Thoughts Then, Thoughts Now

 

Compiled from excerpts of past Garden Gate columns, by my friend and co-worker, Haze, during the week I was in no shape to write. Thanks Haze!

Life, like any garden, has seasons.

I often speak of the Circle of Life, of season’s coming and going, of the natural order of things. It seems to me, however, that there are parts of the whole Circle of Life thing that I’d really rather just not think about, except in distant theory.

That is until the theory becomes cruel fact and I must spend time thinking about the reality of Life’s circle. this week, My mom passed away...And I am suddenly a motherless child, in a cold world, weeping on the floor, wondering who will take care of me now?

When the unthinkable happens--- when I am changed in that horrible moment from who I was into who I now must be, when by circumstance I am remade into someone new-- I am full of broken places and sharp edges and I am made suddenly immune to heat or cold, or hunger or sleep. And yet in that awful place of finality, in that place of no second chances, no do-overs, no one more I love you, no last goodbye ---in that dark place there is still a light. 

I know that grief is not simple—that it is not only ONE BIG THING that overwhelms, I know that it will be a million little things that will crack us wide open all over again, time after time. I know that we have a long journey ahead and there is probably a lot left to learn about this process. But in the dark, there is light, and I can see it.

We push back against the darkness with light—Christmas lights, candle lights-- the light shared with those we love; the light commemorating those we have lost.

“...Reach so far in your sharing that you hold the sun in one hand, the stars in the other, and no one between is hungry...” (“In Dark December,” by Ralph Murre)

The simple beauty of those words, the truth and hope in them, are a candle all their own, a reminder to “Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle”-JM Barry.

If I am sad at times, then I will be happy in between those times. Even on this journey of grief, of missing someone so dear to me, I will count my blessings and I will call them happiness. I will stitch together happiness out of little pieces of delightful memories until it becomes a whole cloth and I will wear it.

I am starting my happiness collection today. I will number my blessings as the stars are numbered. There are so many signs of kindness from so many people, so much concern and care. The spirit, the traditions, and the memories will live, even though the physical being no longer does.  There is love, all around me….It goes on.

Oh, My Mom...

~ Remembering Nova ~

Nova Elaine Leathers Mullins
April 29, 1930 - November 7, 2020

Nova was born amid the Great Depression, the youngest child of Iola Elenore (Jenkins) and John Carrol Leathers. She transitioned 90 years later during a world-wide pandemic. The thing that matters most about her was not the tale at the end, or even the story of her beginning—but how she lived her “dash.” 

Nova’s zest, her love for life, for learning and teaching, her absolutely unquenchable spirit—these are the things that make us smile when we remember her. The youngest of six Leathers children--brothers Ed Carroll, Robert, Neel, Shirl and her sister, Elizabeth “Sue” (Davis).

Nova spent her childhood in Bird City, Kansas, riding her bike to deliver the newspaper. She often had to pedal faster to keep her dog Sailor from scrapping with the other town dogs. When it was time to do chores, one would have to go find her, because she would be tucked away in some cozy nook quietly lost in a book. 

Nova was a born teacher. She taught in both Kansas and later in Washington. She was drawn to the Randle area because, while she appreciated the beauty of the Kansas prairie, she wanted to live between the mountains and the ocean. One of her second-grade students suggested that Miss Leathers should really meet her “Uncle Woody”, and eventually, Nova and Willis Mullins were married in February of 1960. They had two daughters, Sue Ann (Sume) and Wilma Jean (Smale). 

When Wilma started kindergarten, Nova returned to full-time teaching at the Packwood Elementary School. She taught fifth grade for many years and remains famous for her insistence that her students master their ‘times’ tables. It wasn’t unusual for student after student, class after class, to be able to successfully complete 100 multiplication problems in under a minute. She also taught second and third grade; Nova loved the opportunity to teach her young students the joys of reading. “Seven-year old’s”, she would often say, “are magical.” 

Besides her love for teaching, Nova’s faith was one of her defining attributes. Her faith was deep--- personal, immediate, and abiding. Every Sunday she would fill her car with kids—often making multiple trips insuring that everyone who needed a ride to Sunday School got one. While Nova would never be known for her ability to carry a tune, you would never question her enthusiasm for worship. She rejoiced in the Lord, in all His works, and was certainly a member of the “Make a Joyful Noise” choir if there ever was one.

After she retired from teaching, Nova became a passionate gardener, declaring a full-on war on dandelions. Woe be to the yellow weed that dared to show its face in her yard! During retirement she logged many miles walking her dogs, volunteering for the Soup & Bread Brigade, attending exercise classes, donating to her favorite charities, and feeding the birds.

Nova was consistent at successfully spoiling her grandchildren, Jordan, Devin and Cameron Sume. She cheered at every single one of their sporting events. Nova also has three great-grands: John Shane, age two; Aiden Allen, nine months; and coming in February, yet another boy! 

Even as Alzheimer’s began to steal her from us, she never lost her love of family, her passion for song, her flirty nature, and her desire to do things “Right.” Nova flourished under the loving care she received and spent her final weeks recovering from hip surgery at the home of her daughter Wilma in Yakima, Washington. 

We will miss Nova greatly, but we rejoice with glad hearts that she is no longer tethered to an earthly body with its many frailties. We know Heaven is much the better to have her in it. 

“Well done, thy good and faithful servant!”

 

NOvember

When my kids were in Preschool, Marilyn—the Best Pre-School Teacher Ever—taught them about each month with a clever little ditty. For November, it was “No flowers. No leaves. November.”   

I’m also old enough to remember that, back in the day, when we were offered something mood-altering we were supposed to JUST SAY NO. Now that November has arrived with all its moody, gray skies and volatile temperature changes, I seriously considering putting that advice to work.  

NO, I will say to November, no thanks. Take your waning daylight and your bare branches and skedaddle.  I’m not interested.  

No flowers? No leaves? No thanks! Let’s just skip right over the month of November—perhaps with a small pause on the final Thursday for some family, football and food, if we must—and then get right into the Season of Light.  

Let’s string lights, and light candles, and toss some glitter around—anything that will brighten the shorter days and shorten the long, long nights. 

I don’t care if you’re not into carols or candy canes, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t appreciate Christmas lights—provided you’re not asking them to actually string the lights from the eves and trees and assorted shrubberies, that is.  

So let me offer you this free piece of advice: if the darker days are dragging you down, don’t be bound by the calendar and conventional wisdom; go hang your Christmas lights up now. And by hang them up, I of course mean try to get somebody else to do it for you.   

And if they agree, please send me their name and I’ll go dig my lights out of storage and await their arrival.  

So November? I say just say NO and let it GLOW.