Chester and Blue...

My sweet neighbor and friend, Marilou, had a gentle way with people, and animals (especially cats) and birds. Maybe it was in the way her voice changed to a higher pitch, whenever she saw Chester, a cat we passed on our daily walk. He had arthritis or some other debilitating ailment, but he couldn't resist her call. He would get up slowly, have to catch his balance and begin to hobble towards us. Every step looked painful. But he would lean up against her legs, and wait for her to rub him all over, and tell him how sweet he was. Then, Chester felt obligated to give Dennis and Bob and me some attention. But it was always Marilou who got his attention first. She'd pick him up and he'll curl up in her arms like he was hers forever.

Then, there was the Blue Jay. She'd tell me about having her first cup of coffee and half piece of toast, and sharing the toast with the bird. She said he would eat it right out of her hand. So, now I am taking over the task of feeding "Blue" the Jay, as many as three times a day. I wonder if "Blue" misses her, too? He comes to my patio window and looks in at me, and waits. He knows. And I even coaxed him into the room, by dropping the seeds while he watched. There has to be a Spiritual lesson in there somewhere.

Something about "Why do you worry? Don't you know that your Heavenly Father cares for the sparrows, and YOU are of much more value than a sparrow."

Grandmother's gift...

My mother's mother was Grandmother Kramar. Tiny, sweet, starched-apron clean, shiny silver hair smoothed into a bun, a lover of everything God made. A woman of prayer and gratefulness. A cheerful spirit.

She influences my life even today. When we spent vacations with her, she taught us how to "irrigate" her garden. And we learned the names of some of her favorite flowers and shrubs. Lemon Verbena, Pepper Trees, Weeping Willows, and Cecil Bruenner Roses.

I wanted to have a garden like hers. Bushes and trees, and flowers so close to each other that you have to be careful where you step. Crammed together so that you can't even see the earth. A shady bower just like hers.

Just a few hundred more plants, and I'll have it. Well, maybe.

For years I have wanted a Cecil Bruenner Rose... like Grandmother's. Hers was on the fence between her yard and the side street.

To have a climbing rose, you must have an arbor... which Janice designed with Dan two summers ago, and built for me the same day. On my birthday this year, John bought me the rose bush and planted it by the arbor.

So, in sweet memory of Grandmother Kramar, here's my Cecil Bruenner Rose.

Right above me...

I don't know what anyone else thinks about hearing voices, and I don't care. All I know is what I heard.

I was cheerily driving alone, to a Memorial Day event to be held in Saratoga. I had the windows part way down, as the sun was warm that morning. My tape player automatically started playing the tape that was already installed. It was Steve Amerson, singing "All who believe, show that you know Him..." And I sang along when I could remember the words.

At a break in the music, I heard Bob's voice say quietly "I am above you..."

I glanced around at the traffic, and for anyone on the sidewalks. No one was even close.

That was the third time I have heard Bob's voice. First time was here in my Family Room. I had just laid down for a nap, and heard him say loudly, "DORIS!" And I sat straight up and responded, "Yeah?" It made me laugh outloud.

The second time was when John and I went to Colorado Springs to visit Joanne and Scott. I was standing in front of their refrigerator, looking at the collage of snapshots on the door, especially enjoying seeing the ones of Bob and me. I heard Bob say again, "Doris!"

I looked around to see if someone else had called me. Joanne was doing laundry in the laundry room. And she would have called me "Mom." John was downstairs in the guest room asleep, and he wouldn't have called me "Doris." I walked out into the hall and looked upstairs to see Scott standing there. (Ah, that would be a simple explanation. He calls me "Doris.")

I asked, "Did you call me?" "No," he said. Hmmm.

A few weeks later, I phoned Scott, and asked him if he was "pulling my leg" just to see what my response would be. And he told me again, that no, he hadn't called me.

Now, I listen very carefully.