Uncommon sanctuaries

Some children grow up spending most of their leisure time with siblings or cousins or next door neighbor kids.  

I did not.  No siblings even close to my age made me a bit of an only child.  Ditto cousins.  I had a couple very good friends, but play time wasn't all that frequent. 

My dad was my fishing buddy and my favorite person to spend leisure time with.  But of course time with him was limited because he had that pesky 40+ hour/week job thing going on.  

My mom also had that pesky full time employment scene happening from the time I was eight years old.  

Which left me with a lot of time at home while they were working.  This was back in the day when television was black and white and limited to whatever station would come in via roof antenna.  Never more than three stations, usually just one, and always a snowy reception.  

During times when I was particularly bored or frustrated, I'd call my mom at work.  I can still tell you what that phone number was.  EX2-2919.  I called it a lot.   "Mom, what can I do?"  Mom was always busy at work and she would advise me to bake some cookies or play the piano.  

Clearly, clearly, I baked a lot of cookies.  And ate them. 

But more often I sat at the piano.  The piano became my friend, my refuge, my port in the storm, my place to go when life threw chaos at me.  My 20-something sister, Sharon, with her little girl mind and special needs was always there with me.  At times she had rather intense moments of challenges and struggles, and her struggles became mine.  

And.....I found out that sitting at that old upright piano with my hands on the keys made the world I lived in a little more tolerable.  As I sat there my eyes saw the wooden upright portion of the piano, with the reflection of my chubby little cookie-fed face faintly visible in the polished wood.  I could look at the family pictures decorating the top of the piano.  My ears heard my hands play melodies and it didn't matter that those melodies weren't perfect.  I could play tunes over and over, as long as it took to make them sound right to my little girl ears.    My piano took me away.  Far away to a land where God created music.  And He shared that music with me.  He taught me.  

Sitting at that piano I believe God connected with me in a way that helped me cope with the chaos around me.  And eventually the music became pleasant enough to help my sister Sharon find some calmness  also.  He gave me a gift that would help both of us through the chaos. 

Which leads me to be grateful for not only the gift of music,  but also the chaos.  Without the chaos, would I have the gift?  

I'm not a little girl anymore.  But the piano is still my sanctuary.  The place where God can meet me and surround me with His presence.  His calming, soothing, loving presence.  

Do you have a sanctuary?   Sitting at a sewing machine creating handmade treasures?  Using a paintbrush to create a picture? (Painting is Sharon's sanctuary!!)  Casting a fishing line into a body of water?   Hiking through the woods?  Working with lumber to build beautiful treasures?  Shooting basketballs through the net?  Singing in your car while you're just out for a drive?   The possibilities are endless. Wherever God meets you can be a sanctuary.  If you'll reach out for Him, He's there waiting.  

Even in unlikely places.  Even when you're up to your ears in chaos.  

You need a sanctuary. Life is so much better with a hiding place. 

"The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing."  Zephaniah 3:17

It would be a few years before this little girl needed a sanctuary

Me and my piano.....best friends forever

2013  

Blessed by simplicity.

Someone really special will be celebrating her 80th birthday this month.  

She was born January 27 in 1938, my parents' first baby.  Sharon Kay.   

Nothing about this baby girl's life would be as dreamed by her mommy and daddy.  Starting with the day of her birth.  So many questions and concerns.  So many fears for my mom and dad.

She survived. And she was very very beautiful.  And very very loved.    

In 1938, living on a small  rural Kansas farm, children attended one room schoolhouses.  My three sisters attended a one room school not far from their little home.  

But Sharon wasn't able to learn the same way as her two sisters.  Or like anyone else in the little one room schoolhouse.  I wasn't there at the time, but knowing her, I would imagine she was a bit on the hyperactive side, too.  

Attempts to help her were discouraging and frustrating.  Especially for our mother and father.  She was allowed to be part of the school until my family moved from the farm to town in 1952.  A teenager.  Her intellect had ceased to develop around age 9.  

Tell her your birthday once and she'll remember it forever.  And every now and then she can wow me with some random bit of knowledge that leaves me speechless.  "Where did you learn that, Sharon?"  Play cards with her and you'll likely lose.  And she has an uncanny ability to paint pictures, especially roses.  She has her own unique little skillset.  

In 1938, in very rural Kansas and perhaps anywhere else, there wasn't a word to define Sharon's condition.  Just the "R" word. Not a happy word, with a lot of stigma attached.  

Stigma, and sadness.  Especially as the years passed and there wasn't any way to help her.  She would be Mom and Dad's little girl for the rest of their lives.

After they passed away she would live separated from her family, with her three sisters involved in her life from a distance.    

In this current day and age there is so much more help and hope for children like Sharon.  No more "R" word.  It's been replaced by kinder words that define and diagnose and explain why. I can think of a word that starts with "A" that may very well apply to my Sharon.  There are now so many ways of early intervention, using different approaches and treatments with great success, giving opportunities for fulfilling lives.  

I often wonder how different Sharon's life would be had she been born several decades later.  

But she wasn't.   

While her sisters all grew up, left home and went on to have families and careers, Sharon did not.  She wanted to, and she would often say "I wonder when I'll finally get married and have a family."  

She would say it often, OFTEN, and every single time I would feel a stabbing pang of guilt because I possessed something my sister Sharon could never have.  My dreams weren't that different from Sharon's.  Except mine came true.  And hers couldn't.   I can't think about that without getting teary.  

Her little girl ways endured, even up to this very day really.  And seriously, there's something beautiful about child-like simplicity.  

Sharon personifies simplicity.  Give her a cup of coffee "Make that decaf please", take her shopping or to a garage sale "Look what I bought!!", play a game of cards with her  "Shall we get into a Pitch deck?"..... that's about all it takes to make her happy.  

Especially, especially, if she's with her family.  Her sisters.  And her "brothers".  (Never would she ever refer to any of our husbands as in-laws).  Her nieces and nephews couldn't have a more adoring aunt.  

She loves us all, and she's not afraid to say so.  Accompanied by a very warm hug.  

Later on this month we are going to celebrate our Sharon.  We shall pick her up at her group home where she is wonderfully cared for by skilled staff.  We shall surprise her with a party filled with family, food, fun.  And red roses.  Her favorite.  Rose of Sharon.  That's what she'll call them.  

She will smile, she will laugh loudly, she will talk happily to everyone at her party. 

I think if you lined up every member of her family and assessed who had  made the most of the tools they'd been given...... Sharon would win.  

Happy birthday, my dear Sharon.  I love you.  

 Sharon and I, 1955.  She was such a beautiful young girl.

Sharon, by Ottawa Co Lake, not far from where she spent her childhood on the farm.