Joy in the Birthday Present

This week I told my son Nicholas (in the very first of what I hope will be a series of Skype conversations) that I would soon be entering the last year of my fifth decade. Not surprisingly within just a few seconds, Dr. Nick, PhD, said, “Mom, you’re almost at the end of your SIXTH decade!” Oh, my! Now I really feel old! LOL!

Before getting myself all bogged down in muddy old age laments, I had a little visit with King Solomon (via Day 5 of my Bible study lesson).

“After looking at the way things are on this earth, here’s what I’ve decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that’s about it. That’s the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what’s given and delighting in the work. It’s God’s gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now. It’s useless to brood over how long we might live.” (Ecclesiastes 5:18-20, The Message)

Thanks, Wise Solly! Opening up to the joy God gives in the present—I like that. Skype conversations with family are definitely some of those joys!

I was also happy to open the present—I mean, the box marked Priority Mail—that arrived on my door step a couple weeks ago. Doesn’t take fancy gift paper and ribbons to make my heart go pitty pat. I knew it was coming. My sister told me so. She and Mom shopped together for my birthday presents and put them in the mail early. And there was no way I was going to wait until November third to open it!

The box revealed a scarf from Mom, a pashmina from my sister, and THE HAT! I’d seen pictures of the hat, my sister modeled it for me in one of our Skype sessions, making me drool, and now it has come home to mama.

My mom included a Starbucks card with the scarf. 

Hubby and I love old town Orange; a perfect spot for a birthday date a few weeks early. It is totally fitting that my birthday coincides with the season of pumpkin spice lattes! Iced, for a very warm southern California October day—yum and a-a-a-a-a-ah. Such a pleasure to share the treat with my best friend (he likes to give his caramel frap bunny ears) at our favorite Starbucks located in the Wells Fargo Bank   building.

This beautiful fountain has been around the block a few times. It’s moved almost as many times as I have. Installed initially in the Orange Plaza in 1887, relocation followed in 1940 to Hart Park (known as Orange City Park then) but without the graceful birds. At some point and for some reason it was delegated to storage for awhile. (How exactly does one store a fountain of this size?) The city restored it in 1981, reuniting it with its birds, and placed it at the Civic Center in front of the Council Chambers. When this new rendition of the library was finished (2007?), the fountain was chosen to grace the northwest corner. I hope it gets to stay awhile.

The scrumptious sherbet-y scarf is from my mom. The day’s temp was in the 80s but the scarf matches this top so well and when it comes to my love of scarves, I do not let climate dictate my fashion preference; besides scarves also come in handy when in air-conditioning. 

Hubby has a new shirt too. His mom sent it to him earlier this year. Yay for our moms!

                  

              Last, but absolutely not least, from my adorable and adoring sister Robyn:

THE. FANTABULOUS. GORGEOUS. PURPLE HAT! 

Thank you ever so much, daahling. I feel like royalty.

Also wearing the luxurious pashmina she chose for me. My sister dresses me up so fine! And every time I wear it I feel like I’m getting a hug from her.

   I like the sparkle found inside the package. 

Now, to find a fancy holiday tea party… 

Not That One

My delight is five-fold in hosting a guest blogger today.

·        Delight #1:  She is the granddaughter of Francine Arnold, author of Not My Will, one of the first Christian novels I ever read and loved.

·        Delight #2:  Her talent as a fictional writer, in her own right, earns my high admiration.

·        Delight #3:  She offered to lend her exceptional talent to a post over here in my little corner.

·        Delight #4:  After giving her a few topical options, she chose hats (ecstatic sigh).

·        Delight #5:  Although not having read my Mad Hatter post, her fictional story reflects a glimmer of that experience, so to me this is a divinely-inspired piece.

Please help me welcome the one-and-only Jan Ackerson. And would you do me the honor of showing her your appreciation by visiting her blog One Hundred Words as soon as you can. Thank you and enjoy.

Not That One

On Sunday mornings, Betty stood with her mother at her closet, watching as she picked the hat she’d wear to church. There were four hat boxes—a white one, a blue striped one, a yellow one, and one with a red ribbon. Mother never picked the yellow one.

“Which hat today, Little Bee?”

Betty took her mother’s gloved hand and played with the pearl button at her wrist. “Mama, the yellow one?”

Her mother laughed. “Not that one, Bee.” She took the hat from the striped box.

“Why not, mama?”

Her mother paused, her hand at her throat. “Not that one.”

(Aaagh! Embarrassing update: I misspelled Jan's grandmother's name. It's actually Francena H. Arnold. I knew that; the book is on my bookshelf. Apologies galore.)

Mad Hatter

I’ll bet some of you are wondering if there is any significance to me wearing a hat in my blog photo. Why, yes. There IS a story behind that. Would you like me to tell you? Okay, I will.

Hats intrigue me although for a long time I hated ‘em. Growing up I heard a lot of dogmatic teaching on 1 Corinthians 11, which talks about hats, you know.

Did you know that a hat can be a harmful weapon? Sad but true. My own hat was used as a weapon against me one time.

The church I was raised in taught that 1 Corinthians insists women must wear hats—head coverings, whenever they are assembled to worship the Lord in a gathering of believers. We were also admonished that women must never cut their hair. One hot summer Sunday morning, as was the current fashion in 1971, I arranged my long hair into an upsweep with a curly wiglet on top. And then discovered to my frustration none of my usual hats would fit. So I grabbed a bright yellow triangular shaped scarf with fluttery fabric petals all over it, covered my hair entirely with it and tied it in a neat bow at the back. Now I’d heard a rumor that our senior elder’s wife disapproved of this type of head covering but since I thought it inappropriate to believe rumors and she had never personally told me this, I merely discounted the rumor and went off to church. I mean, my hair was completely covered, which was the whole idea, right?

           

No sooner had I sat down but I noticed our senior elder’s wife leaning over to him and whispering something to him while glaring angrily at me. He immediately jumped up, strode over to stand in front of me and in a stage whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, said, “How dare you come to the Lord’s table with such a hat on! You go home right now and change it.”

           

As you can imagine I was humiliated and mortified. And rather indignant, too! Instead of going home, I went to a nearby park and cried for two hours. My feelings were crushed.

           

I did get an apology of sorts a few days later as in “IF I offended you, sister, I’m sorry” but it was the beginning of the end for me at that church. No disclosure was ever given as to why that particular head covering was so offensive, and let me tell you, the hats worn by many of the women were by no means unostentatious.

A couple years later I left that sect and didn’t wear hats for a long time, except for my wedding. I finally realized a few years ago that hats appeal to me; hats are cute and fun, so why not wear them because my joyfulness is expressed when I wear one. And no worries about offending someone if I don’t wear one or wear the ‘wrong’ one. I’m pretty sure my praises to God are acceptable whether I’m wearing a hat or not.

           

It was really rather silly, don’t you think? Good thing there’s forgiveness for silly because I know I’ve been silly a time or two about stuff that doesn’t matter. And I’ve worked at forgiving the mad hatter as well.

And now I collect hats. Don’t have a huge collection—hats tend to take up space, you know, when they’re not covering up the space between my two ears, so I haven’t gone overboard amassing them. Only have about two dozen that I store in hat boxes. Occasionally I give one an outing. Here are a couple more photos of me joyfully doing so. 

This cute little cocktail hat was given to my daughter by an aunt. My daughter passed it on to me for safekeeping.

Although I never go out for cocktails, I feel rather flirty with the feather and veil in place.