Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Wasn’t Mister Rogers the coolest? I loved watching his show with Mitchell when he was a preschooler. His calm voice, the way he changed into his cardigan sweater and sneakers and invited all his viewers to “be his neighbor.”

Whenever I see a guy in a cardigan, I call it a Mister Roger’s sweater. I just bought one for my college-age boy. I like the new “look” he’s going for. He’ll have lots of new “neighbors” in his dorm, and I bet he’ll have friends by the first night. That’s the thing about dorms and boarding schools; kids are put together in close proximity and can’t help but connect. Their families are gone so they make a family of friends.

In the world of houses, driveways and garages, people can get out of their cars and into their homes in a flash. No need to say hello to anyone if you don’t want to. While watching the TVLand show “Hot in Cleveland” I heard one of the gals say, “I only saw my neighbors during an earthquake.” Funny, but sometimes too true…

I’ve always considered myself a “welcoming” neighbor. Whenever anyone moved onto my street I would take over a plate of brownies or cookies, introduce myself, and ask if I could help in any way. Today at church our pastor was teaching on how to love your neighbor and that it is all about doing or acting-helping meet needs.

This summer it was my turn to be the new neighbor. I remember telling my daughter that people in the Mid-west were super friendly, and she was totally expecting a “proper welcome”. Two days went by before anyone stopped by. A sweet gal two doors down gave me her phone number and recommended her favorite pizza place. Next we met the family beside us. They’ve been very friendly and their son has taken care of our pets for us. But that’s it. No one else made any effort to come over. No brownies, no info about schools or doctors. We have been invited to a block party in a couple weeks where I hope to make some new acquaintances.

Am I weird because I want people to treat our family the way we’ve always treated others? The bible says in Gal 5:14 The entire law is summed up in a single command: "Love your neighbor as yourself." I need to remember that it’s not all about me. Maybe my neighbors could use a friend but don’t know what they’ll find if they knock on my door.

It took three horrible, lonely days before my daughter suddenly got connected with some really nice girls at her new high school. Adults are sometimes slower to act… maybe I need to be more patient (one of Fred Roger’s lovable character traits) and before I know it I’ll have more relationships near my home.

Last night there were police cars and a rescue vehicle in front of my neighbor’s home. I have no idea what happened, and I don’t want to be a nosy neighbor, but I can leave a plate of cookies on their front porch to show I care.

I See the Moon

I can’t sleep well unless the room is REALLY dark. A have three different eye masks that I often grab and put on to block the light. The one I bought at Old Navy with painted-on eyes is not my husband’s favorite. I keep them in my bedside table and grab one if I can’t sleep. Sometimes I want to sleep while my husband is reading in bed so I want to block the lamp light. Sometimes the sun rises a bit too early for me. Last night I thought the neighbor’s security light was streaming in my window, but on second glance I realized it was the moon. Wow! It was SO bright! A favorite childhood song ran through my head as I tried to go back to sleep.My Mom sang it to me, and I used to sing it to all four of my children:


I see the moon,the moon sees me,
I see somebody I’d like to be,
God bless the moon and God bless me,
God bless somebody I’d like to be.
It seems to me that God above,
Created you for me to love,
He picked you out from all the rest,
Because He knew I’d love you the best.

My family went to the Alder Planetarium last weekend in Chicago. Although it didn’t live up to its advertising, the presentation we watched was another reminder of the awesome creative power of God. Thinking about all the stars and galaxies in outer space is humbling.

The moon fascinates me. It reflects the Sun’s light and yet it looks like it’s lit from within. That’s supposed to be our job too, as believers. We are to be “lit from within” by the Spirit and reflecting God’s image to those around us.

“And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” 2 Corinthians 3:18

So… I haven’t been doing such a good job lately. I’m pretty wrapped up in self-pity right now. The only reflection people might see is an underlying anger and sadness because I’m grieving the loss of my friends and the house I left behind in Washington. If given the option, I’m sure my husband would like to put on a sleep mask so he didn’t have to look at me…The moon has stages, I guess I'm going through stages too. I'm in the "moving-madness" stage. Hopefully I'll shine a bit brighter for the Lord as time goes by.

Seeing is Believing...

My oldest sister is a teacher for the visually impaired. She’s told me many stories of how blind children learn to compensate with all their other senses. If I had to choose only one sense to help me learn, it would be sight. For me, seeing is believing.

One day last year, I was on the Narrows Bridge on a foggy day. I lived on a Peninsula, and the only way to get across Puget Sound to the city was to cross the suspension bridge. Some days the fog would roll in and I couldn’t see the end of the bridge or the land on the other side. I had to TRUST that it was there, and keep on driving. I thought this was a good example of what faith is like.

As I drove across the bridge I sort of held my breath, gripped the steering wheel, and tried to look straight ahead rather than looking beside or behind me. This was especially true on windy days.

We can't always SEE evidence, yet we KNOW God is working in our lives.

At the moment, my daughter and I are in the middle of a “bridge” and it feels windy AND foggy. We have left our safe "harbor" and are on our way to a year that will be filled with new people and new experiences. We are trying to look forward and not be distracted by memories and disappointments. I’ve been gripping my devotional tightly and holding my breath a lot.

School hasn’t started so we haven’t had opportunities to make friends in our new town. Today was get your schedule, books and locker day and all we could think about was how fun it was with friends last year. Today was so different… We had to PAY A LOT for books; there weren’t any friends to compare schedules with, and then the “kicker”. They ran out of lockers and asked if she could share with a friend. “Well,” I said, “that would be very unlikely since we were brand new in town and didn’t HAVE any friends yet!” I think the secretary heard the Mama Lion in my voice coming through loud and clear.

To top off the FOGGY feeling, my daughter has learned first-hand that sports in this town are a bit more competitive than at her old school, and she was cut from the team she had assumed she would make. I suppose we should never assume, but just always do our best. The one thing we CAN cling to is Hebrew 13:5, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." God is right here with us.

He did, after all, provide Jesus as our bridge into a relationship with Him.

Our summer is winding down, and the days have been filled with sunshine. Despite the sun, our hearts are feeling stormy. We are thankful for each other and wise, encouraging friends who are cheering us on. We are both going to keep moving forward, and hopefully in just a few weeks we’ll make it to the other “side” and be able to breathe.

Trying to Trust,
xo Jane

Hair… Long Beautiful Hair

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If you grew up in the 1960’s and 1970’s, then you probably remember the song “Hair” by the Cowsills. It was one of their biggest hit singles in 1969, and the title song to the musical. I never realized that the television show “the Partridge Family” was modeled after the Cowsills. (You can find so many interesting facts on google…)

When I was seven, I wanted to be just like Susan Cowsill. She was the youngest singer in the popular family group. She had a pixie, I had a pixie. She had cute big brothers, I wanted some. (All I had were two big sisters…) My parents kept my hair short until I rebelled in fifth grade and said I wanted to grow it. I asked my Mom recently why she made me keep it short and her reply had something to do with keeping it easy. I remember my Daddy used to trim my bangs out in the garage while I sat on the yellow stool. Later, when I grew it LONG, my older sister Jill used to trim the ends.

By seventh grade I was Rapunzel. I took great pride in having my golden hair down to my waist. Looking back at pictures it was a bit “much”. I kept it really long until mid-way through college, when I bravely went to a few inches past my shoulders. There is a saying that you shouldn’t change or cut your hair too close to your wedding, but I didn’t listen. In the spring before my June nuptials, I had lots of layers cut. It wasn’t in our budget to hire a hair stylist the day of the wedding so I have vivid memories of fighting with my electric rollers at the church and even saying some very un-bride-like words when it wasn’t looking like I’d envisioned.

I still wear my hair long for a “woman of a certain age”. I must need it for security or because it makes me feel a bit younger. Perhaps I feel it gives me power, just like Samson’s hair did. I spend way too much on upkeep every 7 weeks; trim and hi-lights. My youngest daughter must have acquired my “hair gene” because she loves her hair long too. A few years ago she decided to get it cut and donate it to Locks of Love, but despite the honorable reason she was devastated and immediately began growing it back. I can barely convince her to trim the ends now!

She learned another life lesson last weekend. I had discouraged her from using any hair color on her pretty, sun-lightened brown hair, but she chose to ignore my advice and used a semi-permanent dye while she was out of town with friends. It left her not looking/feeling like herself.

When we look in the mirror, what is the reflection we see? We get used to someone looking back at us that seems familiar. (We’ve just booked an appointment to undo her “do” right before school pictures...)

Having survived cancer many years ago with two surgeries but no chemo or radiation, I sometimes get nervous about the horrible disease returning-forcing me into chemotherapy to fight for my life. Two of my dear friends have battled cancer and worn scarves and wigs. One is a survivor; one is in the thick of the battle. They’ve taught me through their humility, grace, strength and tenacity that you really don’t need hair to be beautiful.

I’ve always loved the story in Luke 7:36-50 when the woman used her expensive oil and her long hair to wash the feet of Jesus. Her hair became an instrument for giving a gift to the master.

My family's hair situation at the moment is: husband (who doesn't have much hair left), my oldest son (who is beginning to lose his hair), my oldest daughter(who is completely comfortable in her cute short cut), my teenage son (who has grown his hair long because he can) and my youngest daughter (who wishes she’d listened to her mama about hair color.) I am reminded that hair is only temporary. I’m thankful for the hair I have right now, but I would choose life over hair.

You Look Happy to Me, to Me

When my babies were tiny, and I was rocking them, one of my favorite songs I sang them was “Edelweiss” from the Sound of Music. The sweet little song about an Alpine flower became my go-to song as they grew and I tucked them in bed, and all four of my children seemed to like it. I took liberty with the last lyric, and changed the words to “bless my Mitchell forever”! (Or Allie, T.J. or Sarah- whoever I was singing to…)

The real song goes:
Edelweiss, Edelweiss
Every morning you greet me
Small and white, clean and bright
you look happy to meet me
Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever
Edelweiss, Edelweiss
Bless my homeland forever

As my oldest son’s wedding approached, he mentioned that while Amy danced with her daddy, I would get to dance with him. I was filled with delight and fear. Even after a few “lessons” of ballroom dancing at our church, I still have trouble following- I suppose it’s my natural desire to lead?... I didn’t want to make a fool of myself and we’d had zero chances to practice. The wedding was amazing (more about that in a later blog) and the reception was in full swing when it was time for our special dance. Imagine my delight when the song Edelweiss began. Apparently Amy’s parents also used to sing her that song as a baby. So many very cool coincidences- we choose to believe it’s just more confirmation that Mitch & Amy were meant to be together. Amy’s parents live in Colorado, and we’ve just transplanted from the Seattle area to a suburb of Illinois, but we both were married on June 11, 1983 on the north and south-side of Indianapolis. Pretty cool, huh? We have a better chance of them remembering our anniversaries.

So the song played and while we danced, we talked. About how perfect the wedding was, about how happy he was, about how much fun the reception was. I had been wondering if I’d cry throughout the event and I hardly did at all! God allowed me to fully enjoy the blessing of watching my first child enter into the holy union. Just like in Ecclesiastes 3:4 where it says “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” I could forget about the sadness I’d experienced at having to move away from friends and adjust to three of my kids living in another state. I danced and I smiled and I laughed.


What joy! Dancing with your child at their wedding is as wonderful as rocking your newborn baby to sleep. I am learning that time marches on… children grow older…and that’s ok.