Tag: flowers

The Dogwood Named “Dawson”

Posted on by lauraanneayres

Bärli,

Miracles happen daily. Hourly. Every minute, in fact.

A seed takes root in the ground, only to become a plant that provides a habitat for a butterfly’s egg. The egg hatches into a caterpillar, which then forms a chrysalis before transforming into a glorious butterfly.

Babies are born every minute, around this great, big, boundless world. I will never forget being pregnant, feeling you kick, looking down, and seeing the heel of your little foot. I can attest to the fact that there is something quite miraculous about the entire process of a creation.

Here’s a story of a tree, wrapped in a miracle. Possibly a miracle wrapped in a tree?

Dogwood trees are a special gift to this world. Producing beautiful blossoms that form the shape of the cross, I know not if the legend of the Dogwood is true or false. I do know the blossoms speak deeply to my faith. I see the shape of the cross, the red-tipped petals, and the yellow points at the core as being one of many ways that God calls out through Nature, “I am with you, always.” I have worn a dogwood and a cross around my neck, every day, for as long as I can remember.

For my birthday, Momma gave me a dogwood for our home. The Vaughans hail from the land of the dogwoods, Virginia. We love our native Texas trees, but our hearts will always hold a special love for the dogwood because of our family and faith roots.

We planted this dogwood and began envisioning its name (another tradition). I knew the name on Tuesday, May 14th at 9:00AM, after a prayer service. There was no other name for this precious tree. It symbolized new birth, new hope, God’s image – Dawson.

Early in the morning, on May 26th, Dallas was hit with a terrible storm. Winds reached well over 50mph, hail was thrown against our windows, tornado sirens sounded, our house shook. I was terrified for our tree. I couldn’t sleep,

I spent much of that early morning, speaking to Dawson, through the window. Unable to control myself, I went briefly outside. Yes, there I was leaning into the “tree hugger” stereotype, in the middle of a tornado watch. Dawson was going through Hell, but Dawson was damn sure not alone.

Sure enough? Eventually, the sun rose over Dallas, brutally damaged in many places in our neighborhood. Majestic, centuries-old oak trees uprooted. Windows shattered. So much damage.

Dawson? Maybe a few leaves.

The “why” behind some of the things that happen still baffles my faithful heart. Why does one house remain intact, while the house next door disappears? Why do the storm’s winds break through one window with almost pinpoint precision and leave untouched our own home’s taped-up one? Why does this vulnerable, weak, precious little tree make it? Why? Also, why the storm?

The stronger tree next to Dawson, Dawson was planted within the strength of its canopy, had a large turquoise ribbon around it and Dawson had a small one, I am convinced it helped protect Dawson. It, too, has a turquoise ribbon around its broad, wide trunk, with the initials “AH” and “AH” written on it. The strength of the bigger tree was miraculous. The prayers, whispered through a window that didn’t crack, were miraculous. Every tree, every moment, every child is miraculous.

But, Dawson just might be more miraculous than most.

Remembering a great lady – Bibiana Marie Longauer

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I don’t believe anyone should be forgotten.

In this age of google searching, blog posting, tattoo-brandishing, and even hash tag creating…it pains my heart to think someone I admire would be forgotten because she is not alive to warrant a hash tag.

In Luzern lived a lady, Bibiana Longauer.

She was an amazing lady – one of those people changing the corner she lived in.

Or so I hear.

I never met her. She was quite ill by the time her name was first said in my presence. Since that time, years ago, there is a small part of me that feels I know the woman whose pig collection now lives in my flat. I aspire to be like her and to make a real and lasting difference in the lives of others.

Let me break down this woman’s timeline (as well as I can). She was born in 1946 somewhere near or in Bratislava on June 7th. I like to know on which day of the week someone was born and little BML was born on a Friday. She died on July 21, 2010. That was a Wednesday.

She carried with her a doctorate in pharmacology. In 1970 or so, she and her then husband carried their little one to Luzern. She dedicated her life to empowering women, helping the helpless, and making her community better and stronger. Literally. She used her life to make other people healthier and stronger: (what was) revolutionary methadone treatment, political involvement on behalf of struggling mothers and young women, encouragement of homeopathy in a meat & potato culture, and preaching fitness. The woman introduced Stevia to try to cut back on Aspartame use, she opened the door before opening hours and kept it open after closing time, “not an option” was better said “let’s try something else.”

The woman was a light bringer.

As I noted, she loved pigs, modern art alongside furniture draped in classic, rich fabrics. People say she was generous, but kept both eyes and an extra third one on finances. Her friendship rainbow embraced a multitude of socio-economic and educational backgrounds. Was her service a job or a ministry? No one feels quite certain, but most think it was 30%-70% in favor of her faith. They say she loved music, sunshine, fresh flowers. I could go on and on about what she did well because I collect the stories like pieces of a patchwork quilt. She wasn’t perfect, no one is. But her life makes a lovely quilt.

By a strange circumstance, during one of her last days of work at the Pharmacy, Dr. Longauer helped one of my American friends who was living in Luzern at the time. We found the receipt and he told me the story in December of 2011. I love stories about BML and I wish I knew more.

Every week, I go to her grave. I usually sing the Bruder Klaus prayer or one verse of Ave Maria, I light a candle in the memory box, and I place a fresh flower…music, light, flower. Three of her favorite things.

None should be forgotten. Just because time moves on, we should remember everyone. AND it’s important to tell the loved ones. “I remember her.” It makes a person feel better when others remember his lost loved one. He feels less alone in his loss.

Remember someone today and write to his or her family or to your friends on Facebook or create a hashtag. I don’t care. Just remember.

Especially the good ones like #BML of Bratislava and Luzern.