Amy's Hotel List

I ran across some items recently that I had stored away for many years. It reminded me of how important my relationship with my nieces has always been in my life.

As a rule, I wan't overly sentimental about leaving my family and returning to wherever I was living overseas at any given time. My mind was already on the airplane, thinking of the stops I had to make, and when I could relax and get back to "my real life."

But I have to admit that it was always somewhat difficult to leave my nieces behind. They had me at my heartstrings sometimes.

The first memento I found was "Amy's Hotel List."

"Aunt Amy, why d' ya haf' to keep going away all the time? I miss you." This, from honey-haired Rachel. She was seated cross-legged on my bed watching me finish pack. She fidgeted with some little purse I'd given her from Guatemala.

"Ya, Aunt Amy. You're s'possed t' live here! We like it when you read books to us 'n' stuff," Emily chimed in. She frowned at me, accusingly.

I sighed. "You know, guys, what about if you come over to the house ... maybe on Friday or Saturday night to visit Grandma and Grandpa, and then sleep in my room? There are two beds here, one for each of you!"

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Can we really?"

"Sure, and ... uh, it'll be just like a hotel...whenever I go to a hotel, I have to write my name and all kinds of information!" I added, ad-libbing as I went along. "It'll be like you are traveling too."

"Ya, that'll be fun!" Rachel shouted.

"No, it won't. Aunt Amy won't be here! She'll be ... I can't 'member where you're goin'..." Emily looked as if she might burst into tears.

"It will be lotsa fun. You'll have to sign in and write the date you stayed, and say what you thought of your stay. I do that when I travel. We can sit down and talk about it when I come home again. That'll help you remember. And to pay for staying over night, you'll have to help grandma with the dishes or make the beds. Or maybe grandpa, you can help him do some fun jobs!" I said encouragingly.

"Like plant some stuff, or pick strawberries!" added Rachel, already imagining the fun she'd have. "Maybe he'll give us a ride in his old truck!"

"That's not work!" Emily scoffed, "but I guess so...okay, it's a deal. But what if I want to stay and Rachel doesn't? Or what if our dad doesn't let her 'cause she does something bad?" Emily always thought everything out. She was a very practical young girl.

"I wanna stay, too. I'm allowed, can't I, Aunt Amy?"

"Yep, you can both stay but ya gotta sign the list. An' ya gotta be good and help grandma."

They agreed and we made the list right then and there. We taped it to my desk blotter and got it ready for their first visit.

"Hmm. Remember just write your first name."

"C'mon girls," their mother called upstairs to us, "Daddy's ready to go now."

"Bye, Aunt Amy" they chorused, and hugged me tightly. Then they ran to tell their mom about the hotel list and our agreement.

Now as I look at the list, a lump forms in my throat. I put it back next to the construction paper ice cream cones they made for me one time when I left. It has their good-byes written in childish print. I place that on the chalkboard with a set of school photos, glued to it and the message "To Aunt Amy: World's Best Aunt" written in glitter-glue.

I find that I'm getting emotional; the tears are coming as I write.

I guess when you cultivate a relationship, it becomes such a big part of you that even the moments of separation become mementos of your life.

Though I was gone so frequently, I nurtured our relationship through letters with word pictures and stick-figures of the people I met. I punctuated my letters with funny stories and sent cassettes for them to listen to for nights when they stayed "in the hotel." I bought them typical dolls from everywhere I traveled. They consisted of straw, felt, clay, rope, cloth, cones ... you get the picture. The most basic elements. I sent them traditional clothing of some of the countries I lived in and explained what the styles and colors meant. I taught them to look into their hearts and reach out to those who have different lifestyles and languages. So, while leaving them was always difficult, I shared as much of my foreign life with them as I could back then.

When I was pregnant, I dreamed of having daughters just like Rachel and Emily. When God took my twins to heaven, He lovingly reminded me of the connection that I still had with these two precious nieces who had grown up in my shadow - and that comforted me. Now when I spend time, and observe them nurture their own families, my heart overflows with gratitude and love for the women they've become.

They have both done some overseas mission work, and I like to think I opened their hearts just a little bit to doing that through my own love for missions and life abroad.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for teaching me how to nurture this relationship throughout all the separations, and reunions. Thank you for loving me enough to allow my life to be enriched by them. Thank you for allowing them to step in and fill the place my twin daughters would have taken up in my life had they lived. I'm so grateful, Father, for your etermal provisions.

A Platter of His Fruits

Faith Savors God's Fruits in His Presence

Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Ephesians 5:19-20 NIV

Fresh off a bus in Ft. William, Scotland, I looked just like I felt: cold, bedraggled, soaked and lost! Due to a golf tournament in the area, everything was booked up. Finally, I checked out the last hostel on my list.

“Sorry, we’re full up,” the clerk said. After a look at my distraught face, she pulled her rolodex over and flipped through it, “H’lo Conn'lly, I’ve got a young girl here—more apt to be called a drowned rat—at her wit’s end. Can you fit her in there? You can?! Great? No, she doesn’t mind walking a fair distance a-tall.” she added tongue-in-cheek.

Hey, speak for yourself! I'm a little bit tired of being cold and wet, and not knowing where to go and now I have go back out in that downpour, find a new bus stop, get off, walk AGAIN a 'a fair distance' so I can find a warm place to change my clothes and sleep?! Aaagghhh! Grumble! Grumble! Grumble!

Finally at my destination, I rang the bell and waited for such a long time only to hear these harsh words, “Don’t stand out in the rain. Are you daft!” After checking in, I trudged through the dark hallways leaving wet footprints behind in my stocking feet (Foot and Mouth Disease) to the only remaining bunk in what seemed to be a co-ed dorm. I hung up my raincoat. Water dripped down it and formed a pool below on the floor. I quickly changed clothes! Ah! Warm at last!

My stomach rumbled but all the hostel sold on its premises was Oreo cookies, and candy bars. Others had brought their own food. Definitely not one of my better traveling days! Grumble! Grumble! Grumble! Sound familiar? Anything like the Israelites complaining about the manna as they wandered through the desert for forty years?

Later that evening, a loose ends, I wandered back outdoors. I found myself in the glen of Mt. Nevis, the highest mountain in Scotland. I perched atop a picnic table and drank in God's presence. What grandeur! “No matter how much we elevate ourselves, we are still in the valley of His greatness!" I felt small and close to God, in the palm of His hand as I was in the palm of that mountain. A song came to mind: Creation is Awaiting.

What I can remember of it now goes:

Creation is awaiting the return of the King.
The trees are poised to clasp their hands for joy,
The mountains stand majestic to salute their God;
The desert lies in wait to burst into bloom...

Ceation is awaiting, the world is awaiting the return of the King
The earth is a footstool for his feet,
Every knee will bow down, every tongue confess
That Jesus Christ is Lord of Heaven and Earth....

God spoke to me through a small ray of sun that stole over me for a short time as I sat there. I noticed that when I moved out of a certain spot, the sun left me. Isn't that the same with us in life? If we are leaning toward the Son, God touches with it. If our priorities get lost in the shadows of all the things that threaten to envelop us, then we are not reaching towards God and it can get real cold fast.

God doesn’t always send us a blazing sunny day but He always provides enough heat to get us though the day.

He sends us sweatshirts and raincoats with hoods to ward off the chill. He sends people who take pity on drowned rats, and buses to carry them to dry rooms. Then when they get peeved because the food isn’t what they expect, He invites them to a picnic table to slowly enjoy a platter of His own fruits - to savor and reflect. He even sends Himself to keep them company! No wonder creation is awaiting God...

What a joy to welcome the One who welcomes us in spite of our grumbling hearts!

Application: Lord, let me remember to thank You for your hidden blessings, even when I'm out of sorts.

The Ballad of Loch Lomond: Steeped in ‘Mist’ery

Yesterday I was in my Colombian mood; today, I've been thinking of Scotland. This is an article I wrote for a travel magazine awhile back. I researched it, and sent it off (but haven't heard anything back yet). Hope you enjoy it and learn something in the process! Any feedback is appreciated!:)


The Ballad of Loch Lomond: Steeped in 'Mist'ery

O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.

A drizzly mist often prevents visitors from seeing those "bonnie, bonnie banks" of Scotland's Loch Lomond clearly. In the same way, a number of different stories purported to explain the famous folksong's origin maykeep the truth shrouded in mystery forever.

You probably think you’ve never heard of lyrics of “The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond,” some of which are shown above. But no doubt, you’re familiar with at least the chorus. However, if you don’t know what the song’s about, you’re probably not alone. That may be because of the unfamiliar Gaelic words thrown in or perhaps it’s that people have different interpretations of it.

In order to better grasp the meaning, it’s important to understand some basic facts about the Scottish. They revel in tales of their rich history, romanticize their beautiful landscapes, brood over their unyielding fates and rejoice over love.

It’s said this song was written by, about, or to a captured soldier during the failed Jacobite Rebellion in 1745.

Some believe an unknown soldier imprisoned in Carlisle, across the border in England, for his part in the alleged uprising wrote the song to his sweetheart. Sentenced to hang the next morning, he supposedly sang it to bid farewell to his beloved whom he would never see again. The song embraces the youthful pastimes they shared along the lake bank, and where they parted ways.

In my mind’s eye, I could picture the pair – she, fair-skinned with flowing red hair and a crown of flowers gracing it, wearing a loose-fitting dress and running barefoot. He would have a sand-tousled head of hair, a home-spun button-down shirt and pants, also barefoot. He’d be chasing her to the water’s edge and catch her in an embrace. The sun would shine down on them as they fell together in the shade of the highland trees near the edge of the lake. I imagined his regret as he recalled those lost moments while facing his certain fate the next morning. Wouldn’t the song tug at your heart?

Others believe the song came about as words probably sung by the Jacabean prisoner’s sweetheart, “Moira” back in Scotland. The belief is that the prisoner’s ghost had visited Moira in a dream and they had wandered along the moors of Loch Lomond as they used to do as young lovers. It’s said that through this dream, Moira realized she would never see the soldier again.

Along similar lines, some believe that upon his death, the warrior’s spirit was released and would be waiting for her on Loch Lomond, where they first fell in love.

The suggestion of ghosts is popular in Scotland, where whole tours take place to visit “haunts.” Wandering spirits lend credence to the idea that messages are carried to people whom they would not see again in their lifetime. So, the belief that the prisoner’s fate is relayed through the dream is readily accepted. Likewise, the idea that a spirit will go to where he / she felt happiest during their lifetime is a popular concept in Scotland.

Still others believe the lyrics suggest the sweetheart of the Jacobean prisoner had traveled all the way to Carlisle on foot to say good-bye to her lover, catch a final glimpse of his face, and beg in the slim hope of securing his release. If not, she would stay to witness his death. The “low” road is said to mean the grave for the prisoner while the “high” road refers to the girl’s return home to Scotland over land.

If you ask other Scots, they will tell you it’s commonly believed that the song represents the friendship between two soldiers. According to the story, one of the soldiers was to be executed and the other, released. As legend has it, the spirit of the dead soldier traveling by the “low” would reach Scotland before his comrade, who would be making his way back over the rough Scottish highland on foot. Spirits apparently travel faster than those in the physical world, hence, the line “I’ll be in Scotland a’fore ye.’”

When you first hear this song, it seems it’s just a very popular, romantic love song set in the midst of a beautiful Scottish landscape. But the song gives us clues there’s more to it than lochs, high and low roads, getting someplace before someone else. Something larger than that is happening. The lyrics bring out deeper themes embedded within —death, parting, loss, principles, courage, friendship, loyalty, ghosts and spirits.

Which story is the real one? No one is any wiser today than centuries earlier. Myths and legends continue to surround this tale like the misty waters that gather around Loch Lomond. Historians can make their predictions, do their research, but the interpretation is still up to the listener and to the many Scots who proudly sing its lyrics and embrace it with their strong cultural heritage.

Louis Hannah: The Traveler

Louis Hanna was a local hero; he was rumored to be the oldest working living firefighter at age 97. Louis meant a lot of things to the townspeople where we lived. He was a characater about town, well-respected and loved by all. To me, he was a traveler and storyteller, the very best kind of person to know.

We met one summer after my mom had a car accident. She drove through a double brick wall and dislodged a pop machine in the center of town (this is worthy of another story altogether!) and he was directing traffic on Main Street that day. Unbelieveably, my mom exited her totaled car without a break, a bruise or even a scratch! She simply fell asleep at the wheel, or so her doctor said. She drove through town asleep. Louis took his job of directing traffic seriously but got bored after awhile, so went over and snapped a shot of the damaged car. The day he met me, he delivered the photo to our home. (I don't think my mother ever fully appreciated this gesture as seeing her car in that condition upset her).

Louis found out I had traveled quite a bit, and he began to talk about his foray into India during World War II. That day I was smitten by the adventure and daring of Louis Hannah, or "Snapper" as he was fondly called. At 93 or 94, his eyes still expressed the excitement of the moments he disobeyed his commanding officer and went out in the villages.

This was the beginning of a great friendship. He never forgot to look me up when I got in town and take me to some of his favorite places, including a renovated ship called Flagship Niagara. The ship was used during the war of 1812. He served as a hand on it at age 85 or 86 for a seven months. Even though he was the crew's favorite, he insisted on doing more than his fair share of hte work. At my insistence, he showed me some award he got for that tour of duty. "Ain't nothing much." The men meant the world to him.

"Snapper, can I write your book?"

"Someday I will give you a run down on some of my life, which I'd like to compare with yours as you sure seem to get around a lot in different parts of the world that I have not been in yet."

I had to pin him down but we finally started the interview process when he realized that I was serious. I tape recorded some of his stories and he also wrote letters annotating his memories on an archaic typewriter. He brought out some very old pictures, which I still have.

Louis and I didn't finish his book but he has a very special place in my heart. I would like to do some fresh anecdotal research and finish it off one day soon. Our town deserves to read the rich story that made up his life--the travels he was so proud of, his years in the military, his thirty years as firechief, and his continued service, his time on the ship, and his years on his Harley, late in life...! Snapper lived an unforgettable life of adventure but he never forgot his manners along the way!