Life can be peaceful in rural Missouri

Yesterday I sat on the front porch of a little house in the historic town of Leopold, Missouri. The air smelled like summer turning to fall, and the birds were singing, the sun was shining. It was a peaceful moment.
I was in Leopold to put the lockbox on a little house that I am selling there as a Realtor, and doing a few things to help the seller have the house ready to sell.

As I sat on the front step, I thought about what it would be like to live there. My dog, Cleo, was with me, and she was making friends with the neighbor's male daschund. The two of them were sniffing each other and jumping all over the front yard. She was enjoying being with a dog her own size, instead of the 80 pound brother she has at home.
 
The 1.4 acres of land was mowed and smelled sweet. I thought, I could be here, live here, feel at peace here. There is a historic church just down the road built in the late 1800's. I can see its spire from my spot on the front porch; it is lovely and I want to tour the inside of it. The schools here have won awards. There is a small general store that looks like it tries to meet the needs of its community.
 
I am sure that I could get to know people here easily, and I already have one friend that lives here. It felt a little like going back in time, when we were not so concerned about the digital age,(even though I checked and my cell phone did have great coverage there on the porch). And it made me think of all the places in the world to which I have travelled, where the focus is on taking life easier, going slower, and developing relationships instead of just getting business done.
 
History Lesson: In 1856, Reverend John van Luytelaar established Vinemount, Missouri when he and 12 other families went looking for farm land. These families traveled down the Ohio River and up the Mississippi River by boat to Cape Girardeau and then found the community of Vinemount. Other families followed them and the community was starting to unfold. Some of these families were unable to make the pioneer life and left back for Cincinnati after two years of living here. In 1894 the first post office was built to serve the town of Vinemount. In the process of building the post office, they realized there was already a post office in Missouri by the name of Vinemount. This was when a name change was in order. The people then decided on the name of "Leopolis" (City of Leo), in honor of the Pope. This name was rejected and the present name, Leopold, was then proposed and accepted.

Interesting Facts: St. John’s Catholic Church, located on Main Street in Leopold, was built in 1899. Work began in the spring and the church was built in pure Gothic style from native limestone found around and near the town. Parishioners of St. John’s did most of the work on the church themselves. In May 1944, the Shrine of Our Lady Queen of Peace was dedicated to the members of the parish who were serving in the armed forces. Children of the community were asked to find the stones used to construct the shrine. After the shrine was built, evening Rosaries were said for those serving in the armed forces. The prayers for the safe return of the service men and women have worked, for not one member of the armed forces who lives in the Leopold parish has failed to return home alive.

Sometimes, it is meaningful to take a moment and appreciate the history of a place. I wonder why life was so hard for some of those early families that made them return home to Cincinnati and I could imagine the pioneers working hard on the land, creating farms for food and commerce. I wonder what the families that stayed saw when they looked around their new community, and how they conceived of building a limestone Gothic church in this remote newly adopted home.

Check out my listing on www.homesbyreno.com or www.semohousehunter.com or www.houseviewonline.com
Maybe you will find the same peaceful experience I did.




 
 

Sitting Under a Mango Tree....

Talking to you, baby...

My love affair with Africa started many moons ago. I have often sat under a mango tree in Africa, and in limited Bantu language/English combo have "communicated" with an Africa woman while we cut up tomatoes or sorted through beans, whether it has been Kenya, Malawi or Zambia. Just sitting there in the quiet rural setting, without the usual "noise" of our western life, I feel a peace and contentment that I rarely find in North America. And a sense of sisterhood with this quiet dark-skinned woman who has let me into her space to perform a job that gives her a chance to sit down for a few minutes. Sometimes we laugh ourselves silly as we communicate or try to, but the laughter is healing, and joyful.  

Why is it that you can go completely out of your comfort zone in a country that is totally foreign to your own, and have such a joyful experience? Once, when I was staying in a village in Malawi, I woke up at 2 am, and needed to use the pit latrine, which meant a walk at night from my hut through the maize field across the yard and behind the volunteer teacher house. I went and did my business, and as I was walking back I woke up enough to take a look at my surroundings. Not a sound except for some night bugs chirping softly. It was bright enough to see where I was walking, so I looked up and instead of the moon, I gazed up into the milky way. I held my breath, I was mesmerized. Above my head a ribbon of stars seemed so very close that I felt I had only to lift my hand and I would touch it. It was a sight I had only ever seen in glossy coffee table books, where scientists take photos of the sky with special telescopic cameras. I stood there for over 20 minutes, just soaking in the sight above me. The lack of light pollution gave me a mind-blowing experience that I still remember 15 years later.

Another time, I came back to the girls high school that I had started in Chamama, Malawi, and was greeted by women dancing and singing in Chichewa. They drew me in to dance with them, and although I knew not the words or the steps, I gave in to the pure delight of being included in this cultural event. I found myself instinctually knowing not only the movement as I was caught up in the dance, but understanding that this was to celebrate a harvest.

When arriving at a friend's house in a rural area of Malawi, I went to bed early because of jet lag. Before settling on my pillow, I looked out the window to see the village children gathering to join together in the early evening, singing in perfect harmony, clapping in perfect rhythm, and dancing by joining together their feet in a perfect circle and hopping round and round and round. I went to sleep with the surreal joyful sound in my ear.

Some day I will tell you the story of how I came to have 4 African-born grandchildren. But for now, maybe I will plant a mango tree in my backyard. Will anyone join me if I sit under it to sort beans for supper?

So sorry.. But it came to pass.....

 If I have offended anyone in the past year, I am sorry and I apologize.

My favorite Bible verse this year is Matthew 26:1 "And it came to pass..." By the way, that phrase, "and it came to pass..." is used 396 times in the King James translation of the Bible. Why is this my favorite? Because it did not come to stay.

This past year, since last June, has been an extremely difficult year for our family in so very many different ways that I cannot and will not describe here. Suffice it to say, this has been the year from you know where....okay, I will say it....the year from hell.

When I was nineteen, I almost died without knowing why. Only because I pushed a car out of a ditch were the doctors able to diagnose my life-threatening congenital heart defect and give me a new plastic aorta through open-heart surgery.

I would have that horrible surgery all over again just to take out all the bad parts of the last year...and throw them back to you know where. Don't make me say it again.

So I am apologizing to all the people who know me to say that if I was curt, short, snappy, argumentative, stressed, rude, forgetful, or anything else in that vicinity, I am so sorry if I offended you in any way. I have cried, yelled, screamed, wept bitter tears, panicked, paced, and some days put on a plastic public face. Most of that I have done behind closed doors, occasionally on a friend's shoulder, more often in my husband's arms, or on the road in my car. My dog Cleo has just quietly shadowed me without being overly affectionate, knowing somehow my boundaries for her needs this year.

Canadians (and Canada is where I was born), have a tendency to say "I'm sorry", instead of "Excuse me" like the Americans do. There is almost an inherent tendency in our frozen DNA to apologize for existing. I know this drives some of my American friends up the wall, but Canadians have it down to an art form. In fact, one relative (through marriage) was so upset, because I said "I apologize..." for whatever I had done, again! instead of saying "I am sorry..." that she did not talk to me for two years. Or was it the other way around? I forget now, but either way, I was wrong and I had not verbally atoned enough to satisfy her wronged soul.

In my work, I deal with hurt people, victims of crime, many with painful stories that tear me up inside. If nothing else, this past year has helped me look beyond their crude language, their acting out, their vulgar attitudes, to try to see the hurting person underneath. Sometimes I find one, and sometimes I don't. If I do, then I can use my knowledge and experience of how I felt with my terrible year to encourage them to do the next right thing, to make good decisions that will affect their lives and even the lives of their children. My psychologist friend will say that I am talking to myself and I most probably am.

So it came to pass. June 15 is hopefully the end of the worst year of my life....I am hoping for some really really good news on that day. Someone I love will have a great new job OR I will get a raise OR Someone will discover me as an artist or a writer and will offer me to travel all expenses paid while I get to do something wildly creative for them OR a huge amount of money will come in to fund the schools in Malawi and Zambia that I am working with OR my family will just have a wonderfully quiet peaceful year. No drama, no tragedies, no life-threatening illnesses, no crimes, no fortunes lost, no loss of jobs. Just quiet zen-like peace.

If that doesn't happen, I am truly sorry.



 

Travelling the world

This is my first blog. I have entitled it "Live with Passion" (in Portuguese it's viva com paixao), my philosophy of life in a nutshell. I want to keep you informed about some things that are going on in my life, and give you my particular point-of-view on the world.

We often have had riders come through our former motorcycle shop on their way to somewhere. To South America, Mexico, parts of the US, Europe, and even Mongolia. Each of these people has a bit of fire in their eyes, the passion of far-away places. They are anticipating what will be around the next corner, the next curve, the next vista.

Since I have done that type of travelling, I find myself getting emotional when these people leave us. I know they will have good days and bad days, days of joy, excitement, and days of hard work and bad weather. But they will be living on the edge, using their skills to see new sights, to bravely go where no one has gone before - well, at least not where they have gone before.

Last summer we met with a few hundred other Beemer riders at the BMW Bash at The Hub, a motorcycle resort 7 miles south of Harrison, Arkansas. This was a group of people who love the BMW motorcycle and who love to ride. (Only 2 trailers, and both for very good reasons.) Many of these people have ridden hard, as in the Iron Butt Rally; some have ridden far, and won awards for high mileage; and many have travelled to another state, another country, and experienced new roads.

I think it is time for me to share some of my stories of life and travel and how my love to move around in this world has changed me....storytime.