Emma said "He's here! come outside!"

I am so grateful for that dear creature who is our dog. She is so intune with my emotions and the realms around. It was foggy, the other morning. Ordinarily, the fog would find her and me seeking cover for the fear of lightning and thunder's loud noise. Not that morning. We both knew that this was a curtain of closing of a chapter. I know you can't walk well mommy, but uncle is here. Come outside to sit with him.

Emma didn't meet Uncle in this world, but when he came to visit us on the sundry visits, she has always been in the conversation. I am not always in tune with what is going on around the outside of the house with the bustle of things when the children are home. Emma has the ability to tune out the noises and categorize them for me. Sometimes she says to the children shut up and listen to mommy. Sometimes she says to me, shut up and listen to God. It is amazing how sheepdogs hear.

The original agreement happened when uncle was alive. He came to visit me in my worst condition after Ez was born. He made me come into the sunshine. He looked me right in the eye. He stared at me hard and said I am Uncle Charles. I know who you are uncle. He was saying, I really can't tell how much you can understand of what I am saying in your emotional state. I will look into this problem with the depth of my being and to my last breath. I am angry, he said in his stare. I will meet you right here, when I am done with this case. On a day that the carpenter ants invade your outside house. If you kill them all and get the pot clean, I will be right there and I will meet you there. I had no house with carpenter ants in the pots. But it happened just like he said it would. The carpenter ants came to invade and God sent Chuck Swindoll to preach about ridding yourself of them, to remind me of what Uncle had said. Don't miss this, Swindoll reminded. Uncle said... Sure enough when the boiling and chemical mess was completed and those pots were clear of the ants, Uncle came to visit. He came inside only one time and that was the first weekend after he past away. He smacked Ezra on the rear in his sleep and the poor baby was crying hard at the smack. He ran to me. Somebody spanked me, he was crying. I said uncle said if you ever drink Whiskey again, like I gave you, worse than this will be the result, do you hear me. We hear you uncle. Poor Uncle had been through war and much sadness and thus his wrestling with Whiskey began. We knew this was something that made him the peaceloving man he had always been. We all loved him, but I never really felt that I had any more of a relationship with him than any of the other children.

Well, everytime they come and go they give me hints at when they will be back. I never really know what they are talking about, but they say stuff like, when you get to the willow tree in this or that place that I have never seen or heard of, I will be on the right of the pugdog statue. Uncle, would you give me some idea of the year or date of place. They don't count things in dates and such but where you are and what you are doing is how they mark it to me. You'll be finished with this work or that. You'll be in the aisle after you played that on the guitar. I don't play the guitar, Uncle. You will. I do, now.

Helen never gives me any warning when she goes or comes, but Uncles always do. This trumpet blast and who has charge of what part of the trumpet blast is Helen's announcements. This blast points to that reality. Some writers have a thin line of blast and some have thicker lines of blast, etc. That is Helen's translation to me.

I know when we get to heaven we will understand it all. Now, we see through a glass darkly. I imagine that we will be enjoying what a sound that blast was, when it is all finished, but now, either the trumpeter is practicing and Helen is painting the image of the practice blasts in the clouds through many painters and animators. She seems like the "Disney" of heaven, to me. What a tremendous responsibility! I love that she shares so much with me.

Well, at any rate the curtain came down on the Robin themes. It is my job, now to compile the stories and get them ready for publication. The Other Uncle said there are some musical themes coming down the pike for me. He asked me did I see how they studied my dance. I told him I couldn't hear them or see them. Clean up, was his response.

Last night we had torrents.

The glaze over Mrs. Robin's eyes could have predicted it. She has been sitting on her eggs and when we went to cut the lawn she glared at us as though we were coming to gather the eggs to eat. { We come in peace, we tried to say.} Before the storm she was flying from pillar to post as if her calculations hadn't predicted such a fierceness of storm that was on the horizon. I wasn't very understanding of her dilemma until the rains came down. 5 minutes into our torrent and our corner was flooded. We have sewers, rightly placed and we are on an incline so it was some doing to flood the corner in 5 minutes. That was a lot of water. I haven't checked the nest this morning as to whether the eggs made it. I saw the glazed body of Mrs. Robin and she is still there, but the eggs might not have made it. If she was crazy yesterday because she knew this was coming, I can really identify with her pain.

Even the goats were clapping for my efforts...

I looked out my window and the cloud was sweeping away. It seemed my prayer partner, the angel that wakes me to pray in the morning was flying far away with a harp on her back. She was asking me what tune could comfort those grieving people in the Netherlands, who have lots of grievous work to do. I don't know, but I will pray about that hard and grievous process, this morning. The world is full of griefs and the angels don't know how to comfort the grieving mothers and neither do I. I know what scents and sights comforted me in my deepest valleys. Hyacinths and thoughts of a future where these griefs will be a past of another time and place, thoughts of the sweet by and by, where reconciliation with my dearly departed may give some solace, but the sting of death is sin and the grief of loss cannot be comforted with a bandaid. I am always close to tears when war and plane crashes fill the news. The morning gilded sky seemed crafted to carry my thoughts to the grieving ones in my heart during their difficult initial grief strickenness.

I am grateful that my baby came back safely and the goats were encouraging my cleaning efforts to celebrate my baby's safe return. Even the turtledoves were on separate wires for their moment of silence with the grief-stricken.

I think goats get a bad rap sometimes. They seem to praise the Lord, just like the rest of creation. I saw them, even though they are stubborn.

When we passed the little goats at the farm, on the way to the dump to drop off some of the junk we had gathered, there were 2 of them on top of their little house and they were clapping for me.

You did great mommy, they yelled as we passed. That porch was an eyesore. I knew it was and I was determined that Ezra would come home to a new porch, with real flowers and real seats. I got a small portion of it completed and it was remarkable that the goats had heard about it from the bird as quickly as they did. The grapevine around this place is very swift and the wildlife is so in touch with the people in their possession.

The cows always let me know that they have heard this or that gossip, but I thought that the goats were unconcerned about human goings on. They are not. They are very concerned about stuff like that. Where the trash goes is their arena. They really let me know that. Hoooray for you, mommy, one down, a hundred or so to go!

Withdrawal from my starlings, a week in...

When I was working, we would take a detour past the cows on Pitt School Rd. The interaction between the cows there and the starlings were really remarkable to me, having been converted from a city girl to a suburban, rural woman. My friend introduced me to the starlings and their harmonious dance in the sky. I love the way they swerve in and out of their lanes seemingly seamlessly.

I always think about the mental ability that it takes for people to move or sing or drive in conjunction with others. We always have to have loads and loads of rules and laws to keep us from bumping into eachother. They don't seem to have that problem. They soar, high and low and up and down with eachother and they don't bump into eachother or seem to complain about somebody stealing their lane in the sky. Just move over and don't complain, their flying reminds me.

Music and swimming and marching and running and family are similar to the way that the starlings flit and fly. We get so bent out of shape about the little things of somebody taking our note in a harmony or etc. I love the freedom of the starlings and the corporateness of their flight.

Our prayers in conjunction with oneanother is so much like that. I imagine God looking at our corporate church prayers as a beautiful thing in His sight. He notices that as families and churches we are agreeing about something. Even when we are not exactly right in our doctrine and words, our hearts are before our Lord and He says He loves our unity.

When Morning Gilds the Skies...

Somebody on cloud duty was privy to the Daily Bread readings...I think. Crown Him with many crowns was the theme. Maybe it was David on cloud duty. I never think of that. It was the perfect crown and huge with many, many points to it. I said Amen that is my prayer too. Reign, Lord Jesus today in my heart, in the sky and on the earth, in Jesus' Name, Amen!

I know that Mrs Bluejay has a sharp side, but not so sharp as if you have broken a bone.

She has prodded and nudged me this way and that on many a day. Not like this morning. This morning she was positively livid.

You have been avoiding me, she yelled. You need to know that we are all very angry with you for breaking a bone. We do not do that and we are totally against the breaking of bones, do you hear me.

I didn't do it on purpose, I insisted. I hear that Mrs. Bunny suggested the alfalfa for you and you haven't been following her directions and that there are a great many more germs running rampant in your home that I'll not go into right now, on account of your weakened state.

Thank you for caring and not going any further, Mrs. Bluejay. I appreciate your candor and concern and will certainly take the alfalfa as directed by Mrs Bunny. I got in the car and went to work.

I do love the outspokenness of the Bluejays! You always know where you stand with them.

Mr. Bunny came and said, when you go to the hospital...

Don't forget to wash your face and eat your vegetables. I said, I am not scheduled to go to the hospital, I said. He just kept demonstrating how to wash my face, this way and that way at the hospital. You are going to need grass and Echinacea, my mommy said. I just kept it in my mind and had no intention of going to any hospital. I hate hospitals. I go out of my way to stay safe, for the most part.
Well anyway, Uncle Reggie said they were finished with my dance that he had stolen from me from Good Friday to Pentecost, for their study. What percent is in self, what percent is in the spirit and how do we lessen the self portion and increase the spirit portion of the spiritual dance? He kept asking me if I could see it. I told him I couldn't see it, so he had to describe the surgical procedure that they did. It wasn't painful when they took it, because we were laughing. He said that the only place he could've returned it was at the rink, because that was the place I was when the study was scheduled and he and unc were both still on earth at that time.
Uncle Charles thought he could handle the return procedure by himself and left him to it. He had no idea that it involved a slice and a break. He said Uncle Charles knows me much better than he does and certainly wouldn't have had to break a bone, but he's learning.
I felt my dance back and I was delighted to have it back in tact. I thought that they had taken it for good and that I would see it when I got there. Uncle said that because of the spike theory they had to tear skin and break a bone. It will heal, but I thought it more important for you not to wait that long for me to return it.
The angels at the building had sermon tanks and were showing me their litmus tests and studies of sermons significance and relevance and effectiveness in the spiritual battle of the day that they were preached. Some of the sermons for now are for the battle of 1700 and some of their sermons are relevant for us. Each of the Octagonal tanks were used and colorful and all to keep me spiritually busy while the just men made perfect were studying my dance during this celebration of Passion to Pentecost in Heaven.