Friday Tidings

Mom bought the small, solid wooden desk because in her 600 square-foot cabin, small was essential. But she made sure it had a good writing surface and roomy drawers. After her death, we moved the desk to our house. It held my first business computer and kept my business papers neat. After that, our young elementary-aged daughter used it for art projects—neatly stowing away her supplies in its drawers. A few years later, we moved from our home to Mom’s cabin and back the desk came. My son used it for homeschool. During college, my daughter needed a desk and off it went. When she graduated, back to the cabin it came. Then, a few summers ago, my son used it again as he strategized his new tour business. When Covid closed schools, we moved the desk to my grandson’s room as he studied from home. Recently the desk came back to the cabin. Being small never diminished its usefulness and perhaps even made it easier to help each of us when we needed it.  Mom never knew how much her de...

We often pass the twosome along the shoreline, waving each time. The older woman uses a sturdy walking stick and always wears a sweet smile. Her faithful old Labrador plods by her side.  When we stopped to watch the fog rise above the water, the Labrador took this as an invitation to slowly wander over for a friendly hello. We quickly made a new canine friend and introduced ourselves to her sweet-smiling owner—who has walked this beach for 30 years. Bee, the Lab, used to walk faster, but at ten-years-old, only her happy tail still moves fast. My grandma liked to remind me that if I lived long enough I’d be old one day. She said being respectful to the elderly was more than kindness, it was an honor they deserved.  Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve noticed that as our culture celebrates youth, it’s easier to miss the wealth of truth held by those much older. We risk losing a perspective that was hard-earned. Yes, Grandma, you were right about many things. It just took me gett...

While hiking in Northern Idaho, I came across this BEWARE sign in a place where it is quite possible to find a bear enjoying a huckleberry patch, or a moose grazing in a nearby meadow. Cougars prefer crouching in the trees overhead. The sign is appropriate. Keep your eyes open and be aware. But sometimes I’ll be watching out for the obstacles ahead on the path, and then trip on a tree root while taking my next step.  Life is like that too—looking too far ahead and missing what’s right in front of you. It’s not just being aware of obstacles, it’s being aware of the opportunities.  Sometimes I am so concerned about all that could go wrong down the path, that I miss all the good right in front of me. So, I should beware, but not so wary that I miss the best of right now.

It’s probably too big for our small cabin, but we wanted to honor the creators—my mom, the designer, and my grandmother the hooked rug maker. With my mom’s love of Native American art, she drew the creatures living near the family cabin in Northern Idaho—the beavers, bear, the eyes of the cougars above the eagle’s wings. There are even depictions of the freshwater trout—the first fish I ever caught in the cold waters of Upper Priest Lake. The date on the rug is 1974. It hung on the wall in the old family cabin for decades. I admired it back when it was finished, now I find it touches my heart even more. I recently brought it home—it traveled from one cabin to another. Mom would probably smile knowing her art work is here. Grandma would too—she and Grandpa helped build this cabin. I guess you could say we’re a cabin-loving family. It’s a family legacy that I can now enjoy every day. It’s fitting that it has a new home, even if it’s big—because some legacies become larger and more tr...