Home to Texas

Good-bye daily walk to the beach!

Good-bye view of the ocean from my beach chair!

Good-bye elderly tourist fashionistas!

On my way home to Texas today, and I have to confess it is rough leaving and knowing I'm going back to face more Reality. I think I've cried more tears this week then in all my other years combined. Hoping that the worst is behind me in the privacy of this vacation. 

I found a quote by actress Helen Hayes. Looking back on the period following her husband's death, she said, "I was just as crazy as you can be and still be at large."  That is exactly how I feel at times.

Back to teaching inservice on August 17; students August 24. Wishing to be ready.

Signs

Well, what vacation would be complete without a visit to the Outlet Malls? I've tried to take the scenic backroads everywhere I went while I was in Maine, but the Outlet trip was taken on the toll road for speed and efficiency. I found new school shoes, and some amazing information: summer clothes are discounted 90% here because it is almost time for the Mainers (I promise that is what they call themselves...) will start pulling out their fall clothes soon. The summer blouses I just bought? I can probably comfortably wear them through Thanksgiving in Texas.
This is  a real business in the area I'm staying near. Multi-tasking at its best.
These signs just go up in random driveways after a day's catch. 13 lobsters for less than $4 each. This is the time of year for soft shell lobsters, because they are shedding their shells as they grow. The locals tell me the meat is sweeter and more tender during soft shell season. Kind of makes you want to choke at Red Lobster's prices, doesn't it?
My own sign, written on the beach this morning during low tide. Taking this with me and holding onto it for the return trip to Texas tomorrow.

Touring

Yesterday morning began (as always) with a cup of coffee and (not 'as always') a walk on the beach.  (Only because my hometown is landlocked, unlike this magical Maine locale.) Loving the low tide and feeling like I'm getting to discover a new place while the rest of the world sleeps.

Today, I decided to to into Portland and take a guided tour. My favorite stop was this lighthouse, where Longfellow reportedly wrote his appropriately titled poem "The Lighthouse" with the familiar words  "Sail on! Sail on!" Still good advice.
Our tour guide was a retired fellow with personality plus. He went by the name "Bampy" because his grandsons can't say their "g" sounds yet. Ahhhh! Sweet story.  Big tip for Bampy at the end of the tour. Where I ask him how far the Portland Public Market is. "Five blocks up the hill." This is walkable? "Oh, yes, no problem," promises Bampy. And I won't have any trouble finding it? "Oh, you'll go right to it!" gushes Bampy.

After I hiked up the mountain that is downtown Portland,  Maine, I discovered a few more questions I should have asked Bampy like, "Is it in a safe part of town?"  I found I passed blocks  of Salvation Army shelters that had not yet opened for the night. Those waiting for a place to sleep just crashed all over the route to the Public Market with their grocery carts blocking the sidewalk. It was the first time on this vacation that I felt a little leery of being alone.

When I finally reached the Public Market, I discovered one more key question I neglected to run by Bampy: "IS IT OPEN ANYMORE?" My printed literature showed a thriving Public Market that rivaled Seattle's fish throwing market. (I imagined here they would throw lobsters and I'd have some fresh "chowdah"...IF IT HAD BEEN OPEN.) Closed, shuttered, neglected and boarded up, Portland's Public Market is no more. And somewhere Bampy is laughing all the way to the bank with his tips. My cynical mind wondered if he even had grandsons...

But, the walk back had a few delights of its own. You think Austin has some different ideas? Check this out: "Soakology: a foot sanctuary and teahouse". You soak, you drink, you are happy as a moose. (Notice I did not say "happy as a clam": the Public Market that sells them is closed. But I'm not bitter.)

I also discovered this delightful row of chairs. Perfect for sitting and thinking. I find on this trip that I am doing many of the same things that I did when D and I made this trip two summers ago. It makes this traveling alone much easier because everything seems familiar somehow.

 When I taught in private schools and prospective students would visit, we would pair them up with a trusted student (shout out to Syd Smith!) to show them around. We called this method "shadowing". I feel like I've been shadowing D during this vacation, trying the familiar alone first. Then I can ease into the solo trips.

During D's last weeks, I'd ask him what he was thinking. "You", he'd reply, "I'm thinking about how you will do later." He spent as much energy as he could giving me advice about how to manage money and practical things when he was gone. One night he seemed much lighter of spirit and made an announcement. "I've decided you will do just fine. You have great friends and family who will take good care of you." Shadowing. Making sure I had someone to show me around.

Well, kill the fatted calf: the prodigal pictures have resurfaced! I was able to finally upload these to the blog from my Kennebunkport travels.

This is the Bush compound.
This is the Colony hotel, home to generations of Maine vacationers.  Photoshopped to look like it was taken 'back in the day'.
This is the home where I am staying. My friend, K, keeps this house 2,000 miles away from her home in Texas, as a retreat sanctuary for friends and family. And we are all so blessed and refreshed by her generosity and kindness.

Wait and See

I took my coffee to the beach this morning. I was alone except for a dad strolling his baby in the low tide, probably letting the mom sleep in. The sands of Maine contain such different treasures then the gulf shores of Texas. Where Texas has all manner of shells, Maine beaches offer colored rocks, tumbled smooth by the waves. There are also tiny bits of sea glass, probably the result of ancient ships' bottles. There are entire stores in this area that sell jewelry fashioned from sea glass. Enough so that I'm thinking more than a little of it is what the French refer to as "faux", or in Texan-ese,  "fake".

But, it is the perfectly tumbled rocks that hold my attention this morning. On our last trip to Maine, I brought home bags of them, and made my suitcase exceed the weight limit. We had to pay extra for my weighty souvenirs. "What do you have in there, rocks?" my husband kidded. Well, yes. I did. And I  learned my lesson. 

This trip I'll totally put my beach rocks in my carry-on bag.

It has taken years upon years of waves tumbling these rocks to knock of all their sharp edges and polish them into things of beauty. Picking them up this morning reminds me of the song we used to sing in toddler Bible school, " I'm just an old chunk of coal, but I'm going to be a diamond some day..." Formed by pressure, polished by tumbling. Good things can come out of these squeezing tight times.

"There is hope for me yet

Because God won't forget

All the plans he's made for me

I have to wait and see

He's not finished with me yet."

(from "Wait and See" by Brandon Heath)

Songs That Make the Whole World Sing

 I took some great pictures today and loaded them on my MacBook, photoshopped them in new! and innovative! and great! ways. Went to upload them to Blogger...and find they are trapped in some kind of bloggy purgatory. I see them on iPhoto; I do not see them at Blogger uploads. So: you will not see the house I'm staying in, the house the Bush family stays at in Kennebunkport or the hotel that generations of Mainers (yes, that is how they refer to themselves) have stayed in called "The Colony". (A return to gentler times before there was a need for pictures that hovered somewhere out there in the blog-isphere.)

So, let's just cut to the chase: One of the thoughts I came to Maine with was from my friend K. She said that during a difficult time in her life (and trust me: it was difficult) she felt like God "took over" her mind and showed her truth in areas in which she needed healing. I came with that prayer on my lips: "Take over my mind, Lord..."  as I've struggled with some regrets and some things I wish that I could "do over" concerning D. And I've seen truth come and replace regret and failings in my mind. There is nothing more that I could have done. God ordained the time and the circumstances. I could not have changed  them. Because I am not God. Revelation.

Some other things I have wrestled with were the questions 'What do I do now? Will I ever feel joy again? Why do I feel guilty about going on alone?" Even as I asked the questions, a precious friend, C, texted me  Psalm 16:11 "You will make known to me the path of life; in Your presence is fulness of joy; in Your right hand are pleasures forever." I'd say that verse laid out all the answers.

I don't want you to think that I spend all my time with my hands on either side of my head writhing in agony while I'm in Maine. After all, large lobsters are going for about $5 right now and the cool weather keeps me outside with eyes to the ocean and face to the sun.  

But I did discover something else wonderful. I have D's Ipod, and as I was scrolling through his playlists I  came across this list:

"For R" (That's me.) 

And these are the songs he uploaded during June and left for me to listen to:

Keeper of the Stars

Take My Breath Away

Wind Beneath My WIngs

You Light Up My Life

You're My World

The First Time Ever I saw Your Face

When A Man Loves  a Woman

You'll Never Walk Alone

I Will Always Love You

When You Say Nothing At All

The Very Thought of You

Our Love is Here to Stay

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Didn't We Almost Have It All

The Impossible Dream

(What? No Barry? As in Manilow? Further inspection shows a Manilow playlist...)

I may not have technology all figured out, but I know a perfect gift when I see one. Or hear one. These are the songs he felt represented us. And that is a whole lot of love and blessing that is adding to my healing.

Guess Where I Am?

The rugged coast of Maine!  I arrived here after midnight last night, and awoke to a new world. Sitting on the front porch this morning with coffee, it felt like the perfect fall morning with a continual breeze blowing through the high tree tops. Except it is August!  (I'm not in Kansas...I mean, Texas, anymore.)

My first stop was a Lobster Roll for lunch from a little take-out "joint" that has been serving big hunks of lobster meat on a toasted hot dog bun for 75 years. I decided to eat on the beach and guess what? I HAD TO GET A JACKET FROM THE CAR IT WAS SO COLD! 
This little guy was my constant companion during lunch, ever hopeful I'd drop a scrap for him. The gulls here are the size of small dogs. Makes the seagulls from back home seem lightweight. Maybe everything is not bigger in Texas!

I had to include these beautiful flowers so you can how green and vivid everything is. These were taken in alleyways like the seeds were just scattered as an afterthought. After being in record heat in Texas, in the epicenter of the drought, the cool and green are balm to my eyes and soul. (And for the winters these brave people have to endure in the northeast, they deserve all this beauty.)

As I was walking the coast, I kept thinking about the book "Sarah, Plain and Tall" by Patricia MacLachlan that I read to my class each year. (Yes, the teacher in me is ever present.) In this delightful book, Sarah is a mail order bride at the turn of the (last) century who leaves the cool, green coast of Maine for the hot, drought-stricken prairie of Kansas.  Love kept her there, far from what was comfortable and familiar. She not only adjusted, she eventually thrived.

I'm sure you have beat me to the parallel I'm making in my own life. D and I made this same trip to Maine two summers ago when we knew he was about to have his leg amputated due to complications of cancer. It was kind of our "swan song" at active vacations: a bittersweet but very precious time. We adjusted, and hopefully thrived with the physical adjustments and limitations that followed that surgery. 

I know that former time paved the way for my present journey.  I have been in the school of what the Apostle Paul calls "learning to be content in all circumstances" for many years. I know that my healing will continue in God's timing. Baby steps, big steps, steps backwards, steps forward. But there will be an end to this journey at some point. (Big accountability huddle: if I am still crying and moaning years down the road, I demand a group intervention.)

Surely  the beauty of this place will cause some healing to begin in earnest.

 That and the pound and a half lobster I had for dinner tonight in my warm jacket.

Time Keeps on Slipping into the Future

Most days, I wake up without an alarm around 6 am. I make coffee, read the paper, have my quiet time and go to the gym. I usually stop by the grocery store on the way home for my few hunter/gatherer needs ( I am still in denial that I need food in this house), and I go home. When I walk back in the door, it is usually about 8 am. My  first thought is always, "Now what?"

There is a looooong distance to the horizon of bedtime at night. Thankfully, this week many friends have called to ask me to do something with them. After a lunch out, they usually have a tentative question like, "I have to go pick out some paint colors, would you want to come?" Well, YES. Or someone will call and say, "I'm stopping by Barnes and Nobles before I come by..." and before their sentence is finished I'm inviting myself along for the ride to my favorite bookstore. Filling time.

To my delight (or  regret) I have found that social networking can fill many o'  the hours. Yahoo mail, Facebook and Blogging (both writing and reading them) are good for an unplanned evening. 

TV is just not working for me. My husband was always in charge of The Box, as our remote control was lovingly named. I used to give him a hard time about all the programs he watched that I labeled "autopsy shows". You know, all the CSIs (and Horatio with his bent head), Law and Order and anything that popped up graphic depictions of severed body parts during dinner time. Now that The Box is all mine, I can't think of a thing I want to watch.  I want Melissa to win "The Next Food Network Star" (a fellow Texan!), but I can't really remember when the show is on. I loved the kids on "Jon and Kate", but that is the exact reason I will no longer watch them: I don't want to watch their family and lives fall apart before my eyes. Trust me, as a child of divorce and a mother who went through an unwanted divorce, there is no such thing as "kids are resilient and they will do fine." That is like dropping a bomb in the house and saying no one will be affected by it.  Soapbox safely put away now.

My next mindless diversion is that I'm going to Maine today for  a week. My plan is to take as little as possible with me (no curlers, makeup, jewelry and as few clothes as possible.) Hey: Young Son did six weeks in Costa Rica with one backpack. I was inspired beyond belief  about how little you really have to take to travel and still have a great time. Married Daughter is kind of aghast at my minimal suitcase contents. I think she fears I'll become one of those women who push all their belongings in a grocery cart down the street. I'm not there. Yet.

My goal in Maine is to rest and reflect enough to be ready to re-enter the classroom on August 24. My 18 brand new six-year-old best friends will show up for first grade that day. I want to give them my best effort. I have found in the past years of handing D's cancer that being in the classroom with my students was the best medicine for me. I'm hoping that is going to be the case again.  I am also reminding myself that I always feel restless toward the end of a teaching-less summer: I just do better with more structure.

So, bloggy friends, I'm not sure if I will be posting during the next week or not. I'm taking my laptop, but don't know if the small town I'll be in offers wireless connections. I do want you to know I've appreciated the comments you've left over the past several weeks. The kindness of friends and complete strangers has been a balm to my soul. I no longer believe that social networking is "impersonal".  You've left your handprints on my heart by reaching through your computer screen to where I am. And I will be forever grateful for that.