Earlier this month, Marcia brought Judy a cutting from one of the plants in her Wisconsin garden. The single rooted stalk became several plant starts as Marcia cut it into several pieces in order for it to fit into her carry-on luggage for the flight to Nashville. It appears from my observation that Judy and Marcia planted nine different portions of that stick into the ground near our trio of dogwood trees. So far, at least six of them have little leaves sprouting. Looks like a good start!

Hydrangea Arborescens "Mary Nell" was named after the wife of professor Joseph C. McDaniel of the University of Illinois. Apparently it is a fast growing variety of lacecap hydrangea. Michael Dirr reported in an article in Nursery Mag that he received two plants in January 2019 that had become 100 by August. This could become a problem! And they grow to five feet tall! I think Judy may need to find another spot in the yard for this new resident of the Hideaway.

Last weekend was the beginning of travel season for girls' softball in our area. It seems to me that there are tournaments every weekend until school resumes in August. I suspect that I am wrong for surely there is a free weekend in that stretch sometime. 

Tournaments are all day events; often they are all-day, multi-day events. And when that happens, the whole family is at the ballpark. There are pop-up tents everywhere and electric generators and coolers on wheels. And if you don't have shocks on your fold-up chair so you can rock, you must have missed the memo. Parents and siblings wear team shirts just like the players. And the kids who aren't playing get bored.

Someone remembered to bring sidewalk chalk. And the walkways were covered with drawings and games.

Maddy was there to play softball, four games, all victories including the championship game with trophy and rings. (Although this photo is watermarked DaySixPix, I did not take this picture).  And it was our first outing to someplace that didn't have "medical" in the name!

Acts 2:1-4 "When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability."

Interpretations abound on this passage and its importance for the birth of the church.

I am struck on how it emphasized unity; that all could hear and understand. In a time of fracture and tribalism and disunity and information bubbles, the church could provide a setting where all belong. The church should.

Yesterday I did not feel well most of the day, 12th day post treatment. The recovery period has gotten longer with each chemotherapy session and the depth of my fatigue has grown with each treatment as well. I am glad that I get an additional week of recovery prior to my final chemotherapy infusion on June 7. I need it.

But later in the day, I felt better. The pool temperature was 78 and I wanted to vacuum the final last portion of dead algae from the bottom of the pool. So I did. I even got in the water, and by 5 pm, the temperature had increased to 79. And I swam from one end to the other. A remarkable change from Wednesday when I got winded just trying to trim the weeds around one of the flower beds. Better each day. I am blessed. 

Judy's straw hat and Hideaway apron hang on the stair post. Each day we are moving closer to having company and saying good-by to Covid and Cancer. I am more than ready for visitors. Tourist season is year-round, every day, in Nashville. The Hartleroads and the Hideaway are nearly ready.

Today felt like summer. Windy, warm. 88 degrees and the pool has warmed to 77. Swimming temperature for me, but not yet for Judy.

It's the kind of day that you search for shade. Several years ago we planted a Forest Pansy Redbud tree at the corner of the house where one of the large Bradford trees had crashed down in a spring storm. It's a beautiful replacement. 

And this afternoon as I ventured out of the house, I noticed the shade that tree provided and looked up to the sky through the underside of those glorious leaves. I've been writing so much about green lately, and our yard has abundant green. So I laughed when I looked up through the shade of this tree and thought how wonderful it was to have colorful shade. 

I'm an ordinary guy, but I love color. (Except maybe on my plate). Unfortunately, that affection for color has sometimes drawn unwanted attention, like the green-and-orange plaid bell-bottomed suit I wore for Easter (when I had hair) or the red and yellow Hawaiian jammers I wore on campus (when I used to wear swimsuits) or madras shirts and striped pants and lots of other clothing choices.

I mean if you have to choose, you might as well go for bold. Maybe I'm not so ordinary after all!

I missed blogging yesterday. I was empty, exhausted.

But I have been invaded with hope, embraced with hope, saturated with hope.

This hope did not come from within me. 

The hope came as a wave from a chorus of encouragers. The hope came as a lifeline from cancer survivors. The hope came listening to Dr. Thompson review the recent PET scan. The hope came from the scriptural affirmation of divine love for all of God's family, no one is excluded.

Whenever we need it most, we are baptized with hope, invited to feast at hope's table.

Not only does green grow in the cracks, hope blooms there too. 

I'm caught in the fatigue. My strength seems not to have diminished. But I have virtually no energy. The last three days have been the most challenging. Don't get me wrong, I'm doing "mostly good". I don't mean to complain.

I know it's just the chemicals that are creating my physical reaction to the treatment. And it will pass with time.

I'm glad there is only one more infusion treatment, and it is three weeks away.

But each recovery period seems to get longer and deeper. Nothing to do but wait it out. 

But it steals my ability to focus, and imagine, and plan, and do. Caught.

Saturday morning I awoke to see two moving vans parked in front of my house. The neighbors across the street were moving. They had a lease to purchase arrangement that apparently didn't work out for either party. Still, it was surprising to see the moving vans because I thought they intended to stay. The effects of the coronavirus has made getting acquainted with the neighbors challenging. We've had very few conversations. We did take cookies over for Christmas. The husband worked on swimming pools and replaced my circulating pump this winter, and I had other pool projects in mind with warmer temperatures. But they are gone, and left the welcome sign behind. The high school senior who lived here is supposed to graduate next Friday. I grieve for their changes.

I moved a lot growing up. And shortly, also, after my graduation from high school. And I spent too many Mays packing to move to a new pastoral appointment in June. I think of all those who have transitions approaching.

I'm reminded too of all those around the world on the move, escaping war, and famine, and disease, and oppression. So much is left behind. I grieve for all I left behind. But I treasure the memories of friends, and shared meals, and laughter. I would have taken the welcome sign with me!