Life never runs out of firsts

 I was reminded, yesterday, in a very concrete way, that life never runs out of firsts.  When you least expect it, life tosses you a curve and you bend, duck, dodge - whatever - and then in most cases, you go on.  Yesterday morning was one of those bend, duck, and dodge events.

It's been snowing here a lot this week.  In fact, it is lightly snowing now but unlike yesterday, there is no wind so drifting might not be so much of an issue.  However, at this rate, we may not be able to get out for Ash Wednesday Mass this evening.  But, I digress.  About those firsts . . .

Yesterday I knew that if I didn't get into work I might not get the church bulletin out for this weekend.  Since it was a clear day, I decided to hazard a try at driving the four blocks to work.  My first, first, was to drive out of the garage and onto a snow-covered driveway.  Driving into four inches of snow is like driving into a wall with a little "give" to it.  Driving through four inches of fresh snow is like driving on a sponge.  But, mission accomplished, I arrived at the end of the driveway and attentively turn left onto the cleared road.  Gingerly I navigated a right at the first corner and then actually came to a full stop at the upcoming 4-way stop.  No traffic!  So I cruised right through.  One more left and I was almost at my destination.  

The work driveway was visible and in I went, congratulating myself on my accomplishment.  Once over the sidewalk, I came to a complete and unintentional stop.  After a bit of unsuccessful reversing, going back forward, tire turning, and rocking, I finally accepted that I was well and truly stuck.  

One of the things I've learned since moving to Caruthersville, after a lifetime in no snow California, is that the concept of "it takes a village" has real meaning here. So, I sat back and considered the possibilities.  Being a one-car family, calling the Pirate was not an option so my first stop was calling the Fire Chief, Charlie Jones.  Friend Charlie could surely radio a couple of volunteers with trucks to come to my rescue.  No answer.

My next stop was to call the Mayor of C'ville.  Yeah, nothing like going straight to the top but in reality, she's a friend and I knew she could mobilize a city worker to help me out.  No answer.

Then I remembered I had the Police Chief's cell number.  That went directly to voice mail.  And, there was no answer at the main desk either.  Staff were not in.  In C'ville, the action yesterday was all police units, not desk jockeys.  By this time, I was thinking the PD's office staff was much smarter than me by a longshot.

Then I got a brilliant idea.  Who was the ONE person I knew who also knew everyone else and had her fingers in the pot for just about everything.  Jana!  I called her and fervently prayed she would answer her phone and she did.  Two texts later from her, one to the police chief and one to the mayor, I eventually had both Paul from the city and police office Corey arriving at the same time.  Then the code enforcement officer, Barry, showed up with Mayor Sue in his truck - smartly staying warm - and overseeing the whole adventure  from the warm interior of the truck.  And then all this was followed in good time by one of the plow men who cleared the way to my office's front door and provided clear parking for at least three other cars that showed up over the next 2 hours.

Several lessons were learned today.  I was instilled with a a renewed respect for snow.  Four wheel drive and/or chains was a necessity.  Calm is the way to solution and having friends helps. A lot.  Oh, and one more thing.  Barry noticed the state of my feet and, never being one to soften his tone, asked my why in the heck I wasn't wearing socks.  I sheepishly answer, "Well . . . California.  Never got in the habit".  He then very succinctly informed me of the dangers of cold on feet.  Of course, I've heard that before from several people but Barry's gravelly voice has some power so . . . I'm going shopping for boots as soon as it's safe to go out in the snow

FROM ACORN TO OAK – THE LIFE OF AN OAK TREE

 

 

When we lost our oak tree this past spring, it very literally left an empty space in our yard and left me with a broken heart.  It also left me with the beginning of an opportunity to learn about just how lucky an acorn was that it would grow into an actual tree. Like baby alligators that have a 1% survival rate in the wild, the little acorn embarks on a long and hazardous journey when it drops to the ground.

It might find itself under a litter of leaves, or perhaps it has found shelter in a hollowed out, fallen log.  Or, if it is very lucky, perhaps it has fallen in a garden.  If it survives being food for woodland creatures, it tucks in and busily sends out embryonic roots into the soil to anchor the plant.  Then the search for water begins.  All through its first winter, this root holds the acorn in place in its safe ground.

In the spring, the moisture of the ground will swell the root and crack open the acorn shell.  It is in this first spring that the future oak’s first shoot erupts to the surface.  The root continues to provide food for the seedlings for longs months, even after the first true leaves are developed.  When the seedling is strong enough to survive on its own, the embryonic roots will fall away.

It can take 20-30 years for an oak to produce its first acorns but in the early years, production is not consistent.  With maturity, the tree finally settles into regular production with the acorns dropping in the fall.  At 10 years an oak will be anywhere from 10 – 20 feet depending on its location, food reliability and sufficiency of sunlight. 

 

Our tree, before it was lost to lightning, ground termites, and a 35mph gust of wind, was about 35 feet high.  It was a mature tree when Don walked passed it, on the way to school 60 plus years ago. It was one of the determining factors in buying our house in 2017 and for a short period of time, we enjoyed its sheltering branches.

 

Oak trees develop all over the world and even though they may vary widely in appearance, they have one thing in common – the humble acorn.  In the Midwest, it is difficult for oak seedlings to mature.  Competition from invasive plants like buckthorn crowd them out and block the sunlight.  So, it is indeed the lucky acorn that finds purchase in a garden and is recognized as a winter survivor ready to be protected as it grows into a mighty oak providing food and homes for birds and squirrels and shade for the humans that nurtured them.

 

Hard Decision, Brighter Times

 

On my last post, I left a cryptic note about hard decisions and brighter times.  It wasn't a devastating event but it WAS difficult because there were so many people involved - my family, my church community, the people I work with.  But finally, after a lot of thought and anguish since September/October, I finally decided it was time to retire again.  The first time was in 2010.  Then when we moved here I was asked about a year later to be the secretary for the church.  It would be part-time and after giving it some thought I decided to take the job.  After all, it's always nice to have a  bit of  pin money for the sweet extras in life that might come along.  The kids were settled in Indiana and Tennessee and the Pirate and I were sticking close to home as we continued our own settling in after our big move from California.  

Having the church job integrated me into the community life of our parish in a way I had never
 experienced before in all my life.  For the first time, I felt like part of the greater parish community.  It was a wonderful feeling.  Through the ups and downs and ups again of my faith life, I felt I had arrived at a home that was warm and welcoming.  I had a lot of catching up to do as I learned more about the lives of the people, many of whom had known each other all their adult lives not to mention some who had known each other their entire lives.  It was gratifying that many of them helped with that heaving lifting.

So now, as I approach the end of my time here, I'm feeling a bit wistful but not enough to backtrack.  The door has closed but life and God have a funny way of opening other doors and there is one cracking open already.  No, it's NOT another job (the Pirate flipped when I mentioned "another door opening") but it is an unexpected, creative effort that, if come to fruition, will definitely be fun.