Mhaolain's Child, a Renaissance Thinker in a Post-Modern Culture

Receive the Light: Embracing the Rain at the Grand Canyon

A couple of weeks ago, I had the delightful pleasure to vacation in Phoenix with one of my best friends and her husband. We were their guests at their golf resort home, where we enjoyed some of the Phoenix area's finest golf courses. In a supreme act of friendship, the golfers sacrificed one of their days chasing the dimpled sphere, and we made the trip through the Red Rock national park and on to the Grand Canyon.

We rose before sunrise and drove through the desert surrounding Phoenix and climbed the plateaus to reach the Red Rocks of Sedona. We were encouraged by Phoenix locals to stop in Sedona for breakfast at The Coffee Pot, where they offer 101 different omelettes. (It's actually more when you factor in all the additional items!) Breakfast there reminded me of our own Pancake Pantry, where the wait is always worth the delicious food.

I was surprised by the lush green forest that surrounds Sedona. The fragrance of the many pine trees filled the air that grew crisp and clear as we climbed the terrain to Flagstaff. After a three-hour drive, we reached the boundary of the Grand Canyon National Park -- and a blinding rainstorm.

Our friends have visited the canyon several times before, so they turned at the first opportunity toward the eastern rim and its clear glimpse of the Colorado River. As we pulled in at the first viewing area, the rain slacked, and a sunbeam lit the very area in front of us. I get goosebumps remembering my first vision of the canyon -- like opening night at God's theater where, according to His own plan, He brings the lights up slowly to reveal shadows, colors, shapes, vistas beyond description. The rocks glimmered as the sunlight sparkled off their rain-slick surfaces. Underneath our feet, the rocks crunched more than we'd expected as the rainstorm had also brought hailstones to cover the ground to the canyon's edge with white. 

When we reached the eastern rim, we raced to the edge in our efforts to outrun the darkening storm clouds. But the storm clouds served as the most amazing backdrop as the sun broke through their heart to shine on the terrain at our feet. The Colorado River sparkled bright blue-green miles below. The rain began to fall again, but we embraced it as it provided the prisms for the light to create the pattern of a full double rainbow. 

Our day continued with more incredible contrasts of light and dark, sun and rain. As we stood on the southern edge to watch the sunset, I was struck by the rough, sharp angles of so many of the named formations in the canyon. They seemed to twist and turn their way into the shadows of the coming evening. One formation, however, stayed aglow with the sun's rays longer than its neighbors. Its shape seemed to mimic the position of a dancer whose arms are open and whose torso leans forward, as though anticipating an embrace. This rock seemed to me to cry out, "Come, receive the Light. Stand in its warmth. Reflect its colors."

For me, that day at the Grand Canyon I clearly heard the "very rocks cry out." It was the best choir ever.

**all photos taken with my iPhone, which can only slightly capture the grandeur of the viewshed.

The Loveliest Day for Flowers

I'm stretching on the sofa, luxuriating in one of the first morning sunbeams to cross my house in many weeks. It's been a rainy, relatively cool summer for Tennessee, so my kitties and I are taking advantage of this glorious stream of gold with its ambient warmth. The birds are singing outside the window, and the flowers seem visibly to lift their heads to the rays of light and warmth. My flowers have been their most beautiful and prolific this season, particularly my roses. (I have almost 200 rose bushes.) Today, they make me think of the prismatic toys I played with in my childhood, glistening their many colors and hues in the sunlight and the gentle breeze.

It seems almost like a scene from a heart-rending movie that I'm watching the last day of summer's color. In spite of their happy growth, in spite of their healthy blooms, tonight these gorgeous creatures of nature will almost assuredly die, for tonight brings the first freeze of fall. It is bittersweet that I walk through the gardens today thanking my rooted friends for their gift of beauty this year, knowing that tomorrow I will see broken browned buds where today is life.

If I knew that today was the last day of my own life, to whom would I purposefully speak my thanks and love for the beauty they've poured into my life? When the time for frost and freeze approaches my own head, will I continue to spread beauty until the last spark of warmth passes?

Consider the lilies of the field ....

Plumping My Wrinkles from the Inside Out

Wrinkle Plumpers?

My grandmother was a firm believer in the power of Oil of Olay. She kept her pink jar of the concoction on her dressing table even when she moved into the nursing home. After she slipped into dementia, my mom and aunt both continued to keep the Olay near her bedside.

Now that I'm approaching the Grandmothering Season of my life, I'm trying to find my own version of Olay in my battle to have the same beautiful skin of my grandmother and mother. I'm committed to products that have natural ingredients whose names I can pronounce. Just as I look for wholesome close-to-the-earth vitamins and supplements, I'm looking for skincare products that come from the garden more so than from the chemical laboratory.

Imagine my surprise this week when I discovered that one of the most recommended wrinkle-reducing products is not one you rub on your skin. Instead, it's one you ingest. Furthermore, it comes from natural sources, both plants and/or animals, particularly shellfish. It's glucosamine.

Glucosamine has long been touted for its ability to boost hyaluronic acid (HA) in the joints of human bodies. Recent research reveals that not only does glucosamine boost HA in the joints but it also boosts the HA in the layers of human skin. In fact, HA is one of the primary ingredients in injectable "dermal fillers" like Restylane and Juvederm. Personally, I have a strong aversion to needles, so I'm more willing to try to ingest 1500 mg of Glucosamine each day than to endure the pricking of injections.

Wow, plump up my wrinkles while I'm eating some of my favorite foods, like scallops, shrimp, and lobster. Anyone ready for some sushi?

Fall Chores: Polishing the Silver

I love the crispness in the air today. It brings to mind all the poems of childhood like "The Frost is on the Pumpkin" and "Over the River and Through the Woods." The swirling colors of falling leaves seem to stir my inner rhythms with the anticipation of the family gatherings and holidays we soon will enjoy. In a few days, our family will gather here to celebrate the Fall Fathers' Birthdays, as my father, my father-in-law, and my son's father (also my husband) all have autumnal birthdays. Before I can take down the scarecrows and jack-o-lanterns it will be time to put out the Thanksgiving decorations, followed closely by the raising of the Christmas tree. It's my favorite time of year, this purposeful season of being grateful and expressing gratitude.

Today, the cool air seemed to encourage me to clean out closets and cupboards, as soon many cooks will descend upon my kitchen. One of my least favorite cleaning chores is to clean my beautiful tea service. I love these articles. I love the slowing down to sip hot tea and to savor our company as we wait for the water to boil and then the tea to steep. I love the continuity of using items that are much older than my brief tenure. I love to be mindful of those who have gathered round the pot in centuries past and those who will gather round it in the years to come. As such, it doesn't seem honorable that I so procrastinate when it comes to giving these items their much deserved cleaning and polishing. I try to be mindful of using harsh "quick and easy" chemicals on them, much as I am mindful of my own aging skin. But I have trouble finding the time to spend on rubbing things clean.

Then, I remembered a science project my son and I performed during our homeschooling years. Dare I hope that boiling water, baking soda, and aluminum foil could restore the shine to my silver?

Success! This project was my easiest cleaning project of all time. I added enough water in my deepest pot to cover the smaller pieces, leaving room for boiling. I placed a chunky sheet of aluminum foil in the bottom of the pan, boiled the water, added about 1/4 cup of baking soda, and boiled the pieces for about 3 minutes. When they came out of the soda water, I polished them gently with silver polish and dried them with a soft cloth. They look beautiful. This project was super easy, not very messy, and only took an hour to clean about 10 pieces. (I threw some extra pieces in there for good measure.)

As the great British Prime Minister William Gladstone opined, "If you are cold, tea will warm you. If you are too heated, it will cool you. If you are depressed, it will cheer you. If you are excited, it will calm you." I believe it's tea time -- with the silver pot, no doubt.

Unexpected Pleasures, Undeserved Gifts

My hubby and I just returned from a week's vacation in Phoenix with some of our dearest friends. I love the way that our life-paths were joined; it makes for a storyline from a heart-lifting movie. But, we can save that story for a different day. Bill and Robin are kindred spirits, and we have enjoyed several fun family vacations with them and their girls. Last week became a new chapter in the storybook of our friendship.

One of the activities that we share in common interest with them is golfing, and where better than Phoenix/Scottsdale to experience fabulous golf. Robin and I joined in the inaugural four-some at Wildfire's Arnold Palmer course. She and I then varied our activities to include hiking Pinnacle Peak, sitting beside the pool and waterfalls, and spending the day in the spa. The men played golf almost every day. In fact, they enjoyed the course at The Boulders so much they played it twice in one day! The crowning course, however, came on Friday, our last day to play in the sun. We spent the afternoon on The Monument course at Troon North. Not only did we find ourselves nestled among fantastically arranged boulders and desert flora, but we also found ourselves sharing the countryside with a vast array of animals, from iguanas and lizards to rabbits to dozens of varieties of birds. On one fairway, we were greeted by a solitary coyote who ambled along between the golfers as if he was one of the course's rangers. I searched diligently for the bobcats that reportedly cavort in the back canyon at dusk to no avail. My one disappointment of the week, as this "kitty lady" loves cats of all shapes and sizes.

We finished the 18th hole at Troon in deepening dusk, which brought a fabulous sunset over the desert. We capped our day with dinner at Roy's Restaurant at the JW Marriott at Desert Ridge. We had eaten with them earlier in the week with such enjoyment that we decided to return for our farewell dinner. After all, Roy's offers delicious food (try the Lobster Potstickers and the Butterfish entree) in a gorgeous setting. The hostess who made our reservation for Friday evening mentioned several times that we should be aware that the hotel was hosting a jazz concert on the lawn on Friday night, so we should be prepared for loud music. As Nashvillians accustomed to talented players providing music at almost every eatery in the metro area, we welcomed the opportunity to hear some of Phoenix's local talent. To say we were pleasantly surprised is a drastic understatement, as our dinner music Friday night was played by none other than Grammy award winning artist Boney James! How fitting that a remarkable vacation was capped by remarkable food in a remarkable setting with the most remarkable friends.

The night's enjoyment was made bittersweet as we learned of the sudden death of a friend and co-worker just before we went in to dinner. This news made us all even more aware of the brevity of life, the importance of living in the moment and living a life of purposeful gratitude.

Thanks for the gift of great friends who encourage you to see God's presence and His blessings in every step of life.

If the Walls Could Speak: The Brooks-Woodring-Kemp House

snowfall February 2006

The plight of friends and family during this recent round of home foreclosures has been difficult to endure. I’m grateful to partner with a local Franklin bank that places importance on its hometown relationships and going the extra mile to help people in tough places of life. Though many folks here in Franklin have suffered through financial upheavals and restructuring of their lives, they thankfully continue to find themselves with their well-beloved roofs over their heads and familiar soil under their feet.

While I myself have been spared the immediacy of dislocation, the house in which I live has seen the trials of the lives of three families other than my own. I often wish my walls not only had ears but also had mouths with which to speak the stories of the events it has witnessed. One such story would be the happenings of the Woodring-Nave family who lived here from 1851 until 1911. Their tenure brought many joyful occasions as well as tragic events, births to deaths, weddings and funerals, the War and Reconstruction.

When in 1851 beautiful young Emily Nave, of the Bunker Hill, Tennessee Nave clan, married George Woodring, a newly-arrived stonemason, her father presented the couple with the generous gift of a spacious house set on a five-acre lot a mere three blocks from the Pulaski town square. It was the perfect place for the artistic craftsman to ply his trade in the booming economy of The Land of Milk and Honey. The 1850s in Tennessewas an epoch of plenty – plenty of land, plenty of crops, plenty of building, plenty of opportunity. George Woodring took advantage of all his opportunities, and when the War began in 1861, he was regarded as one of the leaders of Pulaski, Tennessee.

Unfortunately, Pulaski fell to Union occupation troops in early 1862. Military law was put into place, and the land of plenty became a land of deprivation.

Ever resourceful, however, the Woodring family became leaders in the underground resistance. In their case, underground was a literal term, in that, after a little careful tunneling, the root cellar under their house opened into a cavern that was part of the cave system underneath the town of Pulaski. Many people who might otherwise have starved received food via the Woodring tunnel.

At the war’s end, Mr. Woodring found himself in much the same situation as many other Tennesseans in that he had no currency with which to pay the exorbitant property taxes on his home and little hope of finding enough work to earn money to sustain life, much less pay taxes. The hopelessness of the situation draped over the family, and they prepared themselves to be evicted. Fortunately, however, the Woodrings had many friends in Pulaski. On the day of the foreclosure sale, these friends pooled their own limited funds and bought the Woodring’s house. These wonderful friends not only bought the house, but they, with great legal foresight, deeded the house back to Mrs. Woodring with the codicil that the house belonged solely to Emily Nave Woodring, who was “not responsible for any of the debts of her husband, George Woodring.” Brilliant!

The Woodrings raised four sons and one daughter in this house. Mr. Woodring lived alone in the house for a couple of years after Miss Emily passed on. After his death, the house was sold to the Butler family, who lived here until their deaths in the 1940s. The house stood abandoned from this time until we moved it in 1991 from its original house site in Pulaski to its current setting in the rolling hills of Williamson County, Tennessee. I’ve loved every moment of my time as an inhabitant of this house. Perhaps someday in the distant future, these walls will whisper my story to a new generation of inhabitants.

The house as I found it in February 1991--