Pickleball | Snowshoes | Don’t Eat Blue Snow

2023 has its own Wikipedia page, and here are some of the things included on the global calendar this year:

• Luxembourg, Thailand, Turkey, Sudan, Guatemala and at least ten other countries will hold their national elections this year.
• King Charles will be crowned King of England in May.
• India is projected to surpass China to become the world’s most populous country.

In my small part of the globe, who knows what the year may hold? But so far in 2023, I have already sampled two new sports: pickleball and snowshoeing.

This is surprising, since I am not a person who inserts athletics into her bio. I favor reading, sewing, audiobooks, and gentle walks.

Pickleball

Since practically everyone in my family is playing pickleball, I wanted to try it — and it is FUN! I took a class on January 2nd, and since then, I have been thinking of ways to play inexpensively at an indoor court. During a cold Minnesota winter, indoor court time is precious, and you must share with others. It’s unusual to reserve an indoor court just for yourself and a friend – it’s pickleball courtesy to let another pair join you.

Before I took the class, my husband gave me a quick tutorial session, and we volleyed with two other pickleballers. 

We played for 1.5 hours. 

Since my body wasn’t used to this (I haven’t used tennis muscles since the 20th century), I left the court with a pulled hamstring.

It didn’t seem right to injure myself in a sport that seems designed for and enjoyed by so many senior citizens. But the muscle is healing, and I will keep trying to find ways to play with other beginners like me.

Snowshoes

Early in January 2023, a foot of snow landed on us here in Minnesota. This made driving difficult, my teenage boys busy, and our tractor a necessity for blowing snow off our long rural driveway.

This beautiful, white, deep snowy landscape was the perfect backdrop to try a snowshoeing class, hosted by the local park system. My two youngest boys and I were glad for a balmy 29 degree day yesterday, as we strapped on our rented snowshoes and followed the leader up the woodsy hill.

Snowshoes have a sharp-toothed metal piece that allows your foot to grip slippery surfaces, and the snowshoe’s width spreads out your weight, so you don’t sink down into deep snow.

Besides learning about how to navigate trails using these simple contraptions, we also learned that you shouldn’t eat blue snow. When you see this, it means that rabbits or deer have eaten buckthorn, which turns their urine a lovely shade of blue.

Don’t eat blue snow.

New Year Thoughts

What will 2023 hold for each one of us?

Colorful experiences?

Strained muscles?

New life seasons?

Deeper insights?

Growth? Learning?

Overcoming? Letting Go?

Some of these don’t seem to arrive without stretching, sweat, or struggle.

Verses I am studying from the book of James remind me that we all go through trials, but trials are not the end of the story. If we let God do His work in us, trials can refine and improve us (but nobody said it was easy.)

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. 

James 1:2-4 MSG

May 2023 be your best year yet.

The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective. ~Gilbert K. Chesterton

Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better person. ~Benjamin Franklin

Life is short. Stay awake for it. ~ Caribou Coffee

First Wedding

We just experienced our family’s first wedding, which was splendid – and surreal! I never quite imagined myself in the role of “mother of the groom”. It was always someone else dressing up and being walked down the aisle to sit in that seat. But this time it was my husband and I playing in the drama, hearing our son and his bride sing a duet and take their vows, and viewing the mystery of God molding a new family entity. 

Although getting everyone packed off on a plane across the country was an intense task, I think it caused us to give our undivided attention to the event, live in-the-moment and purposefully mingle with new friends and family members. Brothers and sisters in Jesus inspired us with their generous hospitality. They let us invade their homes, eat their food and drive their company van for the weekend. Love was seen everywhere, and not just at the altar. 

We are still chewing on the reality that it’s over, and giving glory to God for His inscrutable, glorious, ongoing plan!

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photos by: Ashley Katherine Photo

Colors and Scarves and Ponchos – Oh My!

Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.

~ Coco Chanel

Black & Gray

I wonder if your closet looks like mine did one year ago, bursting with blacks, charcoals and grays. When spring and summer rolled around, I would swap out the gray and black sweaters for short sleeved gray and black shirts. I felt safe in those slimming colors, and there is something comforting about a closet of versatile neutrals, even if they are unimaginative.

Color Consultation

Then, for my 2021 birthday my children gave me a House of Colour consultation with Katie Tenney. Katie placed various colored scarves around my face to discern what swatches looked best, and then narrowed it down even further to discover my best color season. Would it be Fall, Winter, Spring or Summer?

Spring’s Here

Turns out, I’m a “Spring”, with my complexion favoring bright, peppy colors. (Springs don’t tend to look great in black — interesting.)

So, with a humble budget I tiptoed into the wacky world of color. Starting at Goodwill, I bought teal, turquoise and even bright orange garments. 

I found that the quickest and cheapest way to infuse color into my closet was with wardrobe accents. I found a few luxurious secondhand cashmere ponchos and fell in love with soft, non-scratchy, lightweight wool scarves. 

Now my closet looks dangerously clownlike — but also happily fresh and flattering.

{ Noisy Nature }

I hauled two busy boys along on a walk last Monday.

I warned them in my best tough-mom voice:

“We will walk ten miles today, boys. If you want your water bottle, carry it yourself. If you grumble and whine, you will not get a treat at the end. You can do this. We can do this. Let’s go build some muscle, guys!”

So we started off on a well known path.

They were trailing behind me.

Perfect time for me to whip out my earbuds and listen to my own audiobook.

Peace and quiet and lovely time to myself.

Nah, I will wait a little.

Then it got noisy.

That throaty, burping frog pond.

That airy, whistling, bird choir.

The rustles in the dry leaves of tiny who-knows-whats.

I couldn’t miss this.

Spring was waking up here.

The sun was melting my winter slouch.

My ears were being treated to a magnificent, miraculous, musical racket.

“Make a joyful noise,” said the psalmist.

Maybe this is what he meant.

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Psalm 100

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! 

Serve the Lord with gladness!
Come into his presence with singing!

Know that the Lord, he is God!
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him; bless his name!

For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures forever,
and his faithfulness to all generations.

~~~

This is my Father’s world:
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world:
He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass,
He speaks to me everywhere.

–from the 1901 hymn “This is My Father’s World” / lyrics by Maltbie D. Babcock

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{ Spring Break with Mom — Part Two }

Waves

The beach is mesmerizing, and I could sit and watch the translucent-teal waves foam up on the sand all day long.

The way God fashioned waves is a repeating design pattern in life…but that is another blog post in itself.

Hypnotic waves on Miami Beach

Patterns & People

Last night, after the beach, after makeup removal, after getting cozy on my chair, Gino asked me to go for a walk around the colorful 4 x 4 block radius that we have called “home” this past week, where he has explored so much more than I.

How could I say no?

The air was balmy on our last night, as he led me through the upscale design district in my pre-bedtime state of appearance. We pranced right through a busy, outdoor bar where fancy people chatted in a courtyard. We weaved through a maze of colors and patterns, past designer shops with their sparsely-chic shelves and products. Everywhere we went, it smelled like someone wearing high-end perfume had just recently sailed through.

The abundant patterns and colors of the Miami Design District

Goodbye, Miami

All good things must come to an end.

Geoffrey Chaucer

When I start calling our place “home”…

When I start thinking about a Starbucks run every day at 3 p.m. just because it is within walking distance…

When I start swaying to Latino rap like it’s normal (all those Uber rides)…

Then I know it is time to hightail my homeschool-mom-self back to the Midwest.

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“I will sing to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me!” — Psalm 13:6

{ Spring Break with Mom – Part One }

You might think it is strange for a mother to accompany her son to Miami for Spring Break, but here is how it happened…

My 20-year-old son Gino, who is taking online college classes, announced that he wanted to take a trip to Florida for spring break. After considering this, I mused aloud…

“It would be fun to go with you.

I wonder if I could swing it.

Would you hate that?” 

Then, I let it rest.

A few days later, he said, “That would actually be nice — you going with me.”

“REALLY??!!!!?” I asked.

My husband agreed, home duties were delegated, and so it was planned. Gino reserved our flights and our spot at a spacious 2 bedroom Airbnb. 

Day One

Arriving in Miami

We landed at 11:00 a.m. and basked in the 35 degree temperature change. We rode to our neighborhood, but the place wouldn’t be ready until 3:00 p.m. Gino stopped at Target and met me later, where I was lounging outside under the palm trees at a Starbucks. We hung out there before walking a few short blocks to our lovely little duplex in the Miami Design District. 

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First Meal, Best Meal

Since Gino and I had been up at 4:00 a.m. for our 6:30 flight, and we hadn’t eaten a solid meal all day, we decided to go to Versailles Restaurant, whose tagline is: “The World’s Most Famous Cuban Restaurant.” My Cuban-born husband and I discovered it when we went to Miami years ago, and its mouthwatering fare has haunted us ever since. Gino and I both ordered the Classic Cuban Sampler Platter. He polished it off, and I brought home half to enjoy tomorrow.

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Day Two

Frank from Instacart left two grocery bags on our doorstep at 7:55 a.m. Gino went walking. I wrote out my own paraphrase of Psalm 9 and pasted it up on our refrigerator. The morning was leisurely, but our goal today was to hit the beach!

Uberimmediately

Gino takes care of (and pays for) our Uber rides and I am grateful, since I am quite unfamiliar with all that. Today, Gino asked, “Should I call for an UBER?”

“Sure.”

I started thinking about what to pack for a day at the beach, such as my:

• walking shoes
• snacks
• sunscreen
• lip balm
• sunglasses
• reading glasses
• water bottles
• earbuds

…and suddenly Gino announced:

“Okay, he will be here in one minute.”

Whaaaaa?!

I rushed to cram everything into my backpack, and bumbled awkwardly into the car as I simultaneously strapped on a mask. I looked at Gino, who was calmly sitting there with absolutely nothing in his hands. 

“Do you have everything?” I asked.

“Yep.” he said.

Miami Beach

Once we arrived at Miami Beach it was breezy and around 70 degrees, but the sun peeked out from time to time, which gave stunning photos!

We split up when we reached the sand: I walked north and Gino walked south. I trudged happily six miles along the windy, lapping shore, searching in vain for large shells, but finding bouquets of sea vegetation and washed-up iridescent jellyfish.

After a few hours of walking, I headed west to the paved pathway that runs parallel to the beach. I found a bike rental kiosk and on a whim, rented a Citibike for two hours.

After 20 minutes, I met up with Gino on the path (where I shared some of my snacks with him, since he had come without any…hehe) and after an hour and a half, we met up again at the kiosk and planned to get a ride home.

Once again, I had barely untangled myself from the bike and gathered up my bulky wares, when Gino said, “Okay, our ride is almost here.”

Tweaking Expectations 

After getting home, he showered off all of the sand, came out of the bathroom and said:

You know you can go places without me, right?

This struck me as a strange juxtaposition of the parent-child relationship, but maybe this is the emerging story of aging and could I possibly be on the brink already?

To reassure him that I was capable, I took off for a walk to Target when he wasn’t looking, and I forced myself to take extra time browsing so I wouldn’t get home too soon. 

As I was heading home, whom do I see on the sidewalk, but my own son, giving me a minimalist smile in exchange for my motherly wave hello?

I got home and boldly drank strawberry kombucha out of a wine glass.

Day Three

Gino moves in and out of this place like a Ninja. One minute, I hear him exiting the bathroom, and the next minute I walk out to the living room and notice that his shoes and keys are gone. 

So, to prevent myself from calling out his name just to see if he is still here (I think this annoys him) I have resorted to checking his Google location (a temporary, trip-only concession).  

This morning, I told him that I’m going to stick around home and relax.

“I will probably walk over to Starbucks later this afternoon,” I said, hoping this would impress him.

But tomorrow — our last full day — I definitely want to go back to THE BEACH!

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{ Confessions of a Reluctant Homeschool Mom }

I have been living carefree, as if summer would last forever. Casual breakfasts at 9:00, lingering discussions over the kitchen table with my cup of coffee…late lunches at 1:00…cat naps on the sofa….easy, cool dinners created with garden produce. I have awakened in the morning thinking: maybe we will go to the beach today? Or the farmer’s market? Or perhaps we will grab our books and art supplies and blankets and fall asleep in the sun?

Fun bike rides on rail trails over the summer.

Not anymore. It is time to pay for the slothful sins of summer. I should have been hunting down appropriate textbooks and gathering resources. Week after week, I saw the universe of school supplies, shining from a distance in the aisles of Walmart. But did I walk toward the light? No. I lived in avoidance, by walking the long way round, through automotive or pet supplies.

Now, I humbly and hurriedly dig through a tangle of spiral wires, only to uncover the wide ruled notebooks that nobody wanted. I have ordered books on Amazon, but they won’t arrive until next week. My younger son asked yesterday, “I wonder what the spelling words will be?” I muse internally, “Hmmm, I wonder, too…” I start scratching down a possible word list.

How could I have lived in such denial? Even now, just hours before the bell rings, am I planning? No, I am sitting here at my computer, looking for suitable photos to post here with my ramblings.

The air is chilly. The coffee is brewing. I don’t know what I will serve for breakfast. The First Day of School has arrived.

More soon.

We discovered a lovely new beach this summer. I wish we had gone just once more…

This is me. I turned 55 this summer and I have been homeschooling for around 25 years.

{ Vamos a la Casa del Señor }

I wrote once before about my mother-in-law, Zenaida, on this blog, but last week I had the privilege of writing about her again, because we said our final goodbyes to Mama Z last week.

Here are some words I shared at the funeral of this tenacious Cuban lady, and the full story of her courageous exit from Cuba follows…

“We have a big family and each time after we had a baby, Zenaida would come for a visit, bearing LOADS of food. She didn’t just bring a meal and a bag of salad. It was more like:

• A huge watermelon
• 2 XL bags of tortilla chips
• 3 pineapples
• A large, heavy homemade loaf of banana bread, baked in a bundt pan
• A 10-pound package of ground beef
• And an institutional sized box of cereal

When she arrived, our refrigerator and freezer would be stuffed full and there was so much food on the table that there often wasn’t room for anyone to sit down and eat there.

That was just how she gave. 

She gave BIG. and

She gave generously.

On these visits after a new baby, Zenaida would find things to clean. She was thorough, and there was always something to clean at our house. She would scour the grimy highchair, she would pull out the washer and dryer and sweep behind, and once she used a toothpick to completely detail our toaster — removing every last crumb.

Zenaida loved to work with her hands, and she would add beauty and sparkle to her creations and sometimes add her own creative touch to something she had purchased. She made her own clothes and was not afraid to tackle complicated styles. She usually chose fancy fabrics with a little sparkle, and she always wore her outfits with her favorite jewelry.

Zenaida and I shared a love of sewing, however, the fabric I usually chose was much more plain and simple and I seldom wear much jewelry.

One time she took me aside and said:

“Lisa.  You shouldn’t dress so much like a nun.”

She sewed many dresses for me and for our daughters. Once she made me a jumper that had an opening cut out at the bottom.

She said:

“I made it like this, so when you are walking up the stairs, the dress will kind of open up at the bottom and show your legs a little bit.”

Actually, the dress I am wearing today is one that Zenaida made for herself and wore 30 years ago at our wedding. I think she would be happy to see me wearing something she made — and with a touch of sparkle in the fabric!

Tomorrow’s funeral service will include a Bible passage from Proverbs 31 about an inspiring, God-fearing woman. This is a fitting passage for Zenaida, because it includes phrases such as:

• She works with her hands in delight!
• She makes coverings for herself;
• Her clothing is fine linen and purple.
• The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil, all the days of her life. (I never knew Zenaida’s husband; he passed away many years before I became part of the family. But whenever she spoke about him, her words were loving and honoring.)

• She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.
• Her children rise up and bless her. 

And that last phrase is our desire: to share words that explain what a priceless part of the family that she will always be, and to express gratefulness for her investment of love in all of our lives.”

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More family members have written about Zenaida; read Theo’s tribute and Sophia’s story.

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Zenaida’s Obituary

In 1963, Zenaida Martinez Araujo Luciano left Cuba with her beloved husband, two young sons, and nothing else but her faith and courage. 

On August 15, 2020 Zenaida left this earth with a full life, along with the admiration of her large and loving family. 

Zenaida was born in the town of Santiago de Cuba, Cuba in 1932. She was the only child of Francisca Martinez Araujo. Zenaida and her mother lived with Josefa Fernandez, a dear family friend, who became like a second mother to her. 

Zenaida attended Escuela de Comercio where she joined the marching band as a drummer and played on the volleyball team. After high school, she studied at Escuela Profesional de Comercio and earned her degree in international trade and customs in 1955.

After finishing college, she fell in love with and married Antonio Luciano. The couple welcomed their first child, Antonio Jr., while living in New York. After Cuban dictator Batista was removed from office, they returned to Cuba, where their second son, José was born. When the new leader, Fidel Castro, declared Cuba a communist state, Zenaida and Antonio applied for permission to immigrate to the United States. 

Zenaida and Antonio finally received authorization to leave Cuba in 1963, and when they departed their homeland, they were forced to leave behind their family and friends, their wedding rings, and all earthly possessions. After a brief stay in Miami, the family obtained sponsorship generously offered by the Richfield Jaycees in Minnesota. When Zenaida’s friends warned her that she would have to milk cows up in Minnesota, she laughed and said she gladly would.

While living in Minneapolis, Zenaida and Antonio’s family grew as they were blessed with sons Nicholas and Giovanni. Sadly, in 1974, Zenaida’s beloved husband died of cancer, which left her with four children, limited English, and without a driver’s license, car or income source. Dauntless and determined, Zenaida pushed through these new challenges, and studied to become a U.S. citizen in 1976. She learned to drive and secured a job at the VA in laundry and food service. Later, she transferred to the IRS, where she worked for 20 years. After retiring in 1997, she was free to travel, sew, care for her grandchildren and attend their important events.  

Zenaida will always be remembered as a persistent, generous, faith-filled person who never gave up. She was the #1 fan of her grandchildren’s activities and she was always the first person to deliver a happy birthday phone call or a severe weather update. Among many other things, she was an expert seamstress, a sports enthusiast, the best banana-bread-baker, a lavish food-giver, towel-embellisher, soup-maker, salsa-dancer and the rainbow-jello-queen. 

This past year, Zenaida faced her cancer with dignity and courage, and she often expressed gratefulness to her family, who cared for her in her home. Zenaida passed away on August 15, 2020 at age 88, surrounded by her devoted family.

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(c) Lisa M. Luciano

{ This Week In Pictures }

1. Korean stop sign, photo taken by my son because he knows I like stop signs in various foreign languages.
2. New local bakery where my daughter and I shared a pecan caramel roll and cherry turnover, good coffee and sweet conversation.
3. Blueberry muffins galore, made by my daughter and gratefully consumed on ski day morning.
4. Time alone on a chairlift– beautiful and peaceful silent time. Short and sweet and high off the ground, but I’ll take it. 
5. Trying to walk regularly outside because I should, not because I really want to, so I grit my teeth and lean into the wind.
6. God frosted the trees for us, beautifying our homeschool ski day with His creative handiwork plus cheerful sunshine and no injuries.
7. My husband drove this cute little Mazda Miata down to Florida for a friend recently.  It looks like a toy car, but he sure got lots of applause / envy from strangers along the way.  The admiration sat well with my husband 🙂
8. I am sad to say goodbye to a wonderful audiobook trilogy about Crispin by author Avi. We finished the last of the three books this week.
9. From beginning to end, these stories about a young orphan growing up in the Middle Ages are adventurous, suspenseful, and touching.

1. Avi is a talented and prolific author and his first Crispin book is a Newbery Award Winner. 
2. We also liked The Traitor’s Gate by Avi, and his newest book, Gold Rush Girl, is coming out in March. (Avi is 82 years old and still going strong!)

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{ Surprise! 10 Things You Do}

Oldest son is moving to new base with the Air Force

What do you do when your oldest son — who is headed overseas for two years —  surprises you with an unannounced visit 3 days before leaving?

1. You say “WHAT?” about 10 times when he gives you a bear hug from behind, and you turn around and he’s there.
2. You cook him his favorite foods.
3. You listen to the foreign phrases he is practicing.
4. You talk about things he has learned.
5. You make sure he has enough warm blankets. You even steal them from other family member’s beds, because right now he is the special one.
6. You play charades with the family — including a reenactment of the moment he surprised you.
7. You take silly pictures.
8. You talk about when he will come back.
9. You pray with him and for him.
10. You wait for a play-by-play of his next stops, and for the moment he lands.