May 2024 Story Sparks

Traveling Mercies

A fourth hummingbird nest has appeared at our little coach in Rancho Mirage. Three other nests with two eggs each have clutched their little families until the juveniles flew off. This one is just outside the slider glass door, beneath a sun awning, on the patio, claiming a spot on the metal loop. I’ve been looking up what hummingbirds in one’s life means. “Joy. Healing. Someone somewhere is thinking kind thoughts about you.” The mythology is lovely. The other day as I walked Rupie, another dog walker came toward me. “Do you know you have a hummingbird following you?” I hadn’t but when I stopped to chat with her, the bird hovered then found a branch to sit on before flying off. Was it one of “our” birds or just one meandering along the trail? We have a high school friend staying here this summer. She’ll keep the feeders filled and give us updates on the status of this family. But as I load the car to head back north to Oregon, it’s a lift to consider that four hummingbird families have found their way to our home. One article I read said that hummingbirds are spiritual messengers. Today I’ll let them represent their hope for traveling mercies as we re-enter the Northwest from the desert.

Bishop, California

We reached Bishop, home of Mule Days that Jerry always threatened to attend when we had mules tearing at our ranch’s grass. It’s also where our former Moro pastor and family lived before coming to Moro. Every-time we’re in Bishop I think of them and text and get traveling mercies in return. It’s a beautiful town in the shadow of the Sierras. Snow topped peaks. Spectacular. We found a hotel for our first night out and that’s when I realized I’d left our “dog sheet” at home. Rupie sleeps on our bed so not having a “dog sheet” was troubling. I’d never keep him off the hotel bed. I checked the local stores and the Dollar Store was both still open and but a five minute walk away. So off Rupie and I went. But when we arrived the doors were locked. Through the window, I could see the tablecloth I wanted to buy. But no luck. We walked back and passed a mini-mart. Maybe they had something that would work. We went in and I explained my dilemma. “The Dollar Store is open,” a man said. I explained that I’d been there and it was locked up. “Angie must have staffing problems tonight,” he mused. Small towns know everything. I engaged the three clerks in my problem. “A piece of cardboard? An oversized Mylar balloon I could lay flat?” Then the male clerk said, “Follow me.” We headed outside…to his car where he opened the trunk and handed me a brand new dog paws blanket. “I have seven rescue dogs at home. I knew I’d have something that would work.” I offered to pay for it but he declined. I’ll pass it on and every time we use it will remember this act of kindness in Bishop, California.

Country Wisdom

Essayist and country wisdom-sharer Wendell Berry once wrote about parenting as something that was “a vexed privilege and a blessed trial.” I think about that when I see parents handling restive children or consider pregnant mothers dealing with wretched morning sickness. It goes with the the territory but it isn’t easy. With all due respect to Mr. Berry, I’d like to extend his graceful wisdom to a fine description of aging. It’s a privilege to have gotten this age weathering the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” (Shakespeare’s definition of aging?). My sister who died at 55 never had the privilege of watching her seven grandchildren grow up. But for we who are older, it’s vexing, too, a word that means “difficult to deal with showing distress and worry.” Being vexed is often an arrow that has another person as a target. One can only hope that arrow misses it’s mark more often than not and we go on to celebrate the privileges. It’s the blessed trial that really resonates with me these days of caregiving. It’s so easy to be defeated with challenges large and small, to let the trials become the high points rather than the blessings. This week closed a long chapter in a strange medical billing issue going on for more than 12 years I’d been dealing with for Jerry. Yes, 12! I wrote so many letters my copies could wallpaper a room. I was always grateful that I wasn’t a single mom working two jobs AND trying to resolve this insurance morass. Then last week, trying again to get a handle on it and speaking with 9 different people at the insurance company, at long last I got a call. From that insurance company. This man listened to my problem and then he did exactly what I needed: sent a letter where it needed to go with a copy to me. He was gracious, apologetic for the time this issue has been rolling around, and followed through. What a trial it had been. But he restored my faith in humanity, large corporations and the government entity that was the third party. There’s the blessing. As we age, those blessings may take longer to come to some resolution, but perseverance pays off. My hope this month is to focus on the privilege and the blessings and not the vexing trials.

My sister’s oldest son Shawn, a friend Sandy, me, Jerry and Shawn’s wife Michelle in Mexico.
My sister never had the privilege of such a gathering.

Mental Health Month

In May, I think about Dorothea Dix. She lived in the early 1800s, came from a challenged childhood with a religious extremist father, an unavailable mother and a severe grandmother with whom she lived. She went on to write legislation throughout the states that she couldn’t even testify about because she was a woman. It’s said she sat outside the House chambers and when legislators came out into the hall that she wanted to talk to she used a button hook to grab them so she could bend their ears about the needs of the mentally ill. I chronicled her story in One Glorious Ambition: The Compassionate Crusade of Dorothea Dix. She did everything she could to get the mentally ill out of jails where they languished and into treatment. I’m a fervent believer in the power of one to make a difference and she did! But she also knew how to engage others in her cause. Her story is fitting for this month when we pay attention to what’s happening in the world of mental health. Are you being urged to do something that seems like a tiny drop of water into a lake? Dorothea Dix can water your soul.

My First Novel and What Became of it

If you’re looking for a novel approach to writing (pun intended) this is the book for you! My First Novel and What Became of it: The Novelists of ChiLibris, shares Inspirational stories from some of the best-selling authors of Christian novels sharing what happened to their first novels. Yes, the story behind my A Sweetness to the Soul is in there along with a whole lot more happy endings and thwarted beginnings.

Events 🗓
Look for Jane in Eastern Oregon on June 5th.
Thoughts on Resilience

10:30am at the Senior Center located at 204 N. McHaley Street Prairie City, Oregon.
Painted Sky Center for the Arts

5:30pm at the Painted Center for the Arts located at 116 NW Bridge St. John Day, Oregon 97845 Ste 9, where she’ll talk about story inside art with a book signing to follow.

Word Whisperings

As The Sky Begins to Change
Poems, by Kim Stafford
Red Hen Press, 2024

Kim is the founding director of the Northwest Writing Institute at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, OR. I’ve highlighted another of his several books, 100 Tricks Any Boy Can Do: How My Brother Disappeared which was so helpful for those grieving a suicide. He’s a former poet laureate as was his father, William Stafford, about whom he also wrote a book. His words are gentle, illuminating, offering singular looks into the world which is what a good poet does. I once spoke with him about my dream of developing a Story Center on the reservation I worked on because if people there were involved in sports, there were lots of activities but not so much for the arts. And yet creativity abounds. But my energy got diverted and later I said I couldn’t see my way forward right then. His gracious response was “Sometimes you have to live the story and write about it later.” I loved that permission to not have to do everything I might want to do. “Kim Stafford is a priest and poet, a songwriter and philosopher,” wrote a writer and endorser James Crews. He says it best. As I work on revisions for my latest novel, I open my writing day with reading one of Kim’s poems from this book. Inspirational and calming. They silence the vexing voices that invade. I think those poems might work for your vexing voices too.

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Now that we’re back in Oregon, I’m missing those flying jewels drinking from the feeders. When I finish the edits, I’ll reward myself with a hummingbird feeder placed right outside our Redmond window. I hope you’ll find ways to treat yourself as a project of whatever kind gets finished. Focus on the privilege and the blessings. I’ll be working on that myself. Here’s a verse from Kim’s poem For the Bird Singing Before Dawn.

“Some people presume to be hopeful
with no evidence for hope,
to be happy when there is no cause.
let me say now, I’m with them.”
Have a good summer,

P.S. I often get requests from those wishing a book list of my titles. Incidentally, Wikipedia has some errors. Visit my Bibliography webpage for the real scoop.