3-10-22 EVERY GRAMMA'S HOUSE SHOULD HAVE ONE OF THESE

If you're a grandmother, or an auntie, or a neighbor-lady, and you want kids to sort-of-want-to be in your world, then I suggest you get a costume box. Any old box will do. Dressers, or plastic bins, or even basement closets work as well, if you have more of a need for order than I do. Such a vessel holds all sorts of possibility for kids, little and big kids. It says, without saying, "I value your ability to pretend." I'm a fan of pretending. I do it even still, though often it's while my head is on my pillow and my eyes are closed. I had a blessed childhood where pretending was encouraged. Well, I imagine that was the case, but I suspect in reality Mom had no idea what was going on down there in the basement. Nowadays you would have to be extra careful NOT to have any sort of screen in the basement, because that kind of pretending can go south really fast. I fear we may be losing the power of physical hands-on pretending, where you use costumes and props. Therefore, I keep a wad of costumes down there in my basement. Long live the innocent world of make-believe!

First, you don't really need full costumes.
A pair of glassless glasses and a plastic wand will work.

And you don't have to be little

There are no rules. Nothing needs to match...
or even fit.

It's amazing what a little snip here and there
with a bit of glue and a baseball hat can do.
Age is not a factor.

Funny how one hat can make it a party!

I've just noticed we use hats a lot at our house. Maybe because they are sort of "one size fits all".

You may have thought a princess crown would
make every day a good one. 
Not so.

Tess came wandering in while I was writing a song.

When we were little, and we had no grandmother or auntie
close by, Libby and I improvised by making princess hats
out of wire hangers and silk scarves.

Tess improvises in the movie theater. That's
"snuzzle", her version of her blankie, which is actually
the swaddle her mom used when she was a baby.

I made teeny-tiny Santa hats and beards
for miniature dinosaurs. 

My son John in my antique top hat.
That's his home-grown beard.

One day Libby and I decided to go to Zurchers
party store around Thanksgiving time.

Libby remains my favorite playmate of all time.

This is one of the party hats we use for every birthday.
We have a variety of them.

Gramma's who cook should also have
 a drawer full of chef hats.

The night John got home from his mission in England, 
our friends Bea and Edo were visiting from France.
Hats and music make instant parties.

I went through a phase where I was personally amused by
plastic flamingoes. I put two of them in a planter in our front yard.
Then I made hats for each holiday.
Here, obviously, it is Springtime, perfect for the wearin'o'the green.

I made these bride and groom hats for a
wedding shower we hosted at our house.

And here we have July... flags and flowers and top hats.

Gracie hardly needed the tinsel and wings
to look like an angel.

And here's Gracie again, rockin' the Jessie hat and chaps.

Vintage hats.
(no pride. no shame.)

Little Cal in a big pirate hat.

Cousins in hats... well, sort of.

Cousins singing Cinderella songs

Cousins prepare for battle

... battle is a recurring theme.

random orange lab coats and
left over graduation caps. Everyone needs these.

And every healthy family needs
a flock of chickens in the kitchen

I sewed these nightgowns for my girls
one Christmas. I was just learning to sew.
Ruby's arms were 12" too long.
Can you tell she wasn't too happy about it?
Sorry, Ru.

On Sunday morning, when you want to create an
Army of Heleman, all you really need is a bunch of
knit fabric from the basement and a pair of scissors.

Walter feels the power instantly.
Costumes can do that.

We made all these costumes for our neighborhood nativity.
Some of them are glued.
I am gifted with glue.

... but I actually stitched this Father Christmas
robe for my brother, John, because... duh,
he looks just like Father Christmas.

... and I made all these Heavenly Choir robes
we use every year for my Christmas concert.
Again --- no stitching, only white sheets,
a pair of pinking shears, and some satin ribbon and
safety pins. Talent abounds!

Ah, yes, remember the years I was addicted to Slurpees?

Joe in a vintage costume I got at a
Michigan garage sale.

When your dad is in charge of the Color Run
your Halloween costumes are especially cool.

when you have a costume box, you
get to be authentic at school stuff

Aunties can't resist little Gnomes.

... and uncles make good backdrops.

All the neighbors and everyone at church
knows who to call when they need costumes

(the Bishopric calls fairly often)

This very freakish but awesome bird mask
always falls out of the game cupboard when I
open the door.

Even 2x4's like to wear costumes

Christmas Eve 

We have many years of this scene preserved
in our cameras and our hearts

I could go on and on, but it's 1 am. Frankly, if you have scrolled down to this point you are either family, or you're not able to get to sleep. (I hope this helped.) I'll just leave it here, with a reminder that sometimes we just need to let go of reality and jump into good, healthy, dress up and pretend-ness to keep our lives balanced.

Ru-la-la

Gram ("Want my sucker?")

3-9-22 THE POWER OF NOTHING

Cal spilled something on his sweatshirt.

“Wear your coat to school instead,” his mom said, but Cal is in a spot right now where everything is magnified, and his coat is too stiff, and the stiff coat triggers some reactions we have been working to overcome. So his mom went to work, because she cannot lose her job, and I drove to her house and gently walked my 10-year-old grandson through the process of agreeing to get in the car and go to the store, buy a sweatshirt, then go to school. That’s a lot of steps to potentially trip on, but we made it through all of them and he is currently in school wearing a new sweatshirt.

There are a lot of aspects of this last couple hours that are beautiful: 

My holy angel nudged me to text my daughter in the wee hours of the morning to see if she needed help because this beautiful little family is living in crisis right now. 

She called me and said, yes, they could use help. 

Cal allowed his brain to be flexible and not fixate. 

Ross Dress for Less opened at 9 am, unlike every other store in the area. 

I had gas in my car, and a car that works. 

I am not working (at any kind of job that gives me a paycheck) and I have a flexible schedule, so I am available to help.

I could go on and on about how many good things I am aware of this morning, and being conscious of them makes me feel the uplifting emotion of gratitude.

After I dropped Calvin at school I texted his mom to tell her he was safely in class. She texted back her thanks, then asked how much the sweatshirt cost so she could Venmo the money to me. I replied, (thankful that I could afford such a reply), “Nothing.”

And I got thinking about the power of Nothing.

Of course, it’s a code word.  “Nothing” is code for, “This is the price of love” or “This is what I do because I respect you, or I have compassion for you, or I feel compelled to help you.”

In Spanish “de nada”, meaning “of nothing”, has evolved into the familiar way of saying you’re welcome. 

If we look closely, we are likely to see our days are chock full of nothings: kindnesses done for us or by us. I think of them as little sparks that twinkle in the universe of our lives, adding more light and positive energy. Acts of goodness, whether they feel kind or not, that enrich the world as a whole and uplift lives one at a time: Bending down to tie someone’s shoe, merging gently on the off ramp, thanking the frustrated clerk at the drive-thu. Opening a door. Unloading the dishwasher, especially without being asked. Returning your shopping cart. Tipping an extra 5%. Offering a little encouragement, either to someone else or yourself. 

I suspect the way we feel about ourselves is dramatically influenced by the nothings we perform. And, I have learned from experience, the giving of nothing is much more powerful than the receiving. 

Next time you perform a little kindness, whisper the word NOTHING to yourself. Those little nothings add up.

I imagine our Lord, whose grace and mercy still makes me quiver, I imagine him exhausted, bloodied, covered in sweat and stained with tears, flesh torn and muscles stretched and his brain hurting from all he was asked to process those last hours in his human form. I imagine him sitting up, folding the shroud that had been placed over his lifeless form, placing it on the stone, moving upward to his foreordained place, then pausing, looking back, and whispering;

“It was nothing.”

That’s the price of love.

"It was nothing"
(It was everything)