It’s been a while since I’ve posted updates of our home building project here in Augusta County, Staunton, Virginia.Because of the current virus distancing protocols, we haven’t been able to visit the site as often as we had previously. But, this afternoon, The Redhead and I met with our builder and went over a few remaining details and got an up close look at all the progress that has been made these past few weeks. What a change!
Most of the heavy work has been completed. The rear deck is awaiting stairs and the stairs to basement and attic will be finished shortly. Plumbing fixtures will be installed soon as will be the granite counter tops and kitchen cabinet doors. The Hickory wood floors have all been installed and are in the process of getting a final sanding before the finish is added. But, it really has come together.
Two features that we think will be very beneficial are ceiling fans in almost every room and the addition of interior insulation. Both features will help in maintaining comfortable temperatures year-round and the insulation of the interior walls will also help to reduce noise between rooms. I’ll update on this after we have settled in for a while.
Now, come along and take a peek at what will soon be our new home.
So, there you are. Work on the house is now going full-steam ahead. Closing may be very late this month or possibly the beginning of June. The lock-downs have caused a bit of a slow down with personnel and the material supply chain. But, all seems well now.
The Redhead and I are going to have our work cut out for us in landscaping the yards, planting shrubs, etc. Any volunteers??
Personally, I can’t wait to set up my workshop in the spacious basement and get back to reviving American vintage furniture. It’s been several years since I’ve mixed my varnishes and stains and used my glues, clamps and brushes. Let’s hope I’ve retained some of my Redeux Vintage Furniture skills!
A special thanks to all of our friends and “family of the heart” that have kept us in their prayers. Without your support and prayers, tonight’s blog may have been a different story. And, thanks to St. Padre Pio, your intercession has never failed.
We are now past the one month mark since the United States began declaring a state of emergency regarding what is known as Covid-19 or the Wuhan Flue.
Government officials and health “experts” have given varied and sometimes conflicting information to the public. For those that are eager to have a better understanding of the Covid-19 virus pandemic, one that is free of political or monetary motivation and based on science, it can be difficult to find knowledgeable, unbiased sources. It is also especially difficult to find someone that is knowledgeable about which practical and sound measures can be taken to cope with this pandemic, both as individuals and as a nation. Obviously, I am referring here to the response of the United States, but the same or similar measures might be used by a number of countries, depending on several variables. Fortunately, there are two sources that are now gaining more attention based upon their real expertise and experience.
Both of these sources were recently interviewed on television. Yes, these interviews were on Mark Levin’s, Life, Liberty and Levinprogram, but I sincerely ask that those of you that may dismiss anything coming from Fox, please give this your attention. Mark Levin has shown himself to be a knowledgeable, able and respectful interviewer.
If we are to emerge from this pandemic bruised, but not broken, we must have a better grasp of the facts: what should be done to protect ourselves from the sickness and what must be done to protect our nation from a catastrophe we can not even begin to imagine. While there may be some that wouldn’t mind pushing us a little further to the edge, I believe – and pray – that the overwhelming majority of us want the best for our families, our neighbors and our country.
There is a saying, “Knowledge is Power“. But really, “Knowledgeable Action is Power“. We need to get the knowledge and then proceed.
In April, 2006, I flew to Madrid, Spain to be with my son and daughter-in-law following the still–born death of their daughter, my first grandchild. It was Holy Week.
There are some sorrows that only can be described as profound; ones that leave you speechless and empty. Or, sometimes, in rage. This death, this loss of a purely innocent life, was such a sorrow. In the midst of this ancient city, I asked God to be with me, to help me understand and to save me from bitterness.
As Good Friday night fell, I walked through the narrow, darkened streets from my son’s apartment back to my hotel. Through the Plaza Mejor and down the winding Calle de Atocha, I suddenly found myself within a mass of people. Everyone was emptying the narrow street and moving onto the sidewalk. I had no choice but to move with them until I was able to find a small spot just across the street from Parroquia de Santa Cruz, the Church of the Holy Cross. The street outside of the church was filled with a formation of white robed, black-hooded figures carrying lit torches. I had never seen anything like this, but being American it conjured up unsettling images; I truly did not know what to expect.
Suddenly, the church doors opened. Another robed, hooded figure, carrying a large staff, appeared in the church doorway. He banged his staff on the steps and the robed column in the street came to attention. Another tap of his staff and he and the procession behind him started to move from the church toward the street below. This group was similarly robed and hooded and was carrying a platform supported by long poles. Atop this platform was a statue, but, because of the darkness, I could not determine of whom. The procession came to a halt in the street and the platform was lowered. After a few minutes and some prayers (spoken in Spanish, of course) the leader tapped the staff once. The figures lifted the platform to waist height. Another tap and the platform went to shoulder height. No other sound could be heard along the entire street. Two taps more and the procession started toward Plaza Mejor. Of the statue, all I could determine was that it was clad in black.
Most of the crowd waited in front of the church, Santa Cruz. With nothing waiting for me except a silent hotel room, I, too, stayed, unsure of what for. The tap of the processional leader’s staff could be heard echoing through those dark and still silent streets, first sounding more and more distant and then becoming closer. Whatever was coming, it was coming soon. Gradually, flickering torch light could be seen at the far end of Atocha, approaching our position in front of the church. I took out my camera and moved into a position to better see what was being carried by these silent, dark-robed, anonymous marchers. Perhaps it was the expectation, but through the absolute silence that filled the street I could feel something welling up inside of me. Fear, sadness, grief? I was not sure.
And, then it, rather she, was there. Atop this heavy wooden platform was a life-sized figure of the Blessed Virgin, depicted as the Mother of Seven Sorrows, adorned in black velvet with silver threading. Into the church she was carried. I moved on, but knowing something had happened that I could not express, even within myself.
The following day, returning back to my son’s apartment, I again entered Calle Atocha knowing I would go into the church and see the statue up close. On the steps of the church, against the wooden doors, sat two beggars, gypsies, actually. I had been cautioned about gypsies, but their presence did not concern me. Inside, I found an alcove, enclosed by an iron gate, in which was the statue I saw the night before.
I have been a Catholic my entire life and have seen thousands of statues and religious icons of every sort. But this, this was no ordinary statue. Beyond the absolutely stunningly beautiful garments was the face. The face of Mary. A face of unspeakable sorrow, a face of grief so profound and complete that it could only be brought about by the death of a purely innocent child. She took my grief onto herself. But, something else would happen that will stay with me – forever.
Call it imagination. Or transference. But, on the way out of the church I took closer notice of the two beggar/gypsy women. One was older than the other and I would later learn that they were mother and daughter. I gave each a small coin and went to my family. Later that afternoon, returning to the hotel, I again came to the church. The women were still there, sitting against the doors, bundled against the chilly spring wind. A quick visit inside and on the way out, as I passed them, I noticed their faces. The mother was perhaps 40. The daughter – I had to turn around and go back to view the Blessed Mother. Outside, again, it was true what I had thought. The faces were the same. Several days of visits further confirmed this. After about a week, my daughter-in-law asked to go for a walk. Of course, we went to the church that was only about a 10 minute stroll from her home. The women, as expected, were again on the church steps, their “spot”. I mentioned to my daughter-in-law my observation about the younger girl.
A week or so later, before returning back home, I asked that my daughter-in-law accompany me to the church to say a prayer – for healing, both emotional and physical. After our prayers I asked that she, since she was a native Spanish speaker, interpret something for me to the women. I explained how I was struck by the similarities in the faces and how interesting it was that it was this particular church, with that particular statue, that they chose to be close to. They agreed to have their pictures taken (something that is very unusual for them). The girl was, Magdalena.
Two years later, when my daughter-in-law had to return to Madrid for business, she paid a visit to Santa Cruz. There was Magdalena. She asked if I was there, too. When told no, I was back in the U.S., she got up and went into the church. When she came back out she handed my daughter-in-law a picture and said, “I will never forget your father”. The picture was a photo of the statue and the faces are still identical.
That Easter of 2006 was, indeed, a Holy Week. And I will always remember to look closely at what is in front of me. It just may be a face from heaven.
For those that are suffering or grieving this Easter, please know that you are remembered and not alone.
At 7:00 a.m. this morning there was a worldwide sharing of prayer for the end of the Corona Virus. Rather than being a sign of panic, this uniting in prayer is one more – and probably the best – weapon in our arsenal to defeat this sickness. If you missed this event, rest assured that millions upon millions of people are praying all the time for this scourge to end and we can join them at any time.
But, in addition to prayer, we can do something else with this quiet time we have been forced into.
How are we spending this time? For me, I have, for now, just about reached my limit with both Netflix and Amazon. The other day I attempted to find movies dealing with how people endured times of war. Not much luck – at least with finding decent movies that did not require additional fees. So much for watching the classic, Mrs. Miniver. Reading has always been a passion for me, but nearly all of our books have been packed in anticipation of our move. Thanks to our friend, MaryEllen, I do have a few that are still unread and were tucked under my nightstand. Whew!
Social distancing has certainly kept our personal contacts at a minimum.
But, many folks continue to check on family and neighbors however possible, even if it’s a text or phone call just to say, Hello, how are you, can I do anything for ya’? Small things go a long way.
Speaking of small things, one small but significant highlight for us is our cup of coffee. Usually, we’ll have one (maybe two) in the morning and later in the afternoon. We enjoy it and recently my doctor told me that coffee, in moderation, can be beneficial. Since Costco is off limits for us now, we no longer have access to their store brand of “100% Colombian” coffee. For what is termed, commodity coffee (basic), it’s pretty darn good and cheap. With all this new found time and the need to seek other sources, I’ve “discovered” two new favorites.
First, is a whole bean, Mocha Java coffee from Mayorga Roasters. It’s smooth and flavorful. It’s available in 2 pound bags from Amazon or directly from Mayorga. Our Second new favorite is an organic whole bean Honduran coffee available from Aldi. Pretty good and we’re glad we found it.
So, what’s your favorite coffee that you make at home? Let me know!
Pray, stay healthy, keep in touch and… Wake up and Smell the Coffee!
If you are, you have lots of company. Not since Y2K or was it the Bird Flue epidemic or maybe it was the AIDS epidemic has there been such widespread panic and fear among us.
Today, The Redhead and I went to the grocery store to stock up a bit since we had heard there was a run on basic staples such as food, medicines and “personal items”. There were plenty of groceries and produce at our local Martin’s Grocery. Some milk items were a bit sparse as was the bread aisle. But, no, nada, zilch of “le papier toilettes”, as the French would say. It was the same story at Walgreens, Food Lion and, believe it or not, Costco. Forget about investing in gold in case of the stock market going haywire. Put your moneyinto Charmin!
No doubt there will be lessons learned from this viral epidemic. But, until we learn the cause and the non-hyper facts, let’s try to keep a level head, protect ourselves and our families and have Faith. Everything will be alright.
In the meantime, a little dose of reality and pleasantness for you all.
Our house here in Staunton is coming along nicely. Since my last writing, the siding is being installed, the interior has been sheet rocked, the electricity has been turned on, the lines for the propane gas have been run and the ducts for heating and cooling have been installed. Preliminary grading of the landscaping has also begun this week.
Interior painting will start this coming Monday. The Redhead and I had fun picking our paint colors. We’re keeping it simple – one color for the common areas of living, dining laundry and sun rooms and another color for the bedrooms and baths. The extra-tall front door will benefit from Red’s long-standing wish of having a front door painted red.
Our flooring was delivered today and is “acclimating” in the garage. It is hickory wood of four and five inch widths and various lengths. The floor will be stained and finished “on site” by one of the last skilled craftsmen, working here in the Shenandoah Valley, who can provide a custom finish. Pre-finished flooring is now the “go to” product for most home builders.
We have also picked out our gas fireplace and logs. The logs will be a new hybrid mixture of special concrete and ceramic. The surround of the fireplace will be made by our builder, Eric Argenbright, who will also build our kitchen cabinets. The Redhead will truly be in her glory “starting” a fire with the push of a button.
All for now. As always, Comments, Likes and Follows always welcome!
no, make it most of the time, what I thought would happen, didn’t. In matters
of family, work, marriage, relocating – just about every aspect of my life has gone
not how I thought it would or should. Thank God!
those that read this blog that know me there is no sense in reciting all the
instances of this pattern of being turned topsy- turvey. You know most of them.
For other readers, who cares, right? So, let me just tell you about the here
and now and a bit of how it all happened.
years ago we – my beautiful Redhead and I – moved from Connecticut to
Jacksonville, Florida. We had checked it out before making the move and thought
this would be the beginning of a new life. It was; but, not as we had planned.
Heat is heat but Florida must be God’s preview of Hell. Only joking. A bit. But, an endless summer is not what we planned for the long term. Storms are storms but Florida hurricanes are something else. Snakes? Oh yeah! After four years (quick learners we are) we figured this might not have been our forever place. We explored both North and South Carolina. Nope. We explored and researched Tennessee. Hmmm, but no. And then, Virginia.
researched and visited the Staunton, Virginia area in July of 2018 and moved
here in November, 2018. We have been renting an apartment in nearby Waynesboro
while we explored the areas and sought just the right place to have our home. Let’s
just say it’s been an adventure.
were some days we thought something was wrong with us. We just couldn’t decide
where we wanted to live or what type of home would be right for us. And, when
we did come to a decision, it just didn’t work.
we prayed. Really prayed. Just asking God to let us know what He wanted us to
do. It’s funny how the Lord answers our prayers and puts everything into place.
Redhead was diagnosed with a serious medical condition. It had been missed in
Connecticut and in Jacksonville and initially here in Virginia. But, then it
was discovered and our world changed. Nothing mattered except my Redhead. And
then things began to happen. The Redhead was put under the care of some of the
best surgeons and medical people in the country. It has been a rough few months,
but the Redhead is going to be o.k. That was Part One of answered prayers. The Second
Part of our answer as to what we were supposed to do and where we should be was
through the love, concern, help and genuine friendship shown to us by our
friends here. They came from nearby and from miles away to bring food, flowers
and love to The Redhead. Never have we experienced anything like this. And then,
the early morning darkness of August 20th, I awoke, more restless
than troubled, I had been dreaming of what we should do about finding a home. Continue
renting? Maybe. I had no idea of what was about to happen.
prayed. To Jesus and His Mother, Mary. To St. Joseph. And to St. Padre Pio for
his continued special intercession. I felt the urge to check, once again, the
real estate listings -but only for land. Immediately, several parcels of land popped
up. They had been on the market for a while but we had never seen them, nor had
any of the 5 real estate agents we had been in contact with this past year plus
ever mentioned them.
Later that morning, a bit past dawn, I told The Redhead that there was some land we should take a look at. It was in the County, just outside Staunton city limits, no more than 15 minutes to the steps of our church, St. Francis of Assisi. We drove past mist-shrouded views of the Blue Ridge Mountains, passing rolling farmland and up a sloping gravel drive, past several signs showing several lots for sale. And, there it was. At the corner of two, short, cul-de-sacs, nestled among trees on higher ground…home. We knew it immediately. We called the name on the sign and the following day we met the agent/builder for this small cluster of homes. She explained the details and we told her our plans.
Next week space will be cleared for the foundation of our new house. We are… home. Prayers answered.