Real Women Ski Uphill And Other Michigan Moments

When you cannot sew a quilt, you write a quilt; you sew with words. So I will write a quilt of 2000 miles and Michigan moments.

* Robin’s Egg Blue and Lavender 9 Patch Block. The Au Sable Cross Country Ski Trail in the morning. Ice, water, and trees made a pastel glow and the Lord and I talked as I skied. The first wipe out of the day, I heard my body say to its component members, “Oh, we’re doing this again, are we?”

* Crimson Bear’s Paw Block. We started the fourth mile of the trail and I concluded that I have 3 miles in me at a time. The huge paw print in the snow had to be a hangry bear. By God’s grace, trails do end and we regained the car, heaving, and snacked on apples that were the best apples we’ve ever had.

*Meyer Lemon and Olive Green Pinwheel Block. What color is youth? A group from Earlham College spread an enormous cooler full of picnic in front of the fireplace in the Stone Turtle Lodge and snapped, scrolled, laughed, and ate. Remind me to tell Will Sieg about the brilliant girl in the so-cool headband who spread peanut butter and Nutella on a flour tortilla!

*Granite and Pitch Rail Fence Block. Wet, pot-holed roads in hard-working towns between the lovely lakes and woods.

*Silver Silk and Pearl Batik Half-Square Triangle Block. Rolling Hills Trail in the sparkling cold afternoon. Emily Dickinson wrote of that ‘certain slant of light’ on winter afternoons. Yes. Yes, indeed. Spliced with tree trunks, the slant of light lit the snow and inspired us to crouch and go down the hills with poles tucked back like Olympians.

*Solid White Block, ‘062588’ embroidered in white thread in Bodoni 72 Smallcaps Font.

*Desert Camo, Denim, Sandpaper, and Pleather 9 Patch Block. What our car looks like inside and out.

*Muslin and Orange Calico Flying Geese Block. Goodale Bakery in Grayling, MI. ‘Pasties’ are beef stew in pastry pockets that warm the gizzards. Those and a 50 cent bag of popcorn got us through the afternoon. It’s good I don’t live here. The only way to take on Old Man Winter is to stay inside and eat.

*Sunflower Barn Art Block. Sally at Spike’s Keg O’Nails Restaurant. I called Donalyn ‘incomparable,’ but Sally compares. Genuine warmth and interest overflowed from Sally as she extolled her hometown and gave helpful advice. We laughed at her honest comment that cross-country skiing was not her cup of tea because, “I mean, I’m walking and walking and walking and not getting anywhere!” All said in that North Mitten accent.

*Sherbert and Wine Log Cabin Block in Amish Solids. Oh, the 9 Oaks Inn. What we owe you! Our nook in the cold. Gas heat and hot water at crucially needed times. And to Bryan – stepping in for the motel’s owners who were sitting pretty in Bradenton, Florida – our thanks. Bryan anticipated a desk job, dealing with working men who wouldn’t need much from him beyond a towel and an ash tray. How could he foresee that the septic tank would back up and the lights would go out and the generator would be frozen and crotchety all in one night? Our hearts bled for Bryan as we heard him out there in the bitter cold with his band-aided fingers whanging some part of the motel generators with a 2-foot crescent wrench, using choice words, and talking on the phone to Bradenton. Little did he know that Andrew was praying against his success because the generators were one thin pane of glass away from our lair and you know they are loud. The fact that Michigan Power and Light got the electricity on fairly quickly takes nothing away from Bryan’s heroics. As we left, I gave him a candle and love from Alabama. (His band-aided fingers are another story altogether.)

*Traditional Fan Block, Indigo Blue fanbase, Spokes of varied white hues – eggshell, bone, vanilla, smoke – on a Background of Daffodil yellow batik. Detroit. Breakfast with Jay and Lydia and the view out their back windows; Redeemer Midtown Presbyterian Church and their call to be the love of Christ to Detroit; sunshine in February on detailed downtown architecture; a Lebanese lunch at Al Ameer where the meat is better than candy; people of every variety; and three little girls playing in their front yard on a blighted street. The width of these experiences compelled us to think about what we are called to do and be in this world. One thing is sure: we cannot coast through this life. Don’t you love a life that is bigger than this world?

                                               

      

                                       

*And then the random crazy block of moments like us stove-up and Andrew referring to cross-country skiing as ‘you know what.’
Or when Michiganders referred to ‘up north.’ Any more north than this and, surely, you have crossed the pole and are headed back south?!
Or the directions including take a ‘Michigan left.’ No joke. That is a thing.
Or the interesting plastic pan in our motel room that was clearly an important amenity and was a mystery to us. Sled? Serving tray? Ahhh, snowy boot holder! Who knew?

Or walking on water! We had never walked on a frozen lake before.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow! We are humbled with gratitude for this trip and this glorious and fallen and beloved world.

November Nomad: Lessons From The Road

Flexibility is the jewel of youth.
I am not young.
Nevertheless, I can roll with it
If the road requires –
Provided certain non-negotiables:
Good coffee, hot shower.
Otherwise, I am Thor Heyerdahl.

I love my children and those I have adopted.
Settled happiness is listening to
Insights and laughter
From the offspring of my youth.

I love mountains. Earth above me is
Ultimate humility.

I love Montreat mountains – Assembly Inn,
Hewed from the rocky side of the bowl that
Holds Lake Susan, cold air straight from
God’s pure storehouses into my hot lungs,
Frost on every brown leaf under the laurels.

I love going to another church and singing –
No, shouting! –
Receiving the sermon from the lips of
A man of God, deep conviction and
Deeper healing. Oh! Thank you, Lord!

I love my in-laws. What I learn from them is,
As another said, A long obedience in the
Same direction. We love to think compromise
Is smart. They teach me it is not.

I love beauty. My heart sings of the beauty of
Antique stores – tiny cream pitchers in striped
Stoneware, sideboards chalk-painted buttercream
Leaving dark cherry exposed. Deep
Knowledge that time is fleeting and I am too.

I love a table of shared food – green curry in my
Daughter’s first home. Bennet Avenue by
Candlelight.

I love my children’s loves. I am speechless over
Their finding their soul’s friend.

I love traveling with Andrew. How many times we
Laugh and say, I was JUST thinking that!

I love going. Well, I hate packing with a
White hatred. But, I love the first vista of
Smoky blue mountains just past Knoxville.
I love woodsmoke and
That fall sun that both slices and mists.

I love the quilt on the wall at
The Yellow Deli – two-inch squares of
Upholstery fabric become, in the hands
Of the artist, a window onto a creek bank,
Shadowy undergrowth and light-tipped leaf,
Silver water over moss and rock bed, and all from
Crushed velvet sofa scraps.

I love hearing God tell me that
He is my rock and I am the
Apple of his eye; I can hear him deeper
When I’m on the road.

      

    

     

   

   

    

            

     

     

     

     

Psalm 17 and 18