Midsummer's Day!

Have you ever heard of this book before?

The Twenty-Fourth of June, by Grace S. Richmond.  This was a favorite of my mom's she pulled from her grandfather's bookshelf when she was a girl and she passed along a copy to each of her children in turn.  It is a fantastic little love story with a spunky heroine, cleverly written, and one that I have read repeatedly over the years.  My favorite thing to do is to read it such that I have reached the climax of the book on the literal 24th of June which, if you've read the book, you'll know is none other than Midsummer's Day.  It is a date on which the story hinges.  Delightfully.

I love sharing and asking about others' favorite books of all time.  This is one of mine.  While I find this book charming, funny, and utterly delightful, it has been met with some criticism by those who've borrowed it after learning it was a favorite of mine.  One girl even mockingly reenacted a scene upon its return.  I kind of wanted to snatch the book out of her hands so it couldn't hear her disparaging words.  (Books have feelings, right?)

To be fair, I have read the favorite books of others and wondered, "Really??  This Nicholas Sparks book is your all-time favorite book...ever??"  I hope that despite my own opinions, I have not openly mocked the choice of others in their (and their book's) presence.  Everyone is entitled to their own favorite books.  I wonder what your favorite books say about you. It seems that often my favorite books depict characters with traits I aspire to have and/or who I imagine myself to be deep down without the realities of self-doubt and worry getting in the way.  The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery, The Anne Series, by L.M. Montgomery, The Harry Potter Series, by J.K. Rowling, The Book Thief, by Marcus Zusak, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer, The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas, The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom.  Oh, there are so many more.

I love good books. 

Anyway, today is the 24th of June.  I never fail to think about this particular favorite book of mine on this particular day.  This June, this obnoxious dissertation of mine got in the way of my being able to read it.  When things settle down a bit, perhaps I will go ahead and read it anyhow.  Or, I will wait until next summer when I will, God-willing, have earned this little PhD of mine, presumably have oodles of time on my hands and can enjoy the tale all over again.

If you're interested, check it out.  Please don't judge me too harshly if you find it "ridiculous", "cheesy", or "completely unrealistic" (the words that were used to describe it by the mocker).  I prefer "idyllic", "charming", and "delightful".  

What are your favorites?  Someday (soon, I hope), I will need some new good books to delve into.  I need to start my wish list.

And in the meantime, Happy Midsummer's Day!

On cleaning my mother's bathroom

My mom has multiple sclerosis.  I've learned a lot about MS in the last couple of years since she received her diagnosis.  While the internet has provided a realm of information related to the course of MS, watching her has provided a much more educational witness of its impact.

I have watched as her body begins to withhold its response to her commands.

I have listened to her frustration as her incredible (and infamous) willpower to accomplish anything and everything has no control over a disease that scoffs at determination.

I have marveled as she audibly thanks The Lord every time she drops something on the floor for the privilege of picking it up because, "Thou knowest I would never make myself get down on the floor were it not for picking up this spoon/marble/newspaper."

I have mourned the loss of her meticulous handwriting to a disease that forces wriggles into the loops of her B's and O's.  With every carefully penned note I receive, I can feel the effort it took to override the unforgiving rigidity she faces.

I am trying not to detest this disease that is moving far faster than we had hoped for her. But, so it goes.

For most of my adult life, I have wondered how on earth I could begin to convey the gratitude I feel to her (and my dad) for the teaching/patience/love/time they've so selflessly given to me throughout my life.  I'm not sure I will ever be able to delude myself into thinking I (or anybody) can actually do it.  But, perhaps I've had a glimpse.  Over the holidays, I traveled 1500 miles home to see and be with my family.  My mom has a gift for grit and would be content for us to not know how hard things can be for her.  But, she did not raise stupid children.

My parents have one bathroom in their delightful old house.  It is compact and filled with nooks and corners.  While it is beautiful, quaint and charming, someone with limited mobility and stretch would have difficulty reaching all of its corners.

I spent a morning cleaning that bathroom from top to bottom, just because.  I scrubbed with an intensity I don't often muster in my own household cleaning efforts.  Perhaps it's because I worry about time, not enough of it, in a way I didn't used to.  Perhaps it's because I could see exactly how far back behind the tub/toilet/sink on the linoleum she could reach on her own.  Perhaps it's because I believe that to love is to serve.  I don't know.  All I know is that I would clean 700 bathrooms for her, if I thought she needed it.  I can never repay her for what she has given me.  But, I can clean her bathroom.

(Mom and I, November 2010.  When she nearly gave me a heart attack because she wouldn't take my arm while walking down 100 bleacher steps in the Nebraska football stadium.  Determined, determined woman.  :-)...)