Untold Story #9: Lions Narnia Braille Trail

At some point, I came across and saved The Complete Listing of All Public Children's Literature Statues in the United States; then, at some later point, I noticed that there are statues from C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in Kingsport, Tennessee. The statues, as it turns out, are on what's called the Lions Narnia Braille Trail, which is part of a Boundless Playground (for children of all physical and mental abilities) in Warriors' Path State Park. We'd never been to Warriors' Path.

Typically, we celebrate Charleigh's birthday at Jellystone in Natural Bridge or Luray, but I talked Jim into camping at Warriors' Path, this year. We had to drive a bit further, but staying in a tent in Warrior's Path is about ten times less expensive than staying in a cabin in Jellystone. Also, the Warriors' Path location was much more convenient for my parents, who camped beside us in their little, homemade camper.

All of us enjoyed the campground; in fact, I know my dad's planning to return. (I think to fish?) I'd called to make reservations (as opposed to making them online) and gotten excellent recommendations regarding our campsites, which were beside bathrooms and a playground. The kids ran amok (under our relatively watchful eyes) and made lots of friends.

The Narnia trail was my favorite thing about Warriors' Path, as I knew it would be. Each of the eight sensory stations tells a part of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe not only in braille, but also by recording.

I didn't edit this photo because it makes me laugh.
 I wonder how many times I've been the photographer in the background?

While in Kingsport, we also bought hot dogs from the original Pal's and visited the Kingsport Carousel, which had opened just a little over a year before and includes all hand-carved animals. It was a great trip, overall; I recommend it highly.

Family

I've blogged exactly half our summer. I don't know how I fell so far behind: living, I guess. Now it's back-to-school. In years past, this has saddened me, but at the start of this school year, I became both a high-school-band mom and a home-school mom. I can't stop smiling. I want to write more about these things, but I want to catch up, first.

I especially don't want to let summer slip away without my sharing that some of summer's greatest blessings were opportunities to visit with family. Andrea and her bunch live about forty-five minutes from us, and I have some cousins at the beach; otherwise, our relatives are outside of Virginia. We love living here but miss our people.

I grew up (Have I told you this?) with grandmothers who were best friends. It was the strangest, best thing. I could very well attend a family reunion of my dad's people, for example, along with my mom's parents and sister. After we moved to Tennessee, my four grandparents drove south together, to visit. If I mailed a letter to one grandma, she would call the other to share it over the phone. (Would it be wrong for me to pray for Cade's mother-in-law to be my best friend?)

Anyway, all of it came back in a rush, this July, when great chunks of our family happened to be in Virginia Beach at the same time. Jim's brother's family drove from Ohio, and my parents, brother's family, and my mom's family (many of her siblings and their children/grandchildren) drove and flew in from all over the country. Jim, the kids, and I slipped over for a little more than twenty-four hours. We walked the boardwalk with Jim's brother's family, and the next day (a rainy day) visited Nauticus with Jim's brother's family, my brother, and my brother's older son. That afternoon, Jim and I put his brother's younger daughter in the seventh seat of our minivan and drove to Sandbridge to visit with my parents, my brother's family, my mom's family, and--get this!--two of my dad's nieces, their husbands, and one niece's grandson, all gathered in the same house.

I know that's terribly confusing, but trust me: it was beautiful. I hope my photos bring you some small measure of the joy those twenty-four hours brought me.

Jim and Chip on the Boardwalk

Clementine, Niece Adalynn Grace, and Chip on the Beach after Dark

Clementine, Adalynn Grace, and Jim's Brother Terry on the Boardwalk

Adalynn Grace at Nauticus

Terry and Adalynn Grace, with My Crew...

I didn't come close to photographing everyone in the house in Sandbridge, and I'm not going to label out the collages, below. Still, I think I captured the spirit; at least, I feel a little weepy, just now, looking over the photos.

Jim, the kids, and I connected with family a few other blessed times, too, over the summer. In my next post, I'll share some of those photos.

Repost: A Letter to My Teenage Self

Dear Brandee,

You'll turn 16 in a few, short weeks. Don't do that thing you're on the brink of doing. What a big bunch of hype for a whole lot of totally not worth it.

I get you perfectly, some twenty-two years down the road, and you're putting a truckload of unnecessary pressure on yourself. You know that--by the time Mom was your age--she'd been dating Dad for something like three years. She married him at 17. You're feeling frantic and even a little old. It would be funny if it weren't so tragic.

Sixteen is not old. Take it from me: 33 is a pretty good age to marry, and your body will be capable of growing a baby even at 38. I know, I know: Mom is 37 right now, and the thought of her, pregnant, is unfathomable. But she's more of a hottie and a spring chicken than you realize.

Stop thinking about Mom and her timeline. Stop it. Stop it! I understand why you're doing it (She's amazing!), but stop it. You'll never be her: never, ever. (Do let her teach you to sew, though, and cook...and can food.) You're what happened when two people collided: two! You're at least 50% Carl Shafer and, at the end of the day, wholly yourself. Concern yourself with becoming who you are. Allow your life to unfold in its own way, in its own time.

Because here's the thing: you have perfect instincts. You're headed for the right college. Also, the boys in your life worth loving are the very same ones with whom you never consider intimacy. You tell Mom: you love them too much to risk losing them. You're wiser than you know; you'll love them, still, over two decades from now, and you'll know how to find them. Don't try to date the one because--even though the two of you never cross any lines--that unnecessary history will complicate things down the road.

Your memories with your three boy friends will become some of the ones you'll cherish most. Make more of them. Go to your junior prom with Matthew. Spend even more time riding with Jason. Spend even more time swimming with Mark.

Enjoy more fully your family, your girlfriends (especially Carlena, Sonia, Annie), your church youth group, your high school band. You're getting ready to leave Scott County for good; make the most of what time you have left. Spend more time listening to what James Watson and T.L. Lay have to say. Love on Stacey even harder. Go ahead and track down Hoyle Hutson and tell him you're sorry for acting out in his sixth-grade science class because--by the time you actually feel sorry (having tried and failed to teach a bunch of heathens)--he'll be in the ground.

Or don't change a dad-burned thing.

I'm not going to lie to you: you can save yourself a whole heap of trouble, here. But--even if you don't--it'll all be ok enough, in the end. The Lord will go with you wherever you go, and you'll fall in love with Him one way or the other: even though you'll find Him different than how they teach Him in the little, white church. He lives in your heart, and He's more faithful than you can possibly fathom.

I love you.
Your 38-year-old Self

**I wrote this letter a couple years ago but am reposting in response to the prompt “A Letter to My Younger Self” at The High Calling. You can read other offerings and join in the fun by clicking here.

Unblogged Happiness: June Edition

06/01 - Clementine's recital. I was in Tennessee with Jim (who had lost his mother two days before) and missed it. That was hard, but--given that Clementine had been practicing her ballet and tap routines since September--I'm so glad she was able to participate. I'm especially grateful to my mom, who drove eight hours to stand in for me, then delivered our precious girl to us in time for the funeral. 

Seven of Clementine's loved ones showed up to watch her recital. I put Cade in charge of flowers, and his sweet stepmother put together a special arrangement just for Clementine. The other dance moms were completely supportive. April's photos, below, are a gift. You find out who your friends are.

I can hardly wait to watch the recital DVD!

Photos by April Young

06/06 - Visit to my parents'. In the photo just below (top left), my parents were planting pastel M&Ms with the little kids. The funny thing is that--after dark, when the kids were asleep--Mom crept out to the planter to replace the M&Ms with lollipops only to discover that the M&Ms had already "sprouted and bloomed." She said it messed with her for a few seconds until she realized Dad had beaten her to the task.  

06/09 - Cade (far right) and our curly-headed friend Andrew advance to the rank of Star.

We'd returned from Tennessee with our nine-year-old nephew Boone and spent a couple weeks sharing our favorite things with him.
 

06/10 - Metro Richmond Zoo

06/13 - Bear Creek Lake

06/13 - Bear Creek Lake

06/14 - Water Country USA

06/20 - Science Museum of Virginia

06/20 - Science Museum of Virginia

06/22 - Mom had been in Maryland visiting family, and we met her in Staunton so Boone could hitch a ride home to East Tennessee. Afterward, we picked cherries at Spring Valley Orchard in Afton. 

06/27 - Daddy's girl. We'd had a big week: VBS for the girls, senior-citizen luncheon with our friends from the adult home, two trips to the pediatrician with Chip (who had the croup and an ear infection), and that's just scratching the surface, really, as I'd also taken a friend to the ER and visited two other hospitals to welcome/photograph new babies. I took this photo of Clementine and Jim at the event for culmination of VBS. She was pouting because it was time to go. I love this photo because I love this moody little girl, also this man who parents with everything he has.

06/28 - Honeybee Festival at Rockwood Park. This was our first time attending this free and educational event, and I'm so glad we went. The girls made bees out of pipe cleaners and had their faces painted. Clementine was all about the bee petting; did you know that drones (boy honey bees) don't sting? 

06/29 - Busch Gardens Williamsburg.

That's Cade's friend Sam carrying Charleigh (Top R). Cade's friends fit right into our family: an answer to prayer, for sure.

06/30 - Our first trip to Swift Creek Berry Farm for blueberries, this year. (We've been a second time, by now.)

I doubt that, in almost four years, I've ever blogged so little as I did, June. It would be easy to look as these photos and assume I was too busy, but truth is: I was too sad. I was doing what I do when I'm sad, which is to say: I tear up the road even more than usual; photograph even more than usual; bake even more than usual (think cherry and blueberry pies); and make even greater efforts, than usual, to fill that seventh seat of the minivan. These are constructive (or, at least, not destructive) ways to bring myself back around.

I do feel better, now, than I did. My life is beautiful and full, and I never didn't know that. If anything, I've been sad because my life is fleeting in its beauty and fullness. I feel that and have been fighting to enjoy the moment I'm in instead of grieving its too-quick passage. 

I'll leave you, for now, with some photos of the new babies in our lives: each so perfect and precious, each such a gift from heaven.

From Top to Bottom: Babies Caleb, Kayelynn, and Haven

For Father's Day: A Repost

I am, 100%, my daddy's girl.

Mom has accused me, many times, of being just like my dad, but we all know my extroversion and sensitivity had to come from somewhere, and--if I were guessing--I'd credit her.  (My *cough* parachuting-hypnotist parent.) 

Still, I've definitely got some Carl Shafer going on, and I've got the sense that I'm exactly what happens when my parents collide (and raise up, with care), and I'm glad for it.  I can tell you, honestly: I've never wished to be anyone else.  I've wished to be better, but never other.

I've thought for days what I might write to pay tribute to my dad on Father's Day and find it impossible to pour so much love into a blog post. 

But I can share with you this: my dad permitted my first-grade teacher to give me a bunny, and he bought me a real pony and, later, a real horse.  He rode big chunks of the C&O Canal with me, on horseback.  He took me swimming in the Conococheague and rose up from the water of that tributary looking like a pirate, one eye closed.  He took me crabbing in the Chesapeake Bay; raccoon hunting in northern Pennsylvania and east Tennessee; fishing in various waters; camping in various parks.  There was an entire, father-daughter weekend camp, once, when I was a Brownie. 

My dad made the characters in the blue Bible Story book come to life and "elves" move the train around the Christmas tree backwards at my command.  He rug-burnt his nose, once, when his "all fours" got tangled up, playing bear (or horse) with me on his back.  He helped make many pinatas (including, once, a pink, Christmas pig) and a rocket ship for my raw-egg "astronaut."  Also homemade potato candy and chips, homemade ice cream, scrambled eggs red with tomato juice.

He removed, painlessly, my splinters.  He played games of all sorts with me: Pick Up Sticks, Stratego, Spades, Clue, Monopoly, Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit.  He made my mom's baby-blue Volkswagen Beetle hop hills on the way to Hollowell Brethren.  He drove the youth bus for Millbranch Missionary Baptist. 

He drove over an hour, once, just to change my truck battery; eight hours, once, to retrieve my friends and me after I flipped a car and landed upside-down in a swamp near Hattiesburg, Mississippi; and another eight hours, once, just to get in the car and accompany me to Wolf Trap, where we watched The Wizard of Oz, to the National Symphony and Orchestra's playing the score.

I could write each thing as its own story.  Maybe, over time, I will, and all the other things, too.

But no matter what or when, the point is this:

my dad loves me, and--even in the bad times--I've always known.

       

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

I'm glad God picked you for mine.

Dad and Clementine

Unblogged Happiness: May Edition

Early Mother's Day Dinner (just the 6 of us) at Cheeburger Cheeburger

Followed by Frozen Yogurt at Sweet Frog

A few hours (more dinner and frozen yogurt) on Mother's Day with the family into which I was born.

Big Dragon of Caryville, TN

Homemade Banana Pudding

Jellystone Luray (just a quick stop to check it out)

Busch Gardens Williamsburg

You'll be wanting that banana-pudding recipe. You can find it here.