Had lunch of leftover vege-beef soup and leftover fruit salad. Good Eats. Then I put load number four into the dryer, and started load number five. Seems like the laundry piled up whilst I was working a banquet.
Where was I? but first, I have to answer an e-mail from the church office about how great everything was last evening.
Heh, heh, if she only knew the half of it.
The program was what can be called an Open Mic. Anybody with a notion can get up and say something. I did ask for a sign-up so there could be some sort of order or I could get necessary tools in place.
The first speaker read a Mother’s Day Proclamation penned in Boston by Julia Ward Howe, who is better known for writing _The Battle Hymn of the Republic_.
The ending was so moving
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask That a general congress of women without limit of nationality May be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient And at the earliest period consistent with its objects To promote the alliance of the different nationalities, The amicable settlement of international questions. The great and general interests of peace.
This was written in the year 1870, but is quite appropriate for today.
The next lady is a grandmother of the cutest brown-eyed girl in the county. She said she wanted to include the children, so she did a story complete with butterfly cut-outs, glue, hand motions, and her granddaughter doing a little tour of the audience to show us how nice the project turned out, while we all sang a song. I think for that one, kiddies of all ages were included.
I read a little piece about Grandma’s apron being used in many different ways. Much nodding of heads and giggling going on. This moved one woman to stand up and take the mike and tell how an apron covered an entire pregnancy because the neighbor didn’t even know until after the sibling’s announcement.
Next was a mother and daughter who have two perspectives about how the events of life go round then come back again with grandchildren. Hardly a dry eye in the place when they got to the part about giving birth to your best friend.
My own bestest surprise of the evening came when a teenager had signed her name on the list that she wanted to read a paper she had written for a class, but wanted to share with friends. The antics that she and her sisters got into, my oh, my. Climbing up to the roof, putting a truck in gear and then getting it to stop before ramming into the corncrib. Yikes! I said that all my sons hadn’t brought that much trouble, then the mother called out “that you know about!” which brought a wonderful round of laughter. Have you ever heard 90 women laughing? The most joyous sound I’ve heard in quite a long time.
A worn and creased paper with faded ink was being held in a shaking hand of the next lady. She said it was actually a letter written by a son to his mother who is a relative of her husband. Her mother-in-law had found it in the estate and known it to be a treasure. As it was being read carefully, I was thinking that if every son were to write such a sweet letter to his mother, all the peace mentioned in that first essay would surely come to pass.
Surely there were Holy Eyes over the sign-up list. We were getting a little taste of all sorts of delights.
A librarian by career, our next speaker read from a book The Librarian Of Basra: A True Story From Iraq written and illustrated BY JEANNETTE WINTER. Sometimes I think the people behind the scenes know so very much about what to put in front of the audience. I might never have known about this tale of great bravery of one little woman who cares about books, no matter how much did I research for meaningful events.
The last person is a lady I had moved to the end on purpose, even though her name had been a little higher on the list. She had a brown paper package wrapped up with tape. Knowing her gift for gab, I was sure a great story was going to go alongside.
And there was. The paper was torn off to reveal a picture of her mother. The story was about how her mother stood up for her daughter, in the days when girls weren’t thought to be worthy of much education and attention. She went to college, she vacationed in Europe. She had a career, all with the pride of her mother and the blessing of her father. She has confidence in herself, because her mother believed she is worthy.
I am thinking that is such a fine legacy, more so than heirlooms of jewelry or china.
We closed with the Lord’s Prayer. It had been awhile since I have heard that spoken, and I really love to hear it in a group setting. Yet another perk of being the program planner.
The response to the program was tremendous. I heard someone ask for a copy of something that had been read. One lady said she expects to see more of me doing this kind of activity.
Believe me, I do prefer the pots and dishwasher of the kitchen.
I gathered what I could of the leftovers and supplies, made sure all the dishcloth/door prizes got claimed, helped the janitor put away a table.
I was willing to stay to do more, but he looked over at me and said something about JUDGING AMY this evening, and I should be getting on home.
When I hurried through the door, the VCR was on Record, so I just let it run. I had stuff to put away, and I was too keyed up to sit and zoid in front of TV. Nice thing about videotape, it waits.
A sweet gift happened within a few minutes of my arrival. Chris and Shannon came out to the kitchen to have some fruit salad and listened to me chatter on and on about the little details and quotes of the evening.
It is really really precious to have someone to come home to.
Then they went off somewhere, and Husband got home from the gym. Then he listened while I chattered on and on some more.
We left the dishes in the sink. Nice thing about the dishwasher in working order.
Then I’m off today, no classes or meetings. Loaded and ran the dishwasher just after sunrise. I stripped our bed and got the laundry caught up.
I have been typing much of the day for a reason I like much better than Composition research papers.
Thanks for reading.
~~love and Huggs, Diane