it) and Noah and the 2 boys built a deck for me. Of course, by now, they had several more grandchildren. Things were always busy at their house. I would call and ask if she wanted to go to some garage sales. She was always ready to go. 
    But the cancer returned. Noah stayed home with her and took excellent loving care of her. Despite trying many things, she continued to get weaker. The last time I visited, as I left her kitchen, I turned and said, "You are a great friend, Rose. I love you." She gave me a weak smile and quietly said, "I love you, too." 
    One of her daughters called a few days later to tell me she had died. Kalisha and I went to the viewing, in their home. It was a very peaceful setting with a small kerosene lamp lit and setting on the end of a beautiful casket. 
    Before I get too maudlin, I should tell you I was looking for 2 of her daughters to talk to them. I couldn't find them, but when you have about 50 Amish women in one room, all dressed identically, it is difficult to find the ones you want. The girls found me. Of course, I was easy to spot; the only Englisher in the room full of black dresses and white caps.
    I truly wish I could include some pictures for you, but I never disrespected their wishes that no pictures be taken.
    Now to the present time. Rose's oldest daughter called a few days ago to see if I wanted some strawberries. Of course, I did. When I arrived, she had already picked 10 quart for me.... lucky me, I didn't have to.

    How many new projects have you and I started in our lifetimes? I can only speak for myself, but if I count New Year's resolutions and every time I go to bed promising myself to start an entirely new schedule the next day or beginning a new food regimen (sounds less intimidating than the word diet), I would easily guess the number to be in the hundreds; maybe more.
    The things I listed are pretty standard for most people, but there have been times when I have embarked on a totally new journey; a new location or a new job experience or an educational realm I have not tried in the past. Those are BIG things. SCARY things.
    Recently, my 5-year-old granddaughter competed in her very first swim meet. She was excited beyond words and also nervous and filled with trepidation. She had practiced and prepared, but now the time had come. She was standing on the platform.
When, at age 55, I made the decision to enroll in college, it was a BIG thing. It was all well and good to tell everyone about it and be excited, but when I had to walk into that first class, I was standing on the platform and I was frightened. When I decided to not hold a traditional job any longer and write, full-time, that was another platform I jumped from, and it was scary.

    There was no turning back in the swim meet or in life. I had to 'jump in' to the classes and later, into writing for an income. The water was cold when I first hit it, but I had to start swimming. I realized I was out of my element in both situations, but I asked for God's help and guidance and I started swimming.

    There were many students who were traditional students. I, obviously, was not. I wasn't worried about the classes or the homework. I was pretty sure I could hold my own. What I didn't know were all the 'other things' that go with college attendance. Which buildings the classes were in was a pretty basic need, the credits required for the degree I wanted, the GPA equation, the classroom rules:  can I leave when I'm done with a test, and just how much of my opinion can I express in class, etc. As far as the writing career; I had attended a few conferences and I was certain this was God's plan for my life, but could I make it to the other end of the pool and not drown on the way?
My granddaughter knew she could swim the length of the pool, but could she do it in a certain time, without stopping, etc?

    She started out strong, but soon became a bit tired and slowed down. She reached for the rope but kept going, struggling. I started fast and strong in college, but there were many times, I became tired and I reached for the rope. I was going to classes full-time and working a 40+ hours job. I also had a daughter who needed me and my time. Thankfully, God was my rope. I would hang on and then start swimming again, headed for that goal at the other end.
    In the video of the swim meet, there are many people cheering her on. Her parents and sibling, other parents, the coach, and even the timekeepers. Everyone wanted Emily to accomplish her goal. 
    I was blessed with many supportive cheerleaders, also, while I was in school and in my writing endeavors. They have prayed for me, called me, encouraged me, and keep me heading in the right (write) direction.

    Emily made it..YES! She didn't care that all the other swimmers were done before her, or that she almost gave up halfway to the other end or that she hung on to the rope a few times. She made it. She continued until she reached her goal. She overcame the obstacles of fear and fatigue and pushed on. I am so very proud of her; it makes me cry.
    I reached my goal in college. I was even on the dean's list. I am not saying that for any praise, only to let you know brain cells do still work after 55 years and you can achieve what seems like an impossible goal, IF you reach out and hang onto God's hand and rest in Him.
    The writing; I am still swimming toward my goals, and some obstacles, mostly financial, are almost insurmountable, but I cling to my Rope and I listen to the people who encourage me and I will keep on swimmin'

        When I was a child, we played a game called, Button, Button, Where Is the Button? It's a pretty self-explanatory game. Everyone closes their eyes, while one kid hides a button. After it is hidden, each person can ask a question of the 'hider' until someone discovers the hiding place. 
        We-l-l, we have a new version of this game at our house. Let me tell you about it.
My granddaughter, E., has a bedroom in the basement. It isn't the Taj Mahal but it isn't a dungeon, either. A month ago, she asked if a girlfriend of hers could stay with her for 2 months. She would pay rent of $25 a week. (I took it because I can tell you 18-year-olds can use $25 a week in toilet paper and body wash, alone.)
    I had a few rules, (besides the obvious ones of no smoking, no drinking, no drugs, no people of the opposite sex in the house). There were a few that were particular to my peculiarities. Rule #1: do not take food and drink downstairs and if you happen to forget, Rule#2:  make sure you bring all plates, utensils, etc. back up and wash them.
    Needless to say, they didn't listen or obey. The result is that there were never any spoons in my silverware drawer. They were either all dirty, stuck to bowls and plates or the girls were throwing them in the trash. Either way, they were disappearing. The same was true of bowls and glasses. 
    We will just skip over the conversations and consequences that happened. I had an inspiration one day. I washed everything. Then I packed up every glass: tumblers and juice glasses, and hid them. Then I hid all the cereal bowls. I told my daughter where 2 were hidden, so she and I could have cereal if we wanted. Then I grabbed every spoon in the kitchen drawer; every teaspoon, soup spoon and serving spoon. I wrapped them nicely and hid them.
        A few days later, my daughter said, "You know, Mom, it's really hard to eat cereal with a fork." I laughed and told her I would break out 2 spoons, one for each of us. But we would have to wash them each time they were used and hide them again. 
        Guess what? I can not find those spoons anywhere and believe me, I have searched. My mind is blank after wrapping them. I simply cannot envision myself putting them somewhere. I know exactly where the glassware and bowls are, but not the darned spoons. I have searched every closet, pantry, garage, cupboards, etc. I am beginning to think I accidentally threw them away. 
        The lack of spoons has provided some humorous moments. One of the girls obviously used a measuring spoon. I tried it; it is very difficult to eat with a measuring spoon. Then my grandson said he ate something with a big black 'cooking' spoon. I would have paid to see that. Yesterday, as he ate a bowl of cereal, he commented, "You know, it's not so bad eating cereal with a fork; it leaves all the milk in the bowl to drink."
        I found one iced tea spoon and one red plastic spoon in the back of a drawer, so-o-o I gave the iced tea spoon to my daughter and told her to put it in my purse when she was done with it. Then I used the red plastic one and after I washed it, I put it in the pocket of my robe. (I promise I wash it before I use it again.)