Woodford Reserve, Versailles, Kentucky

It is nice to be able to enjoy the beautiful Kentucky "Fall-like" weather after being cooped up for over a year.  This week marks five months since my last and hopefully final surgery and Ian and I celebrated with a trip to the Woodford Reserve.  Grateful for this season in our lives, good health, family, and the ability to enjoy the splendor of the out of doors.

My Nest is Not Empty…..

As I start my “official”day two of what the world calls “an empty nest”, I am realizing that it is really just “what’s next”.  

Sure, the view out my master bedroom door is dramatically changed.  Where “dark shades” once hung to ensure optimal Xbox and tv viewing darkness, there is bright sunlight.  Where the gentle snoring on a sunrise Sunday morning could once be heard, there is now a definite quiet, hush….stillness.

The children’s bathroom, which once housed a myriad of men-child razors and girl-child hairbrushes all strewn about the sink is now clean so that even you might be willing to use it.

The smell down the hall to my children’s bedrooms has changed from Madison’s current perfume, the boy’s Axe shampoo, and shaving cream to that of Tide laundry detergent and Downy softener.

This is all expected.   

My own Mama prepared me for this day just as her Mama prepared her.

I have been a Mama for exactly 9,267 days, but who is counting?

Well,

………I am

To be the mother to Madison E J McKenzie, Kenton P L McKenzie, Joseph M S McKenzie, and Johnson R L McKenzie has to be one of the greatest blessings of my life

I believe I was called to be a Mama

That does not mean that I am a perfect Mama, in fact, I and they know I am not

That does not mean I will cherish every day of their life as I should, I know I have not

That does not mean I won’t make mistakes, I know I have

That does not mean my heart was always in the perfect “Mama” mode, for clearly, is has not been

But, what it does mean

Is that I have been bestowed one of the greatest blessings…gifts…tender mercies God can bestow

That of Motherhood

And, that is a gift that does not stop the moment my children fly the coop

In fact, I am sharply aware that my children need me more now than they ever have

To be a solid foundation of reliability, peaceful presence, faithful listening ear

To be a sounding board, a constant texter, and a long-distance moral compass

I am pretty certain if you ask my children what their Mama will be doing at 10pm each night, they will say “texting me Night ILY”

And, so far, they each respond in kind, “Night ILY2”

It’s not a big thing

It’s a huge thing which matters as they head out on their own.   

This confidence they can have in the knowing that their mother is just a text away, faithfully praying for their “smart decisions” and good behavior.  Their safety and ability to make friends.  Their doing well and well-doing.

The knowing that as long as I take a breath on this earth, I will be doing so with their names on my heart

I don’t know this because I am some sage and wise woman, or because they have taken the time to tell me how important all of this is.   

I don’t even know this because I think they like it all the time…

I know it because as much as I am and love being a Mama, I love knowing that my own Mama is doing the same for me wherever she may be….

And, I have witnessed up close and personal my Mama preparing each of her children for this flight out of her nest….

She made sure I knew she was that reliable force back home using all of her Motherly gifts (and, there are many) to grow in me a confidence that no matter what, she would always be there for me be in in person, coming toward me, or in prayer

That no one loves me like she does….never has, never will

And, that has made all the difference in my life

And, I believe it will do the same for my children

So, I don’t really feel like an “empty nester”….but rather, much more do I believe I am a

“what’s next-er?”

I am not certain….really, only God knows

But, what I do know for today is that if I can give proof to my children that next to God, their mother will stand beside them, in front of them, behind them when they are in her presence

And, even when they are not in her presence

If I can give them the confidence that where they go, so do my prayers, my thoughts, my love

That while they are spreading their wings,

I am holding down the foundation of their roots…..

Then, this empty next is really

What’s Next?

And, that will make all of the difference.

Blessings,

Lesa

PS.  I do advise, however, that it might not be wise to mess with them....:)

Visiting Duncan

Several months back, during a brief interlude from the pain and fatigue of my years' worth of surgeries, my husband invited me to go feed a baby lamb.  The little fellow's mom had not taken to him so his owners, Fabian and Robin Bernal, were bottle-feeding him.  

Ian, as Ian is known to do, was sensitive to my lagging spirit and knew that getting out of doors would be healthy for my body and that getting to feed a cute, little lamb would be healthy for my spirit.

And, he was right.

After an hour-long preparation (it took me that long to get ready) for the trip, we finally seated ourselves for the short journey to Colibri Sheep Farm here in Scott County.

"Duncan" was everything I could have hoped for….lively, quick, jumping up and down…he was a delight to behold and an ever-remembered-with-laughter bold bundle of joy to feed.

Robin had had to feed him a little prior to our arriving so by the time we got there, he was still "bouncy" but a little more settled so I could handle him.  They fed him from a homemade bottle right there on their living room on the floor where he took turns drinking and frolicking.

Medicine to the soul it was….

Duncan's little bleating's were precious to hear and his little trips to feed from the bottle were some of the cutest animal moments I have experienced…

It was joyful

So, when Ian got word from Fabian that Duncan was going to "leave" the farm in this month, of course I said I wanted to go to visit him before he left.  So, we did.

Now, it’s a sad but hard truth that owners of sheep farms will likely, eventually, take their once-small lambs-turned sheep to "the market".  It's a fact of life I learned early while living on my parent's cattle farm, and one I understood clearly, from Duncan's owners.

It is the circle of life.

So, it was with that knowledge tucked in my pocket that I headed out with camera to take some pictures of Duncan and his friends…

No, he didn't remember me.  Yes, he had grown from a cute little lamb into a handsome sheep.

No, he didn't come when I called his name but yes, he was fond enough to his owner to give Fabian a kiss.

What I love about Fabian and Robin and their Colibri Sheep farm is their careful attention to their farm animals.  They understand the nature of their business, and yet, they have a genuine care and love for the animals they raise.  Ian and I are confident that theirs will be a sheep farm which, as it grows and matures, will be around for a long time.  Their blending of their personal expertise with their personal dreams is a great combination and we look forward to watching them grow and expand providing quality lamb to those who would hope to enjoy.

There is just something about a little lamb which does the heart good….

Blessings,

Lesa

A Mother's Legacy….Dorothy Jane Maegerlein Young

When I knew Ian's mother, she was always Mrs. Young or Mrs. Dorothy….never Dorothy or Mom.  And, that's because my years around Mrs. Young were as a young, impressionable girl who looked up to, admired, and frankly, was a little frightened of the elegant, imposing woman.

My memories of her were mostly from church, watching her from across the pew.  I do remember a time of twirling her wedding ring which I now wear on my right hand…wearing it with humble, quiet honor.  I wish I could remember how young I was when I twirled her ring, but I do remember her glancing down with a smile and then, eventually, putting her hand over mine so that I was still.  Twirling could only last so long when you were supposed to be paying attention to the sermon.

She was a strong woman, slight of frame, but large of personhood.  And, she had to be.  She was one of those women I read about in college who forged the "breaking of the glass ceiling" for all of us who would come after her.  She was of that lost generation where dignity, modesty, and self-control were staples in their lives and were what made them internally and eternally lovely. 

She worked as the administrative assistant a/k/a secretary for the "full bird" Colonel on base at Fort Knox and, as Ian tells it, "if you wanted to get close to the General, you had to speak first with Mrs. Young."  

When I think of Mrs. Young, I think of business suits, hats, gloves, and a perfectly made up coiffure and face.  She was the only rose among two "thorns" in her home and I think both of the men in her home would agree that she was its heart and centerpiece.

She began to mean more to me when I started crushing on her only son, Ian, as a young thirteen year old.  I had to pay more attention to her because she most definitely paid close attention to him. 

I remember one time, our youth group went to his home after Sunday evening church.  We kids arrived at the Young's home prior to any of the adults and we all went down to his family room.  Ian called me over to sit on his knee because all the other chairs were taken.  When Mrs. Young arrived home, it was pretty clear from her expression that she was not happy to see me sitting on his knee and she called me over to her and said, "Lesa, polite young girls do not sit on the knees of young boys."  I felt pretty lowly….and remember being both embarrassed and angry at the same time (HE was the one who told me to sit there), but I realize now, she wanted me to have high standards and to be a lady.  Ian told me that later that evening when we had all gone home that she scolded him, too, letting him know that I was young, impressionable, and crushing on him and that he should not take advantage.

 

Ian is five years older than I and his mother seemed to feel the weight of that age difference in ways Ian and I could not then, but now, understand.  

Ian and I have often talked about the "what ifs" and "how sweet it would have been" and "my Mama would have loved having you for a daughter in law" and "you and Mama have so much in common"….and, it could be sad if we dwelled on that part of our story.

But, instead, we choose to remember the joyful….the times that she seemed delighted when we dropped by their home on our way home from a date, or the time Herschell, Ian and I went to the Ky Fairgrounds to a big Yard Sale and the time Dorothy told Ian not to peel out of the church parking lot with me in the car which, of course, just encouraged him to do just that.

Now, as Ian's wife, I feel like I am getting to know Mrs. Young, Dorothy, Mom all over again.  These years since Ian and I have been married, we have spent several evenings going through her treasures….and, she has many…at least they are treasures to me. 

She was a woman who loved beautiful things…you can tell by what she collected during her lifetime.  But, more important than the things are the ties….the memories attached to them.  It is as if each item she has ever purchased was chosen for a special purpose….a special memory….a special person.

And, even more importantly, she left these sweet, hand-written notes which describe the particulars of so many of her things -  when she bought it, where she got it, who wore it, owned it, loved it previously.  She prepared so many of her treasures so that they would one day be enjoyed by those who came after her, and I am grateful.  

Each quilt we open, each gift from Japan we unfold, each box of photos we find, Ian and I are blessed with his Mama's presence in our lives.  We were talking last night as I put on one of the Japanese outfits she had stored in her oriental chest how we could almost feel her presence in the room  with us….it brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart to watch Ian watching me enjoying opening his Mama's things.

"Mama loved you already as a young girl, but she would have adored having you for her daughter in law," he said.

And, I her.

I am grateful for Mom Young because that same discipline, kindness, compassion she had for those in her life can be found in her son.  That same appreciation for things beautiful, for the importance of understanding, "if it's important to you, it's important to me" can be seen in my daily living with Ian.  That genuine legacy of the importance of family, the value of honor, and the insistence on respect are the foundations for the heart she grew in my husband.

So, regardless of what I was enabled to call this woman….Mrs. Young, Mrs. Dorothy, Dorothy….or Mom, she was a beautiful woman who prepared for me her greatest treasure….that of her son, Ian.  

And, for that, I am eternally Eucharisto….Thankful,

Blessings,

Lesa