summer on the breezeway

 

there's a little room between the kitchen and the garage of our home that my grandma christened "the breezeway." i like to think of it as the early-morning-coffee-with-the-sunshine-spilling-in-way. or the late-evening-salads-before-walking-way. it's the perfect little space for breathing, i've found. as because it's not quite outside but not quite in, pablo goes crazy over it, running from screen to screen looking out at bunnies in the lawn. one night in april, we sat and rocked on the glider and listened to a prairie home companion as a late spring storm spun outside and sprayed its droplets onto our ankles. pretty soon, it will be winter again and the breezeway won't be as comfortable, so we're soaking up this little nugget of time every chance we can.

moving away from the screen

 via

this morning my neck aches after staying up until eleven working on online training. a physical reminder that our bodies aren't meant for sitting still for very long, much less for sitting cross-legged in a dimly lit living room staring into a glowing screen mere inches away while the dog is rolled up beside you and your husband flips through the channels.

when nanno passed away, the one thing i told myself was this: in my effort to be more like him (an overachieving and overambitious attempt), i will do more. interact with this pretty world more. lie on more hills. take more long walks. stretch more in the mornings.

nanno grew up without a computer, or television for that matter. one time, his mama made him ride his bike all the way across town to deliver papers that would let his family leave sicily and return to america. weren't you tired? my mom asked. oh no, he responded. i was happy and excited to do it.

i want that motivation. one thing's for sure-i won't find it in front of a screen. i will search for it deep in the recesses of my favorite coffee shop, in that corner booth that's always empty at just the right time during my lunch break. i will search in the morning, when the rain has lifted and a cloud hangs over the garden like cotton candy. i'll search in the evening, when the field out back is sage green and glowing. or maybe in late afternoon, when every car that passes is filled with someone living out their story.

i'll search, and in the searching, i'll move. my joints will pop with the surprise of a new action. i'll be sore and it will be hard to get up some mornings. but i've got to do it. for my health, my sanity, and for nanno. for the uncanny belief that there's a world to be devoured, and it starts by looking up from the screen.

a burial and a burr patch

this weekend was beautiful. we sent nanno off with a full military funeral, some special big band music, and a slideshow that didn't leave a dry eye in the room.

in other news, pablo broke his leash on saturday, ran into the woods, frolicked in a burr patch for five minutes, and came out looking like this.

when it's a weekend and no vet or groomer is available, parents have to do what parents have to do.

we shaved him with my dad's beard trimmers.

hope your weekend was equally lovely!

a good and faithful servant

  photo by my talented cousin jeff portaro

he always told me i would be the next poet laureate, but for the life of me, i can't come up with the right words to tell you about my Nanno, sam.

he was 91 when he passed away thursday morning, warm in his bed holding the hands of his daughters (one being my sweet mama), his family all around him. i was lucky enough to know him for 25 of those years. to sit beside him at the kitchen table three times a week and yell out jeopardy answers and wheel of fortune letters. to meet him and mama for lunch at chick-fil-a, wendy's and a slew of other little fast food haunts he loved. he had a smile that, when he flashed it, took away any little worries or stresses i had hanging over me, and warmed me. actually, it was more of a grin than a smile, a genuine happiness.

he wore a cardigan with elbow patches before they were cool, and for years he proudly sported a tan baseball cap that read "NANNO" in big letters, one i had custom made for him at those little kiosks in the mall. he loved big band music, especially artie shaw's begin the beguine. "put that one on repeat!" he'd tell mama. he also loved italian loaf bread, root beer, and jell-o.

he was eternally grateful; "thank you" was his favorite phrase. he loved to fire up his old desktop computer and use his outdated software to make custom greeting cards for every birthday and holiday, the same message always in each: "i wish you at least a hundred more filled with health and happiness."

i could go on. i could tell you about how he talked to my grandma's side of the bed in the evenings, when he thought no one could hear, or about how he loved crosswords and novels all of his life and was the sharpest man i knew. how he served in the navy and lived in sicily as a child.

on wednesday, he asked if my sister and i had to go back to college soon. we told him we still had a few months, and that we would spend them with him. "oh, that's going to be so great!" he exclaimed, "'i'll try to get my strength back up."

now, a tremendous void is left, filled only with the beautiful glimpse of Heaven he gave us these last few days. he saw boys in white suits and called out my sweet grandma's name. he reached out his hand and said "i'm reaching beyond. i'm reaching through it." i have never felt anything more sacred in my life. there were angels all over the place in that tiny bedroom, inside the house he raised his children in, and the bed he shared with his sweet wife.

he looked at all of us and said, "i've got my treasure here with me." he was ours, and losing him is nothing short of a deep, sad blow. but he left such a sweet legacy. one of humility, grace, kindness and purity. one i will forever measure myself against.

he was truly one of a kind, an irreplaceable original. a few days before he passed away, my cousin held his hand and told him, "they just don't make men like you anymore, Nanno."

"nope," he grinned,

"they threw the pattern away."

scenes from a country cottage: wedding flowers and a prayer request

 

 

 

 

one benefit of being in weddings for two sweet friends on back-to-back weekends is the beautiful flower arrangements i get to take home. they are little reminders of love scattered throughout the rooms of our little cottage, bringing vibrant color to this early spring washed in green.

see that little yellow rose in the last picture? tonight i'll be taking that up to the hospital to sit beside nanno's bed. you guys have prayed for nanno in the past, lifting him up and sending him words of love and encouragement. he's back in the hospital now with what appears to be congestive heart failure.

i dropped my mixing bowl of banana bread and rushed to follow the ambulance yesterday as it sped past our yard. my heart sank when i realized it stopped in front of his house. he's a good and kind and honest man, and we're not quite ready to share him with heaven yet.

this blogging community is beautiful for its shared space of hope. so thank you for hoping along with us.

a stroll down the road

i needed to get out outside yesterday. to free myself from the white walls of my office and breathe in God's air. seriously, there are times when i just go outside, breath and feel the heavenly spirit wrap around me. this usually happens in the morning, when the sun is just peeking its head up and the world is chilled, fresh and stark.


so yesterday evening, robert and i walked pablo to my grandfather (nanno)'s house for supper. it's only about a quarter of a mile, but it's my favorite stretch of land anywhere, hands down. the road is perfectly flat, great for riding a bike on warm summer nights. it's rarely traveled, flanked by fields on the left and older homes on the right. it's the kind of street where people live for 50 years and don't move. where neighbors grow up together and wave from their yards. i feel at home there.

wooden mailbox posts

 pretty manicured shrubs

sweet cottages by the roadside

 log piles and hay bales in the sunset

sometimes i forget just how calming fresh air can be. its innate ability to snap me out of a funk or give me some grand new idea. and i love the way God whispers through the tiniest of movements, like fluttering leaves. 


yesterday morning, i watched a squirrel perched on our well eat an acorn for about ten minutes. i sat nearby and watched its little jaw work furiously at the meat. it was spectacular and downright adorable.


sometimes i forget that humans aren't the only part of this immaculate creation, and the center of the world is more directly aligned with nature than structure, with feeling rather than facebooking.


and i thank the heavens for a God who reminds me of these things and forgives me when i cling too tightly to my walls, nudging me ever so sweetly outdoors, outside, among His creation, to really start living, one small walk down the road at a time.

prayers for nanno

my sweet grandfather, known in my family affectionately as "nanno," is going to the doctor twice tomorrow (wednesday, jan. 26) for some tests--once to the heart doctor and once to the gastroenterologist {digestive health}. the heart visit is just a check-up, but the other is not routine, and recent lower body pain has caused the appointment.

a little background on nanno:

• his name is sam.
• he turned 90 in october 2010. 
• he completes an entire newspaper crossword puzzle every single day.
• he is a banagrams champ.
• since he lost my grandma in 2003, he still talks to her in the mornings and evenings, at the foot of his bed in prayer, in the darkness of their bedroom. he's kept her sewing basket, hand lotion, and hairbrush beside her chair. they would have been married 65 years this year.
• he wears the most dapper berets and cardigans i've ever seen. robert wanted a sweater like him so bad, and dropped so many hints last year, that he was gifted with five cardigans in december. we called it a "cardigan christmas."
• he never asks for anything or complains, so any pain he mentions is serious.
• he is precious beyond words.

every tuesday, thursday and saturday, my family eats supper with nanno. before we eat, we hold hands around the table and thank the Lord for our blessings. 

so friends, i have an idea. a way to join hands, collectively across the blogosphere and pray, send up happy thoughts and well wishes, and just be united, at the same time. to help nanno get through his trial. if you pray, please do this with me. if not, is simply think of nanno, a stranger though he is to you, and send some positive vibes and happy thoughts his way.

if you'll join me, i'd like to pray specifically for his 10:00 a.m. appointment with the gastroenterologist. the blogging world is diverse and scattered, so for this to work, we have to think about several time zones. i think it would be so beautiful to bathe him in prayer at exactly the same time. complete strangers lifting him up at the exact moment he walks through those doctor doors. 

here's a little timetable. nanno's appointment is wednesday, at 10:00 a.m. EST. i am posting this on the this on tuesday evening because some of the times convert to quite early in the morning. i could not find a simple-to-use 24 time zone converter, but if your time zone is not on this chart, please go here for a world clock.

here are the times that correlate with 10 a.m. EST on wednesday:

 

prayer time zone chart

whether you're lying on your back in the warmth of your bed, sitting in a conference room, or taking your children to school, when it's your time, if you are willing, i'd so appreciate the prayers.

thank you. from the bottom of my heart, and the hearts of my family, thank you.