Afton Rorvik's Blog, page 17
June 8, 2014
“I just read this great book.”
On my phone I have an ever-growing list of books to read. Some recommendations came from friends, others from my nieces, still others from my brother-in law and sister-in-law. Someday, I’ll start reading and shrinking my list. Well . . . .probably not shrinking the list. Not as long as I’m still talking to people about words and ideas in books.
In my cozy office I’m surrounded by books—my own, my mom’s, and my dad’s. Sometimes I pull out one of their books and discover a bookmark or red underlining with a side note (my dad’s signature style). So interesting to see what they read and pondered, especially since they can no longer tell me themselves.
I have, on occasion, called my books “friends,” When I said that to my husband, he grinned and said, “Who needs that many friends?”
After all the pages I’ve read and reread since I could first recognize words, I return to one book over and over. It gives me courage to face my fears, reminds me that I am deeply loved, helps me find perspective in the midst of life transitions. . . .
I leave you now with three sentences from this favorite book of mine, sentences I have been reading over and over for the past few weeks, “And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God” (Ephesians 3:18–19 in the New Living Translation of the Bible).
June 1, 2014
Friendship Courtesy of My CFO
So . . . I promised you a charming story about my dog. Don’t want to disappoint. If you haven’t yet met my Chief Furry Officer, Ringo, check out the photos on my website under Meet My CFO on the About Afton page.
On to the story . . .
Every morning during the week a text whistles on my phone. Remarkable because I don’t have a long list of people to text, but also remarkable because it happens like clockwork. Usually at 8 or 8:15. Walk? Sometimes I send it; sometimes my neighbor Bev sends it.
If Ringo hears the text whistle at me, he immediately runs to the front door to peer out of it and across the street to where his friend Chase lives with my friend Bev.
And then the Chase-alarm begins—a unique mix of whine and bark. All to say, “My buddy! Ready? Ready! Let’s go!!!!”
So the boys drag us out our respective doors, often to the middle of our street. Then they give each other a doggie high-five, sometimes a double-pawed high-five. Five seconds later they dash off to begin their peeing competition.
As the boys meander (as opposed to briskly walking), Bev and I laugh at their antics and talk over what the day ahead holds. Ten or fifteen minutes of fresh air, occasional vitamin D, laughter, and conversation. What a way to start the morning!
When we reach home again, we promise to meet again tomorrow morning. Chase plants himself on his lawn until we get safely across the street and into our front door. (Does he think we’ll get lost or maimed on the way home?!)
Bev and I hang on to these meanders just as much as our furry boys do. Starting the day with a friend every day . . . what joy! (Maybe Bev and I should start doing a fist bump or something. Hmm. . . . )
How do you make time to hang on to friends?
May 25, 2014
A Legacy of Kindness
This day, this federal holiday, we set ourselves to remember. We remember those who died serving our country, we visit graves and leave flowers, and we speak of those we loved.
I just returned from a weekend of remembering.
In a small New England church packed to overflowing, we celebrated the life of a remarkable man—my great uncle, Allen Raymond.
So what made him remarkable?
Certainly his civic contributions to Westport and beyond, his tenacious building of the magazine Teaching K-8, raising five thoughtful, creative children, living an open-door life of hospitality. . . .
And then countless, quiet, one-on-one acts of kindness. I have to tell you about one.
On Sunday, the day after the memorial service, my first cousin, once removed (that’s a mouthful!) invited us to the cottage on Long Island Sound—my great uncle’s summer home and happy place. John and I pulled into a public lot and said to the parking attendant, “We’re visiting relatives at the cottage of Allen Raymond and wonder where we can park.”
“Allen Raymond? You know Allen Raymond? He is my sweetheart. Just pull around and park here. No charge.”
When John asked how she knew my great uncle, she said simply, “He talked to me. Who talks to a parking attendant? He talked to me.”
As we walked toward the cottage, I prayed silently, “Oh, Lord, always remind me of this day, of my great-uncle. Let me never forget to take the time to notice others and to give the gift of a kind word.”
How thankful I am to have known Allen Raymond and to have celebrated a life well-lived. As the Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 1:3, “I thank my God every time I remember you.”
May 18, 2014
The Gift of Encouragement
In my sunny blue office, I have a little vignette sitting on my filing cabinet—a pitcher and two tea cups. I see it every day before I sit to write. And I remember the giver of this gift—Helen deVette.
She loved that word vignette. She loved talking about words and books. And she loved talking about her Heavenly Father.
I knew her first in college as my professor. But long after college I found myself drawn to her green house a few blocks away for an afternoon of word-talk and large doses of encouragement.
The day she gave me the tea set, I felt overwhelmed and tried to refuse it. “Oh, no. This is yours.” She insisted, “This is for you.” With her eyes on an imminent trip to heaven, she knew that the things she had in this world would not travel with her to eternity.
And so I have tea set out on my filing cabinet. It waits for me every day. It speaks to me silently, just as my friend would have spoken audibly: “Keep writing. I believe in you”
How has a gift from a friend brought you encouragement?
May 11, 2014
Cherished Homemade Cards
I save things, especially cards. I have a big box in my closet.
No disrespect, Hallmark, but my favorite cards feature marker, pen, and crayon drawings on plain white paper.
In one my then young son declared, “Thanks for bending over backwards for me!” with illustrations of all the things that mattered to him at the time. On the back he wrote in small letters: “A better than Halmark creaton.”
And in another homemade card, my just-learned-to-write-cursive daughter listed ten things that I did for her, including: “You find all of my missing things,” and “You snug.” On the back she scribbled: “UR 2 good 2 B forgot10.”
I wonder, if Mother’s Day had never made the cut to become an official calendar holiday, would we still celebrate our mothers? Would I still have received these delightful cards?
Mother’s Day reminds us to make an effort, to do some act of kindness, to convey our thanks to our mothers. I smile with joy that my children made the effort—and still do.
Let us do the same in our friendships.
What do you think?
