I started the new year exactly as I start every morning, reading the Word of God. On this day that many of us plan to start or revive something that will put us back on track, like exercising or dieting, it’s important to keep the good routines we have established. It’s important to keep God in His proper place...#1.
I read today, in 2nd Timothy, where Paul is telling Timothy to “fan into flames the spiritual gift God gave you” (NLT). This resonated in my own soul, as I, too, have heard similar words. Several years ago, I accompanied my daughter Robin and family to THE STOREHOUSE in Olympia for prayer. The first time, the lady who prayed with me asked God for insight and told me of the picture He gave her. She said I had a garden with plantings and a well-stocked gardening shed. I was to reach up on the top shelves for an item that needed to be used but was very dusty from neglect. In fact, there were several nice looking, dusty items on that top shelf. She said they were my spiritual gifts and I needed to dust them off and use them for the glory of God. They would help the garden to grow. God gave me these gifts and I have not used them to work at the plans He has for me. I left there convicted.
I don’t know what He wants me to do other than to be a help and encouragement to others on the journey. At times, I have started to write a book, but I realize I lack the discipline for such an endeavor. I have some sewing to finish up, some books to finish reading, and there’s always housework, dog chores, and exercise classes. I also get caught up in tasks for others I wish to bless, including volunteer work.
On a subsequent visit to THE STOREHOUSE the focus was more on my name and that I was a warrior for God and needed to fight the good fight with Him. I was also told that I was a seeker of truth. I could also identify with that....but I feel that I am still in a dusting mode of my spiritual gifts and I fear the one I neglect the most is my writing.
Lord, You can help me in this hour of searching. I am wondering about a venue for my writing...is it a book? Is it this blog? Is it letters of encouragement to others? I know we can do this together and I just need to listen more closely. I thank You for the message and memories Your Word in 2nd Timothy provided this morning. I know that as I read Your Word, You talk to me. I invite You to fill my thoughts and take them captive. Help me focus on others more and on myself less. Help me always focus through the lens of Your eyes and Your love. In Jesus name, Amen.
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Monday, September 26, 2016
Four Leaf Memories
Its the last week of September and time to start my morning walks with Belle. It was 71 degrees when I left the house and only 73 on my return so I did very well until a couple blocks from home when my hot flashes resumed and nearly took my breath away. I dragged into the yard dripping wet and feeling like I had run a marathon instead of walking a mile. (Yes, I am starting slow.)
What I had forgotten was the unexpected memories of my Dad that come upon me out of nowhere on my walks and soon we were walking together and singing. Dad was a great singer in that he would just belt it out no matter how it sounded. He taught us plenty of good songs and some funny ones on car trips to see Grandparents and Cousins. I often serenade Belle and anyone in listening distance when I walk or even just sit on the deck. I guess I do take after him in some ways.
Someone in the neighbor hood had seeded their yard and put up yellow tape around it. Of course, Belle wanted to pee on it. What I noticed amid the weeds, grass, and straw, was clusters of clovers and upon closer inspection...many four-leaf clovers! I wanted to run and tell my sisters, but even more than that, I wanted to pick some. Then came the song...."I'm looking over a four leaf clover, that I overlooked before....1st leaf is sunshine, the 2nd is rain...." Oh, what fun!
And you know that one memory will lead to another and I am at the dining room table on the farm making a poster for 4-H....drawing out a four-leaf clover...practicing square dancing with my club for the Variety Show At the NDSU Field House, which may have been called the Alex Nemzick Field House at the time...baking bread and sewing for the Red River Valley Fair demonstration exhibits. Ah, another world.
I thank you God for the good memories. I am glad I can never forget my Dad and would never even try.
What I had forgotten was the unexpected memories of my Dad that come upon me out of nowhere on my walks and soon we were walking together and singing. Dad was a great singer in that he would just belt it out no matter how it sounded. He taught us plenty of good songs and some funny ones on car trips to see Grandparents and Cousins. I often serenade Belle and anyone in listening distance when I walk or even just sit on the deck. I guess I do take after him in some ways.
Someone in the neighbor hood had seeded their yard and put up yellow tape around it. Of course, Belle wanted to pee on it. What I noticed amid the weeds, grass, and straw, was clusters of clovers and upon closer inspection...many four-leaf clovers! I wanted to run and tell my sisters, but even more than that, I wanted to pick some. Then came the song...."I'm looking over a four leaf clover, that I overlooked before....1st leaf is sunshine, the 2nd is rain...." Oh, what fun!
And you know that one memory will lead to another and I am at the dining room table on the farm making a poster for 4-H....drawing out a four-leaf clover...practicing square dancing with my club for the Variety Show At the NDSU Field House, which may have been called the Alex Nemzick Field House at the time...baking bread and sewing for the Red River Valley Fair demonstration exhibits. Ah, another world.
I thank you God for the good memories. I am glad I can never forget my Dad and would never even try.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Celebrating Uncle Will
When I was young, I thought Uncle Will was so exotic, like a South American with his dark hair and skin, his slow smile and deep,laugh. And so tall! I was so excited to be "picked" to help serve at their wedding. He was so handsome and Lynda was such a beautiful bride that I believe it was at that point I started dreaming of my own one day wedding. And, I was also drawn to tall, thin men.
Time went on and Lynda and Will had three kids. They lived an extremely exciting life in the Cities...at least it seemed like that to me, and I loved to go and visit. Those days are a little bit hazy but I remember the apartment with outdoor access through a window, I think....but lots of stairs to climb to get there.
There was a period of time during my first marriage when I was out of touch with family but the great thing about family is that one can magically appear after several years and everyone treats you the same, no explanations needed, hugged back into the fold. Well, that's exactly the way Lynda and Will were with everyone who came into their lives. Like an oasis in a desert, they extended a helping hand. In every situation.
I always admired Will for his ability to adapt and his sportsmanship. He went along with some things he may not have particularly picked or thoroughly enjoyed...because people he loved enjoyed them. He put others first. Even recently on a visit from Gayle and I he agreed to play some cards, but just a couple hands. Still, he did it.
When Will had become ill the first time, Jim and I were newly retired for the first time, too, and were in a position to help out. We came and stayed about three months while Will underwent treatments and eventually successful surgery. The plan was for Jim to help out with the business during this time and I thought I could be some help or company too, since Lynda was still working part-time.
Well, my sweet computer nerd engineer got to participate in puremidwest manual labor during a colder winter than Jim had ever experienced. The first day of work, before they even went outside, Will tried to define COLD for Jim. He told Jim, "When you get in the truck and the seats don't give, you know it's cold."
Uncle Will showed Jim the ropes and Jim was amazed at his strength. He said Will could fling big tractor tires like frisbies. After a bit, Lynda was Jim's partner on the route. When they came to the first tractor tire, Jim thought, oh no....this is gonna be tough. Lynda said no problem as she proceeded to stack regular tires. First a stack of three (about truck level), then two, then one and she just rolled that tractor tire up those tire steps. Jim was impressed.
Will and Jim enjoyed watching some TV together in the evenings. We were already hooked on NCIS, like Will, but while we were there we got hooked on 24 and also enjoyed Boston Legal. In the truck and at home there we'd listen to Rush and sometimes Hannity. When we travel now we will still look for them on the radio.
Many of you may have heard stories about Belle, but in case you haven't, Belle is our Jack-Rat who came along in the McCullough package deal. We found out that she is a cancer-sniffing dog....at least that is our claim. She jumped up in Will's lap, sniffed his chest and layed down and stayed right there - day after day. However, after Will's surgery, Belle jumped up in his lap, took one sniff, and jumped back down. She didn't get up in his lap again.
Jim and I consider Lynda and Will as immediate family and their big hearts put together have been a huge powerhouse. We received the blessing of living life with them and we love them so much. I can't wait to join you in heaven one day, Uncle Will...farewell until then.
Time went on and Lynda and Will had three kids. They lived an extremely exciting life in the Cities...at least it seemed like that to me, and I loved to go and visit. Those days are a little bit hazy but I remember the apartment with outdoor access through a window, I think....but lots of stairs to climb to get there.
There was a period of time during my first marriage when I was out of touch with family but the great thing about family is that one can magically appear after several years and everyone treats you the same, no explanations needed, hugged back into the fold. Well, that's exactly the way Lynda and Will were with everyone who came into their lives. Like an oasis in a desert, they extended a helping hand. In every situation.
I always admired Will for his ability to adapt and his sportsmanship. He went along with some things he may not have particularly picked or thoroughly enjoyed...because people he loved enjoyed them. He put others first. Even recently on a visit from Gayle and I he agreed to play some cards, but just a couple hands. Still, he did it.
When Will had become ill the first time, Jim and I were newly retired for the first time, too, and were in a position to help out. We came and stayed about three months while Will underwent treatments and eventually successful surgery. The plan was for Jim to help out with the business during this time and I thought I could be some help or company too, since Lynda was still working part-time.
Well, my sweet computer nerd engineer got to participate in puremidwest manual labor during a colder winter than Jim had ever experienced. The first day of work, before they even went outside, Will tried to define COLD for Jim. He told Jim, "When you get in the truck and the seats don't give, you know it's cold."
Uncle Will showed Jim the ropes and Jim was amazed at his strength. He said Will could fling big tractor tires like frisbies. After a bit, Lynda was Jim's partner on the route. When they came to the first tractor tire, Jim thought, oh no....this is gonna be tough. Lynda said no problem as she proceeded to stack regular tires. First a stack of three (about truck level), then two, then one and she just rolled that tractor tire up those tire steps. Jim was impressed.
Will and Jim enjoyed watching some TV together in the evenings. We were already hooked on NCIS, like Will, but while we were there we got hooked on 24 and also enjoyed Boston Legal. In the truck and at home there we'd listen to Rush and sometimes Hannity. When we travel now we will still look for them on the radio.
Many of you may have heard stories about Belle, but in case you haven't, Belle is our Jack-Rat who came along in the McCullough package deal. We found out that she is a cancer-sniffing dog....at least that is our claim. She jumped up in Will's lap, sniffed his chest and layed down and stayed right there - day after day. However, after Will's surgery, Belle jumped up in his lap, took one sniff, and jumped back down. She didn't get up in his lap again.
Jim and I consider Lynda and Will as immediate family and their big hearts put together have been a huge powerhouse. We received the blessing of living life with them and we love them so much. I can't wait to join you in heaven one day, Uncle Will...farewell until then.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Weekend Wonderland
I keep thinking of a song that begins with the line..."I couldn't sleep at all last night..." And I know why. Just like the children asleep on Christmas Eve with visions of sugar plums, I, too, attempted to sleep with jumbled visions of the movies I have seen and the books I have read in the last four days...dancing in my head.
It all started with the books - WONDER, then on to TUCK EVERLASTING, and finally, the beginning of BREADCRUMBS. Add to that, the movies - THE JUNGLE BOOK, SPIDERWICK CHRONICLES, TUCK EVERLASTING (naturally), and movie trailers for SHAUN THE SHEEP. And that makes for a perfect potion, or porridge of possibilities. Swimming among these scattered thoughts and memories are the changes I saw made, the changes I would have made, and the family adventures of the weekend.
We were like characters in a book or movie...traveling to another land, Oregon. We stayed in a rented home that was an idyllic cottage with most of the trimmings. Two doors down and across the street, the neighbors grew fairy tale fences of tall sunflowers. A short Noah's-Ark-walk on a painted pedestrian crossing brought us into another land of games, dares, contests, and awaiting friendships. The playground was something like we had never seen and was enough to even delight the eleven year old, not to mention us adult children. It was built like a wood maze with towers that boasted fire escape poles, holes with tire swings to climb down to, slides, swings, obstacle courses, and sandbox.
Another playground awaited us at the public park on Columbia River...with a swimming beach. The rainbow scene on the water was a marvelous parade of wind surfers, kite surfers, kayaks, sailboats and swimmers. We toured a Farmer's Market and talked with local artisans while wishing we had deep pockets of money to take home all the treasures we discovered. We visited some amazing and some rather ratty second hand and vintage stores, toured a blown glass garden and shop, and drove the beautiful countryside taking in the winding sights of Hood River...while Mt. Hood grandly stood guard.
On the trip down, we visited Muhultomah Falls and we switched our route on the way back, stopping at Beacon Rock and enjoying a picnic smorgasbord...but to get across the river from Oregon back to Washington, we crossed a bridge...which one usually must do to cross a river. The notable detail of this bridge, though, is that someone had named it. It is probably a name that has gone down in history from the very first rickety crossing that has now become a very sturdy steel structure. It's name struck me and made me think heavenward....THE BRIDGE OF THE GODS. To me, there should be no S, as there is but one God. Still, it keeps me in this cocoon I am in. This protective feeling of being in a fairy tale with a happy ending.
To that point, I know I will have a happy ending. In my heavenly home. My fairy tale moments of life are huge blessings from my God who loves me more than I can fathom. He loves me even more than I can love my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my family, my friends, my dog, and God's people. Every experience I am granted here on earth are gifts from Him. The things I can see and feel and experience...good and bad...teach me more about Him and about love. I am so grateful for the smallest things and in such awe of them, too. With the big things, I am simply overwhelmed, sometimes speechless, and all I can do is praise Him and enjoy. That is what I also wish for anyone reading this. In big moments and small moments...enjoy, and praise Him!
It all started with the books - WONDER, then on to TUCK EVERLASTING, and finally, the beginning of BREADCRUMBS. Add to that, the movies - THE JUNGLE BOOK, SPIDERWICK CHRONICLES, TUCK EVERLASTING (naturally), and movie trailers for SHAUN THE SHEEP. And that makes for a perfect potion, or porridge of possibilities. Swimming among these scattered thoughts and memories are the changes I saw made, the changes I would have made, and the family adventures of the weekend.
We were like characters in a book or movie...traveling to another land, Oregon. We stayed in a rented home that was an idyllic cottage with most of the trimmings. Two doors down and across the street, the neighbors grew fairy tale fences of tall sunflowers. A short Noah's-Ark-walk on a painted pedestrian crossing brought us into another land of games, dares, contests, and awaiting friendships. The playground was something like we had never seen and was enough to even delight the eleven year old, not to mention us adult children. It was built like a wood maze with towers that boasted fire escape poles, holes with tire swings to climb down to, slides, swings, obstacle courses, and sandbox.
Another playground awaited us at the public park on Columbia River...with a swimming beach. The rainbow scene on the water was a marvelous parade of wind surfers, kite surfers, kayaks, sailboats and swimmers. We toured a Farmer's Market and talked with local artisans while wishing we had deep pockets of money to take home all the treasures we discovered. We visited some amazing and some rather ratty second hand and vintage stores, toured a blown glass garden and shop, and drove the beautiful countryside taking in the winding sights of Hood River...while Mt. Hood grandly stood guard.
On the trip down, we visited Muhultomah Falls and we switched our route on the way back, stopping at Beacon Rock and enjoying a picnic smorgasbord...but to get across the river from Oregon back to Washington, we crossed a bridge...which one usually must do to cross a river. The notable detail of this bridge, though, is that someone had named it. It is probably a name that has gone down in history from the very first rickety crossing that has now become a very sturdy steel structure. It's name struck me and made me think heavenward....THE BRIDGE OF THE GODS. To me, there should be no S, as there is but one God. Still, it keeps me in this cocoon I am in. This protective feeling of being in a fairy tale with a happy ending.
To that point, I know I will have a happy ending. In my heavenly home. My fairy tale moments of life are huge blessings from my God who loves me more than I can fathom. He loves me even more than I can love my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my family, my friends, my dog, and God's people. Every experience I am granted here on earth are gifts from Him. The things I can see and feel and experience...good and bad...teach me more about Him and about love. I am so grateful for the smallest things and in such awe of them, too. With the big things, I am simply overwhelmed, sometimes speechless, and all I can do is praise Him and enjoy. That is what I also wish for anyone reading this. In big moments and small moments...enjoy, and praise Him!
Saturday, January 3, 2015
The Power of Eleven!
What a fun day! One little phone call changed my outlook today as I listened to the exuberance in the voice of the birthday girl! I asked questions and got answers I expected and some I didn't. We sang her the birthday song that is our trademark on their day and now I am having my second cup of coffee over the replays in my mind.
Natalie Grace is eleven years old today and wise for her age, but still a child. She looks so grown up when allowed to wear a little blush and maybe some mascara for special events like the Christmas Eve service at church, but she is still a sweet, innocent child who is always questioning, listening, and learning.
One of her Christmas gifts was a gift certificate for Rock Wall Climbing....something I have never been interested in, but suggested we do it together on my next visit because of her love for it...because I want to get a place in and stay in her world....because her enthusiasm for new adventures entices me to think that I can do it too!
They had planned to go sledding at Paradise on Mt. Ranier today for her birthday. But the snow didn't come. No problem, the new plan is snowshoeing and I can't wait for the pictures. Years ago, before Natalie was born or even planned, Tracy and I had Thanksgiving in Washington with Ted and Robin, which included showshoeing at Paradise. What fun, and what a workout! I secretly wish I were there with them right now instead of airing out the kitchen from the potholder fire I started when I picked the wrong knob to heat water in the tea kettle. (But Jim is working on a Hardee's biscuit recipe that smells heavenly.)
Natalie's mom made a birthday cake from scratch, she proudly tells me, and they are taking it to the lodge and will celebrate with cake when they are done snowshoeing. Can't you just get a picture of that in your mind? This brand new eleven year old was as excited about that as anything!
We bought her an early gift while we were there for Christmas. She loved my purse so we let her pick one out. She wanted a similar color and a lot of zippers like mine has. She also wanted to be able to wear it cross-body like I do in crowds and when traveling. We went through several in a couple stores until she found THE ONE. She carried it around while humoring me, she agreed we could still keep looking and keep an eye on that one. But there was no denying it. After several attempts by Jim to interest her in another...she simply said LETS JUST PAY FOR THIS ONE. Now she tells me with great pride that she takes her purse everywhere she is allowed to and wears it like I do.
I am so grateful Natalie has good parents who have set rules, who have standards of conduct for their children and use common sense to reason out the gray areas of parenting a pre-teen. I am also grateful to this sweet girl, our first grandchild, who we have been learning to grandparent from for these eleven years. She is gentle and patient with us and still loves us through our mistakes, wrong
sizes, forgotten promises, and panned plans.
Oh, and can you guess, I love being a Grandma!!!
Natalie Grace is eleven years old today and wise for her age, but still a child. She looks so grown up when allowed to wear a little blush and maybe some mascara for special events like the Christmas Eve service at church, but she is still a sweet, innocent child who is always questioning, listening, and learning.
One of her Christmas gifts was a gift certificate for Rock Wall Climbing....something I have never been interested in, but suggested we do it together on my next visit because of her love for it...because I want to get a place in and stay in her world....because her enthusiasm for new adventures entices me to think that I can do it too!
They had planned to go sledding at Paradise on Mt. Ranier today for her birthday. But the snow didn't come. No problem, the new plan is snowshoeing and I can't wait for the pictures. Years ago, before Natalie was born or even planned, Tracy and I had Thanksgiving in Washington with Ted and Robin, which included showshoeing at Paradise. What fun, and what a workout! I secretly wish I were there with them right now instead of airing out the kitchen from the potholder fire I started when I picked the wrong knob to heat water in the tea kettle. (But Jim is working on a Hardee's biscuit recipe that smells heavenly.)
Natalie's mom made a birthday cake from scratch, she proudly tells me, and they are taking it to the lodge and will celebrate with cake when they are done snowshoeing. Can't you just get a picture of that in your mind? This brand new eleven year old was as excited about that as anything!
We bought her an early gift while we were there for Christmas. She loved my purse so we let her pick one out. She wanted a similar color and a lot of zippers like mine has. She also wanted to be able to wear it cross-body like I do in crowds and when traveling. We went through several in a couple stores until she found THE ONE. She carried it around while humoring me, she agreed we could still keep looking and keep an eye on that one. But there was no denying it. After several attempts by Jim to interest her in another...she simply said LETS JUST PAY FOR THIS ONE. Now she tells me with great pride that she takes her purse everywhere she is allowed to and wears it like I do.
I am so grateful Natalie has good parents who have set rules, who have standards of conduct for their children and use common sense to reason out the gray areas of parenting a pre-teen. I am also grateful to this sweet girl, our first grandchild, who we have been learning to grandparent from for these eleven years. She is gentle and patient with us and still loves us through our mistakes, wrong
sizes, forgotten promises, and panned plans.
Oh, and can you guess, I love being a Grandma!!!
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Missing Mom
Mom came home with me when I left Fargo. Perhaps I should say home with us, as my sister Gayle was along. Gayle stayed a few days then went home. Mom and I went about our days. We shopped, we toured places, we lunched, we played cards, we watched tv and read. We did normal things. I had more planned. I wanted to take her to Stone Mountain. I wanted her to see Callaway Gardens, especially the chapel on the lake. I wanted to sit on the porch and talk more.
While Gayle was here, I got out the calendar and started talking about which days she wanted to go to Gayles. She didn't want to and I figured it was because she needed to settle in a bit more. Gayle seemed to understand and did not make a big deal of it. If she comes, she comes. What a great attitude, but I thought I could feel her disappointment. So, several days after Gayle left, I broached the subject again. We called Gayle and she mentioned 'her' Rick's birthday was that weekend and that spurred mom on..."birthday cake" she exclaimed!
We hit the road Thursday after work, having lunch on the road which was messier than I had anticipated. I realized that I never really think in advance that Moms dominant right hand is unusable. (Since her stroke). We had a good supper there and I left about noon the next day, thinking I would see Mom within a week, if not sooner.
Gayle really thought of everything. She had gotten her a jigsaw puzzle to work, and planned to get more. There were movies to watch and a trip to the mountains on the weekend for Ricks birthday. I am constantly in awe of this little sister who seems to have it all together. And, as I drove away, I had a thought that this may be the perfect place for Mom. Gayle didn't have a part-time job to contend with, a book club to attend, and other trappings I enjoy.
So I get word that they are coming back in Sunday. I had really hoped it would be sooner. Then later....that it may be next Monday or Tuesday depending on some work her truck needed. I offered to come and my help was refused. Gayle wanted to drive her back. Now I have feelings to sort out and I need to get out of myself and look at this from Moms point of view.
I miss having her here. I feel I didn't get much time with her alone. But I have to focus on the reason I asked her to come. I wanted her to experience the wonderfullness of the south, whether it's my Georgia or Gayles South Carolina. I wanted her to see this as an option for the cold winters in Fargo. (Of course, if Mom were to be here with me longer than a week, I would quit my two mornings a week job.)
Truth be told, I have missed Mom for much longer than this week. I have missed her since I moved out east in 2001. And I have missed her even more since her stroke since she suffers with aphasia and it is really hard to have a phone conversation with someone who sometimes can only get out one sentence or two and its sometimes a repeat of what you have just said.
When I lived in Fargo, I would see her for lunch a couple days a week, spend Saturday afternoons at her condo, go shopping with her and talk on the phone every other day. I miss Mom. And I have to think she also misses me and those days. Even after I moved, we would spend hours in the phone a couple days a week. Wow...we all need to savor the time we have with loved ones while we and they are able.
While Gayle was here, I got out the calendar and started talking about which days she wanted to go to Gayles. She didn't want to and I figured it was because she needed to settle in a bit more. Gayle seemed to understand and did not make a big deal of it. If she comes, she comes. What a great attitude, but I thought I could feel her disappointment. So, several days after Gayle left, I broached the subject again. We called Gayle and she mentioned 'her' Rick's birthday was that weekend and that spurred mom on..."birthday cake" she exclaimed!
We hit the road Thursday after work, having lunch on the road which was messier than I had anticipated. I realized that I never really think in advance that Moms dominant right hand is unusable. (Since her stroke). We had a good supper there and I left about noon the next day, thinking I would see Mom within a week, if not sooner.
Gayle really thought of everything. She had gotten her a jigsaw puzzle to work, and planned to get more. There were movies to watch and a trip to the mountains on the weekend for Ricks birthday. I am constantly in awe of this little sister who seems to have it all together. And, as I drove away, I had a thought that this may be the perfect place for Mom. Gayle didn't have a part-time job to contend with, a book club to attend, and other trappings I enjoy.
So I get word that they are coming back in Sunday. I had really hoped it would be sooner. Then later....that it may be next Monday or Tuesday depending on some work her truck needed. I offered to come and my help was refused. Gayle wanted to drive her back. Now I have feelings to sort out and I need to get out of myself and look at this from Moms point of view.
I miss having her here. I feel I didn't get much time with her alone. But I have to focus on the reason I asked her to come. I wanted her to experience the wonderfullness of the south, whether it's my Georgia or Gayles South Carolina. I wanted her to see this as an option for the cold winters in Fargo. (Of course, if Mom were to be here with me longer than a week, I would quit my two mornings a week job.)
Truth be told, I have missed Mom for much longer than this week. I have missed her since I moved out east in 2001. And I have missed her even more since her stroke since she suffers with aphasia and it is really hard to have a phone conversation with someone who sometimes can only get out one sentence or two and its sometimes a repeat of what you have just said.
When I lived in Fargo, I would see her for lunch a couple days a week, spend Saturday afternoons at her condo, go shopping with her and talk on the phone every other day. I miss Mom. And I have to think she also misses me and those days. Even after I moved, we would spend hours in the phone a couple days a week. Wow...we all need to savor the time we have with loved ones while we and they are able.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Visiting Home (?)
I am "home" in Fargo-Moorhead...the FM area, as it is called because even though the Red River divides the states of Minnesota and North Dakota, the towns seem to roll along as one.
I have had a unidentifiable creeping sensation the last few days, as if in a dream. It's only been a week since driving out of Georgia, yet I am missing it so, and my life there. Here, my life seems blurry, a little lacking in definition. Then it came to me this morning during a cup of coffee and sadness. It no longer feels like home here. I didn't go home, I left home. I am an alien, a Visitor, a ghost of days gone by.
My favorite place to be when here is with my daughters family...it is wonderful to actually converse in person, get and give hugs and kisses, watch faces as we play and talk and eat and rest together. But it's much different from visiting my daughter in Washington. The reason is I am pulled in other directions.
As much as I love to be with Tracy, I also love seeing my Mom and sisters, which sometimes seems like a balancing act. In Washington there is no other competing family doings. Certainly, this is no problem...it can fill a day and it's nice to be busy. I am just never prepared for the emotional strain I cause within myself. Guilt because I am not seeing Mom every day is the ever-present feeling and I try my hardest to get there at some point morning, afternoon or evening. Some days are just impossible. I also want to help with my grandkids and do as much with them as I can.
I have to come to grips with the fact that I am a tourist and you know that when one vacations, they still cannot do everything or see everything they want. I am confident that God will steer me on this trip because I really am an alien, tourist, visitor anywhere I go. My home is in heaven with Him and one day I will go HOME for good. There will be no guilt, no balancing act, no sadness....and I will still be with the ones I love!
I have had a unidentifiable creeping sensation the last few days, as if in a dream. It's only been a week since driving out of Georgia, yet I am missing it so, and my life there. Here, my life seems blurry, a little lacking in definition. Then it came to me this morning during a cup of coffee and sadness. It no longer feels like home here. I didn't go home, I left home. I am an alien, a Visitor, a ghost of days gone by.
My favorite place to be when here is with my daughters family...it is wonderful to actually converse in person, get and give hugs and kisses, watch faces as we play and talk and eat and rest together. But it's much different from visiting my daughter in Washington. The reason is I am pulled in other directions.
As much as I love to be with Tracy, I also love seeing my Mom and sisters, which sometimes seems like a balancing act. In Washington there is no other competing family doings. Certainly, this is no problem...it can fill a day and it's nice to be busy. I am just never prepared for the emotional strain I cause within myself. Guilt because I am not seeing Mom every day is the ever-present feeling and I try my hardest to get there at some point morning, afternoon or evening. Some days are just impossible. I also want to help with my grandkids and do as much with them as I can.
I have to come to grips with the fact that I am a tourist and you know that when one vacations, they still cannot do everything or see everything they want. I am confident that God will steer me on this trip because I really am an alien, tourist, visitor anywhere I go. My home is in heaven with Him and one day I will go HOME for good. There will be no guilt, no balancing act, no sadness....and I will still be with the ones I love!
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
A Very Good Look at My World
I am sitting inside a little box, right in the middle of God's creation. It's not an especially unattractive little box, to me, anyway....but what kind of view does He have? The view from my windows is of beauty and wonder. (Yes, at least my little box has windows!) I love looking at the majestic backyard trees, especially the ones with the huge leaves. Sunlight dances along the branches, playing tag with the shade. The bark of the trees looks a million years old but I know it is not....it is simply aged. Birds play on the branches and sometimes sit on the fence top and serenade creation...a squirrel scampers along the fence supports...eyes darting back and forth, perhaps on the lookout for my dog or another predator. This is my morning window to the world and I love this world. It is primitive and pristine. No matter what we try to do in the backyard, nature wins. And while my husband shakes his head and keeps trying to grow grass and cut down trees that have grown where they shouldn't...I secretly smile at the bald patches of ground and the trees that keep trying to grow back.
The front yard of my box is another story. Here, I try to grow flowers. I try to vary the planting so there is always something in bloom but I have to say my favorites are the Spring offerings of iris, lily, gladiola, daffodil, gerber daisy, sheffelera, and roses. Right now, the gladiolus have just given up the ghost and the zinnias are in full bloom. I have others that bloom but have forgotten some of the names. My star jasmine plant is an Olympian climber that I am excited about, wanting to create a plant wall on the side of the porch. Here in a corner of the flower bed, right next to the walkway to the door, a stubborn tree tries to grow. Jim will cut or pull it down but doesn't get to the root and and it keeps coming back. Now it is three-in-one. I say we dig it out and plant it in the yard. Something that persistent should be celebrated and allowed to grow free. I think I may have to do this myself. Today may be the day.
This little box I call home is my sanctuary where I meet The Lord every day. We look out on His creation and walk out in it, work in it, celebrate it...and we call it VERY GOOD.
The front yard of my box is another story. Here, I try to grow flowers. I try to vary the planting so there is always something in bloom but I have to say my favorites are the Spring offerings of iris, lily, gladiola, daffodil, gerber daisy, sheffelera, and roses. Right now, the gladiolus have just given up the ghost and the zinnias are in full bloom. I have others that bloom but have forgotten some of the names. My star jasmine plant is an Olympian climber that I am excited about, wanting to create a plant wall on the side of the porch. Here in a corner of the flower bed, right next to the walkway to the door, a stubborn tree tries to grow. Jim will cut or pull it down but doesn't get to the root and and it keeps coming back. Now it is three-in-one. I say we dig it out and plant it in the yard. Something that persistent should be celebrated and allowed to grow free. I think I may have to do this myself. Today may be the day.
This little box I call home is my sanctuary where I meet The Lord every day. We look out on His creation and walk out in it, work in it, celebrate it...and we call it VERY GOOD.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Thought for Food
I am not hungry. No, I have not been dieting. I did not eat a big breakfast. I had a half apple, golden delicious, with a cup of French-brewed coffee. I had coffee with God while reading and meditating on the book of Ephesians this morning. Then WHAM! Out of nowhere, I started thinking about food.
I was thinking how deliberate mothers, and grandmothers for that matter, are about feeding children their fruits and vegetables. I really do applaud that, I truly do. I struggle to get my husband to eat fruits and vegetables so it is like having a child at the table sometimes. :) Then I tried to get my head back into my childhood. The older I get, the more random my memories, but, like the song says, one thing 'does' lead to another.
It was the canned age, although we did grow some vegetables in the garden. Mom could cook all the canned peas she wanted but I hated them. On the other hand, I loved the raw peas from the garden and when I was supposed to be shelling them...I confess I ate nearly as much. We had fresh carrots right out of the garden. In fact, my Dad would pull one up (while we walked with him in the garden, having to endure his narrative on all he planted and how great it was coming up), wipe the dirt on his pants, hand it to us and we'd eat it. In those days I did not eat onion in any form and thought it was so yucky when Dad would pull up a big onion and eat it right before supper. And I was seated next to him, smelling his breath for about an hour, or so it seemed. After getting a nickel to try a radish, I found l liked them dipped in salt. The same with rhubarb, only dipped in sugar. That was a treat and it was great when the rhubarb was coming in. We helped Dad plant potatoes and loved red potatoes out of the garden with lots of butter. We lived on the farm then, and I was in the fifth grade when we moved there. When I was born, Dad was a hired hand in the little house. Now we lived in the big house on just a few acres.
I remember the bleak years when we lived in town. Dad was working a couple jobs and mom was an LPN at the local hospital. We did everything we could to save money. But we didn't like it. Dad would mix our milk into a pitcher that was half milk and half water with powdered milk. A sandwich was one piece of bread folded over with a half piece of bologna or peanut butter or jelly...not both. We had Campbell's tomato or chicken soup or a sandwich for lunch and sometimes supper. If Dad was home for supper, we would have meat, usually a hamburger casserole of some sort. I don't remember having a lot of meat until we got a little older. When Mom made Kool-Aid, she added less sugar than called for. Little things helped us get by in the lean times. Our Grandma Ben would send money every year before school so we could go uptown in Moorhead, Mn. to Anthony's and get one new dress for the year. It was so exciting! Then Dad would take us all to get new shoes and winter coats, grumbling how we had grown and how much it cost him.
On the farm. Mom baked more, or I remember it more. And while I was thinking of Mom and food, it occurred to me how she showed her love for me in her cooking. I didn't like nuts, so there was always a row at the end of the brownie pan with no nuts. I didn't like cheese so when the other kids were getting toasted cheese sandwiches, I got toasted peanut butter...yum...I don't make it now (because I like cheese now) but I remember the buttery warm taste in my mouth! I didn't like onions so she would omit them or cut them so small I didn't notice. I didn't like coconut so if she put that on the frosting of a cake, some was left off. She went out of her way to provide something we would all eat and enjoy!
Remembering food did not make me hungry, but it made me mad. In those days leftovers were eaten. Unfortunately, sometimes we end up throwing them out and I think I am the most wasteful human being on the planet. Or, we let something go bad (past the date or getting green fuzz on it) without finishing it or even opening it. In my goal to shop and plan in advance, I am sometimes more wasteful, whereas Jim tends to stop at the store several times a week for fresh meat and what we may like with it. I hate to think of people going hungry while I could have a food orgy in my kitchen. So, I hope to be better, give more food to the hungry, buy less food, throw out less food and maybe in the process, I can even save some money like my hardworking parents did. I can do this, with God's help and I praise Him for His blessings of abundance and the Holy Spirit that nudges me to do the right thing.
I was thinking how deliberate mothers, and grandmothers for that matter, are about feeding children their fruits and vegetables. I really do applaud that, I truly do. I struggle to get my husband to eat fruits and vegetables so it is like having a child at the table sometimes. :) Then I tried to get my head back into my childhood. The older I get, the more random my memories, but, like the song says, one thing 'does' lead to another.
It was the canned age, although we did grow some vegetables in the garden. Mom could cook all the canned peas she wanted but I hated them. On the other hand, I loved the raw peas from the garden and when I was supposed to be shelling them...I confess I ate nearly as much. We had fresh carrots right out of the garden. In fact, my Dad would pull one up (while we walked with him in the garden, having to endure his narrative on all he planted and how great it was coming up), wipe the dirt on his pants, hand it to us and we'd eat it. In those days I did not eat onion in any form and thought it was so yucky when Dad would pull up a big onion and eat it right before supper. And I was seated next to him, smelling his breath for about an hour, or so it seemed. After getting a nickel to try a radish, I found l liked them dipped in salt. The same with rhubarb, only dipped in sugar. That was a treat and it was great when the rhubarb was coming in. We helped Dad plant potatoes and loved red potatoes out of the garden with lots of butter. We lived on the farm then, and I was in the fifth grade when we moved there. When I was born, Dad was a hired hand in the little house. Now we lived in the big house on just a few acres.
I remember the bleak years when we lived in town. Dad was working a couple jobs and mom was an LPN at the local hospital. We did everything we could to save money. But we didn't like it. Dad would mix our milk into a pitcher that was half milk and half water with powdered milk. A sandwich was one piece of bread folded over with a half piece of bologna or peanut butter or jelly...not both. We had Campbell's tomato or chicken soup or a sandwich for lunch and sometimes supper. If Dad was home for supper, we would have meat, usually a hamburger casserole of some sort. I don't remember having a lot of meat until we got a little older. When Mom made Kool-Aid, she added less sugar than called for. Little things helped us get by in the lean times. Our Grandma Ben would send money every year before school so we could go uptown in Moorhead, Mn. to Anthony's and get one new dress for the year. It was so exciting! Then Dad would take us all to get new shoes and winter coats, grumbling how we had grown and how much it cost him.
On the farm. Mom baked more, or I remember it more. And while I was thinking of Mom and food, it occurred to me how she showed her love for me in her cooking. I didn't like nuts, so there was always a row at the end of the brownie pan with no nuts. I didn't like cheese so when the other kids were getting toasted cheese sandwiches, I got toasted peanut butter...yum...I don't make it now (because I like cheese now) but I remember the buttery warm taste in my mouth! I didn't like onions so she would omit them or cut them so small I didn't notice. I didn't like coconut so if she put that on the frosting of a cake, some was left off. She went out of her way to provide something we would all eat and enjoy!
Remembering food did not make me hungry, but it made me mad. In those days leftovers were eaten. Unfortunately, sometimes we end up throwing them out and I think I am the most wasteful human being on the planet. Or, we let something go bad (past the date or getting green fuzz on it) without finishing it or even opening it. In my goal to shop and plan in advance, I am sometimes more wasteful, whereas Jim tends to stop at the store several times a week for fresh meat and what we may like with it. I hate to think of people going hungry while I could have a food orgy in my kitchen. So, I hope to be better, give more food to the hungry, buy less food, throw out less food and maybe in the process, I can even save some money like my hardworking parents did. I can do this, with God's help and I praise Him for His blessings of abundance and the Holy Spirit that nudges me to do the right thing.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Unbeautiful
I have been amazed, these last few weeks on vacation, of the continual beauty in my life and the world I live. It never ceases. I can find beauty everywhere, easily. It is seen, felt, tasted, heard, smelled. It is life itself and it is all a bounteous gift from God.
As we drive along the highways and gravel roads: trees, sky, clouds, storms, billboards, animals, vehicles, houses, yards, gardens, fields, shopping centers, gas stations, restaurants, ditches, bushes, flowers, fences...they stretch like ribbons or they pop up here and there; they cause me to laugh or cause me concern; they entertain me and intrigue me; they give me ideas I somehow can't put to paper; they work my imagination. They are beautiful.
As we attend weddings: laughing brides with smiling husbands, photo opportunities, children dashing about, celebration foods and drinks, smiling hellos to friends and relatives we have missed then tearful goodbyes, gowns and party dresses, ties and vests, cakes, flowers, hugs and kisses, receiving lines and guest books, brightly ribboned gifts and thoughtful cards, music and musicians, wrinkled faces and fresh baby skin, oooh's and ahhhh's...they are life-giving, enriching, dramatic, and so beautiful.
As we relax on the lake: endless blue sky reflected on water, rice and weed beds, the chug of the motor, the ripples the pontoon makes on the water, the sun so life-giving and bright, the slight whip and whirr of my line as I cast, the leech and minnows that dance (for a time) on my hook, the thrill of reeling in a northern, a sunfish, a bass, a baby walleye (all good little fighters), my dog's excitement as she tries to kiss and bite my catch, Belle's bark as she impatiently waits for me to get my line back in the water...it's a beautiful respite, a time to be alone with God and His creation even while I am with my husband and dog.
As we relax at the lake: the RV sitting in it's same spot for the last 6 years or so, the deck with it's "Beware of Dog" sign that doesn't really matter, the flowered flag waving (a different one this year), the decked out deck with furniture and shade umbrella, then the first step inside...and we are home, the recliner that fits my body perfectly, the perfect sized table, cooking on that little stove, trying to get groceries into that little fridge, washing dishes in my "playhouse" sink, the fun corner shower I bump my elbows on at times, the familiar towels, the resort bathhouse, the resort lodge...it is all calming to the soul and beautiful to me.
Again, I can use all my 5 senses for this beauty in God's world, for these beautiful experiences He affords me.
My family and friends are beautiful. I find something beautiful about each of them with my eyes and my ears. Some beauty I find deep within them by trial and error, by knowing them, by intuition. Some share their beautiful thoughts, ideas, life. Some invite me in. For some, my life is intertwined with theirs in different, wondrous ways.
But, at the end of these two weeks, I, myself, feel very unbeautiful. I feel I have been drinking from a deep well and taking it all in but giving nothing of beauty back to the world, back to God. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I were beautiful on the outside, and wish I were...however, I have come to terms with how God made me and I know I do have beauty within, or had it. I feel like I need to find part of myself again, so I have more to give. Whatever happens or doesn't to the outside of me...I am going to get back to work on the inside of me, with God's help...so I can truly be a beautiful gift to Him and to the world.
As we drive along the highways and gravel roads: trees, sky, clouds, storms, billboards, animals, vehicles, houses, yards, gardens, fields, shopping centers, gas stations, restaurants, ditches, bushes, flowers, fences...they stretch like ribbons or they pop up here and there; they cause me to laugh or cause me concern; they entertain me and intrigue me; they give me ideas I somehow can't put to paper; they work my imagination. They are beautiful.
As we attend weddings: laughing brides with smiling husbands, photo opportunities, children dashing about, celebration foods and drinks, smiling hellos to friends and relatives we have missed then tearful goodbyes, gowns and party dresses, ties and vests, cakes, flowers, hugs and kisses, receiving lines and guest books, brightly ribboned gifts and thoughtful cards, music and musicians, wrinkled faces and fresh baby skin, oooh's and ahhhh's...they are life-giving, enriching, dramatic, and so beautiful.
As we relax on the lake: endless blue sky reflected on water, rice and weed beds, the chug of the motor, the ripples the pontoon makes on the water, the sun so life-giving and bright, the slight whip and whirr of my line as I cast, the leech and minnows that dance (for a time) on my hook, the thrill of reeling in a northern, a sunfish, a bass, a baby walleye (all good little fighters), my dog's excitement as she tries to kiss and bite my catch, Belle's bark as she impatiently waits for me to get my line back in the water...it's a beautiful respite, a time to be alone with God and His creation even while I am with my husband and dog.
As we relax at the lake: the RV sitting in it's same spot for the last 6 years or so, the deck with it's "Beware of Dog" sign that doesn't really matter, the flowered flag waving (a different one this year), the decked out deck with furniture and shade umbrella, then the first step inside...and we are home, the recliner that fits my body perfectly, the perfect sized table, cooking on that little stove, trying to get groceries into that little fridge, washing dishes in my "playhouse" sink, the fun corner shower I bump my elbows on at times, the familiar towels, the resort bathhouse, the resort lodge...it is all calming to the soul and beautiful to me.
Again, I can use all my 5 senses for this beauty in God's world, for these beautiful experiences He affords me.
My family and friends are beautiful. I find something beautiful about each of them with my eyes and my ears. Some beauty I find deep within them by trial and error, by knowing them, by intuition. Some share their beautiful thoughts, ideas, life. Some invite me in. For some, my life is intertwined with theirs in different, wondrous ways.
But, at the end of these two weeks, I, myself, feel very unbeautiful. I feel I have been drinking from a deep well and taking it all in but giving nothing of beauty back to the world, back to God. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I were beautiful on the outside, and wish I were...however, I have come to terms with how God made me and I know I do have beauty within, or had it. I feel like I need to find part of myself again, so I have more to give. Whatever happens or doesn't to the outside of me...I am going to get back to work on the inside of me, with God's help...so I can truly be a beautiful gift to Him and to the world.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
A Taste of Honey
So.... after a day of "wool and wild honey" at Hedgerow Farm near Bishop, GA, I am relaxing in a lavender bubble bath pondering bees.
The name , Debra, means "A bee" in Hebrew, English, and Biblical baby name books. I have also seen it further described as "seeker" and "truth seeker", describing the Judge Deborah in the Bible. Maybe this is why I have always had a fondness for bees, demonstrated in my preferred choice of stationary, books, hand towels, and decorative pins. This bee fondness, has not extended to their honey product. But, I wanted to learn more about these fascinating creatures!
On this day, our book club was enjoying a 'field trip' to round out the study of Margaret Feinberg's Scouting the Divine my search for God in wine, wool, and wild honey. Arranged by our study leader, Dena, we drove 2-1/2 hours to visit Hedgerow Farm, the indescribable home of her brother's family. Our gracious host, sister-in-law, Lisa Douglas eagerly welcomed us and endured endless questions as we mined her knowledge and experience.
While one group took a carriage ride, the rest of us met Rosie, the guard and companion dog for a cow and her calf as we walked the road to the bee hives. I noticed there was one hive on the left side of the road, sheltered by trees while the remainder of the hives were grouped on the right side of the road along the tree line. I asked if these bees had done something wrong, as they appeared to be living "on the wrong side of the road". She laughed, telling me they were Russian bees, whispering the queens were nasty bitches...then she spoke of the Italian bees, which most around here descend from, and their mating habits with any drone around, some feral. There is no way the breed stays pure, which is not an objective, anyway.
After another group of carriage riders and lunch, we visited the sheep. Lisa referred to them as "Jacob sheep", the same as the sheep in the Old Testament. They were so different from the sheep we raised on our farm in North Dakota and was I used to seeing on car rides. To me, their faces were goat-like and they had horns, some two, some four. Of course, we could not get too close, being a group of 8, without them changing direction. One 4 month old sheep, Clyde, saw Lisa as Mom and clung to her at times. His sheep Mom had started butting him at birth, in rejection they feared, so Lisa had bottle-fed him. We were able to get close and feel his coat, so pretty and wavy almost to a relaxed ringlet and so soft. These type of sheep do some shedding as a natural self-shearing, but Lisa still has shearers come out to finish the job. She spoke of having to find the right shearer, who wasn't too rough with them, who took his time and was gentle. She shared how she chose names and why some were tail snubbed and some not. We learned there is a logical reason for everything and even her naming process is an aid for remembrance. The love and care for her sheep was evident in how she spoke of them and how she spoke to them. The words Gentle Shepherdess come to mind when I think of Lisa with her sheep. Of course we were given much more information than I can write here!
After walking through the orchard and gardens, pausing to admire the brickwork and hearing the story of the fences, I stopped on a fire ant home. Lisa was my deliverer! As I threw off shoes and socks she ran for the unscented ban deodorant, which I rolled all over. She then had me chew plantain leaves and spread them around my ankles. I had no problems after that. Earlier, we had rubbed lemon balm leaves on our arms and legs and squirted ourselves with lemon balm water to fend off mosquitos, which worked beautifully...things I will need to plant and use.
Up at the house, I notice a quart jar about 2/3 filled with a dark honey and asked if it was from her bees. She said it was the end of last years honey and she would give us some. (unlike some beekeepers, she only collects once a year)
I confessed that I had never tasted their treasure, after she started filling little jars, but my husband would love it. She said that I would be surprised at how often she has heard that and urged me to take a taste...she said it was more a connoisseur's honey as it is less sweet...not from clover, but from some other sources like lavender and some other types of flowers she named.
Feeling brave now, I tasted some of Lisa's honey and I loved it! Like a wine, I slowly let it move around in my mouth and swallowed a melody of blends. Tasting the honey was like smelling a variety of blooms. There was not one I could identify, but all together they were a symphony in my mouth!
I have my little treasured jar in the kitchen and as my bubbles are starting to disappear, I am just wondering what a half teaspoon would do to my lavender bath, to my skin, to my senses.... "Nah!" my taste buds yell, "What a waste!" and I know I will cherish every small spoonful and work up elaborate plans when to do so and with what foods (Lisa gave me some great ideas!) and drinks, and settings, and with whom I will share....
Oh, I can't stand it! Mysteries await! I actually like honey!
The name , Debra, means "A bee" in Hebrew, English, and Biblical baby name books. I have also seen it further described as "seeker" and "truth seeker", describing the Judge Deborah in the Bible. Maybe this is why I have always had a fondness for bees, demonstrated in my preferred choice of stationary, books, hand towels, and decorative pins. This bee fondness, has not extended to their honey product. But, I wanted to learn more about these fascinating creatures!
On this day, our book club was enjoying a 'field trip' to round out the study of Margaret Feinberg's Scouting the Divine my search for God in wine, wool, and wild honey. Arranged by our study leader, Dena, we drove 2-1/2 hours to visit Hedgerow Farm, the indescribable home of her brother's family. Our gracious host, sister-in-law, Lisa Douglas eagerly welcomed us and endured endless questions as we mined her knowledge and experience.
While one group took a carriage ride, the rest of us met Rosie, the guard and companion dog for a cow and her calf as we walked the road to the bee hives. I noticed there was one hive on the left side of the road, sheltered by trees while the remainder of the hives were grouped on the right side of the road along the tree line. I asked if these bees had done something wrong, as they appeared to be living "on the wrong side of the road". She laughed, telling me they were Russian bees, whispering the queens were nasty bitches...then she spoke of the Italian bees, which most around here descend from, and their mating habits with any drone around, some feral. There is no way the breed stays pure, which is not an objective, anyway.
After another group of carriage riders and lunch, we visited the sheep. Lisa referred to them as "Jacob sheep", the same as the sheep in the Old Testament. They were so different from the sheep we raised on our farm in North Dakota and was I used to seeing on car rides. To me, their faces were goat-like and they had horns, some two, some four. Of course, we could not get too close, being a group of 8, without them changing direction. One 4 month old sheep, Clyde, saw Lisa as Mom and clung to her at times. His sheep Mom had started butting him at birth, in rejection they feared, so Lisa had bottle-fed him. We were able to get close and feel his coat, so pretty and wavy almost to a relaxed ringlet and so soft. These type of sheep do some shedding as a natural self-shearing, but Lisa still has shearers come out to finish the job. She spoke of having to find the right shearer, who wasn't too rough with them, who took his time and was gentle. She shared how she chose names and why some were tail snubbed and some not. We learned there is a logical reason for everything and even her naming process is an aid for remembrance. The love and care for her sheep was evident in how she spoke of them and how she spoke to them. The words Gentle Shepherdess come to mind when I think of Lisa with her sheep. Of course we were given much more information than I can write here!
After walking through the orchard and gardens, pausing to admire the brickwork and hearing the story of the fences, I stopped on a fire ant home. Lisa was my deliverer! As I threw off shoes and socks she ran for the unscented ban deodorant, which I rolled all over. She then had me chew plantain leaves and spread them around my ankles. I had no problems after that. Earlier, we had rubbed lemon balm leaves on our arms and legs and squirted ourselves with lemon balm water to fend off mosquitos, which worked beautifully...things I will need to plant and use.
Up at the house, I notice a quart jar about 2/3 filled with a dark honey and asked if it was from her bees. She said it was the end of last years honey and she would give us some. (unlike some beekeepers, she only collects once a year)
Feeling brave now, I tasted some of Lisa's honey and I loved it! Like a wine, I slowly let it move around in my mouth and swallowed a melody of blends. Tasting the honey was like smelling a variety of blooms. There was not one I could identify, but all together they were a symphony in my mouth!
I have my little treasured jar in the kitchen and as my bubbles are starting to disappear, I am just wondering what a half teaspoon would do to my lavender bath, to my skin, to my senses.... "Nah!" my taste buds yell, "What a waste!" and I know I will cherish every small spoonful and work up elaborate plans when to do so and with what foods (Lisa gave me some great ideas!) and drinks, and settings, and with whom I will share....
Oh, I can't stand it! Mysteries await! I actually like honey!
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
KITE FLYING
O what a beautiful day, Lord!
How the gentle breezes sway
The lush, new leaves of trees
causing the sunlight to tease
Running to and fro across my table.
No breezes came this weekend, Lord.
We were hoping some you'd send
For a-kiting we would go
With two grandkids in tow
And oh what fun we had planned.
Now the breezes are here, Lord.
But grandkids are not near
With kites still on my mind
Flying with Jim, I may find
To be a new plan of fun today.
O what a beautiful day, Lord!
How the gentle breezes sway
The lush, new leaves of trees
causing the sunlight to tease
Running to and fro across my table.
No breezes came this weekend, Lord.
We were hoping some you'd send
For a-kiting we would go
With two grandkids in tow
And oh what fun we had planned.
Now the breezes are here, Lord.
But grandkids are not near
With kites still on my mind
Flying with Jim, I may find
To be a new plan of fun today.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
The Dear Dozen
We got a phone call the other day.
Number 12 is on the way!
Jim was talking with Sarah and I just heard conversation snatches. I got the scoop when he said goodbye and he got scolded for not giving me the phone to congratulate her. He said it was not planned.
Well, many blessings aren't. In fact, God gives to us more abundantly that we ask! Most of my plans are changed by God's plans. Did I plan on that flat tire today? No, but it happened in town and I ended up needing four new tires. So....when I make that drive to meet my sister at Callaway Gardens tomorrow, I won't get a flat on the highway. I am taken care of. God's plan. His plans are always higher than mine!
So, getting back to this baby. It was always in His plan and will be a great blessing after the surprise wears off the parents. Now, as Sarah said, I know why I dreamt of sewing another quilt a few nights ago. I woke up wondering, what the heck? There's no new baby...still I had a feeling of urgency. Go through your materials, threads, clean the machine, get ready!
We are so blessed! We have five wonderful children (in 5 different states) who love God and many are involved in a ministry as a lay person or by profession. We have 11 wonderful grandchildren in 4 states that we are lucky enough to see at least once or twice a year. (We get to see the kids in Georgia and Kentucky more often, as they are within 2-7 hours of driving distance.) But besides seeing them and loving them, we have the honor of going to the Lord in prayer for them.
May God continue to bless:
Ted and Robin Bailey and their children Natalie, William (Will), Lydia, and Anika in Washington; Jeremy and Tracy Tjon and their children Owen, Briggs, and Gage in Minnesota; Bert and Sarah Parham and their children Temperance (Tempie), Joseph (JJ), and their little bundle of joy due November who live in Kentucky; James and Jamie McCullough and their children Rainie and Reagan in Georgia, and Rachel McCullough in Virginia and her future mate and children.
You see, there will be MORE than a Dear Dozen....Rachel has yet to begin! (And who knows about the Tjon's and McCullough's?) Oh, we praise God for our quiver-full of grandchildren!
Number 12 is on the way!
Jim was talking with Sarah and I just heard conversation snatches. I got the scoop when he said goodbye and he got scolded for not giving me the phone to congratulate her. He said it was not planned.
Well, many blessings aren't. In fact, God gives to us more abundantly that we ask! Most of my plans are changed by God's plans. Did I plan on that flat tire today? No, but it happened in town and I ended up needing four new tires. So....when I make that drive to meet my sister at Callaway Gardens tomorrow, I won't get a flat on the highway. I am taken care of. God's plan. His plans are always higher than mine!
So, getting back to this baby. It was always in His plan and will be a great blessing after the surprise wears off the parents. Now, as Sarah said, I know why I dreamt of sewing another quilt a few nights ago. I woke up wondering, what the heck? There's no new baby...still I had a feeling of urgency. Go through your materials, threads, clean the machine, get ready!
We are so blessed! We have five wonderful children (in 5 different states) who love God and many are involved in a ministry as a lay person or by profession. We have 11 wonderful grandchildren in 4 states that we are lucky enough to see at least once or twice a year. (We get to see the kids in Georgia and Kentucky more often, as they are within 2-7 hours of driving distance.) But besides seeing them and loving them, we have the honor of going to the Lord in prayer for them.
May God continue to bless:
Ted and Robin Bailey and their children Natalie, William (Will), Lydia, and Anika in Washington; Jeremy and Tracy Tjon and their children Owen, Briggs, and Gage in Minnesota; Bert and Sarah Parham and their children Temperance (Tempie), Joseph (JJ), and their little bundle of joy due November who live in Kentucky; James and Jamie McCullough and their children Rainie and Reagan in Georgia, and Rachel McCullough in Virginia and her future mate and children.
You see, there will be MORE than a Dear Dozen....Rachel has yet to begin! (And who knows about the Tjon's and McCullough's?) Oh, we praise God for our quiver-full of grandchildren!
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Representing my church... and dog owners?
I was out walking my dog, 8 year old jack-rat Belle, the other day. I had 3 grocery bags tied to the leash handle, as some days are a 3 bag day, and was wearing my bright orange Southside Baptist Church tee. This was unusual for me, as I usually steer clear of bright colors on my dog walk, preferring old white t-shirts from my 'fishing clothes collection'.
We were on a one-bag day as we neared the elementary school. The kids were out in full force, doing timed runs with the P.E. instructor shouting encouragement and stopwatch readings through a megaphone. Now, the children at this school have seen Belle often enough and been corrected often enough, but I let it go today as they yelled to me when they passed the fence. "Hey. Nice chihuahua!" "I like your chihuahua, lady!" "What a cute chihuahua!" But besides that, a few looked me in the eye and said "Hi!". They usually just talk about Belle or to Belle. I thought I recognized them but maybe some of their many faces were separating out and bcoming distinct in my mind. Or, perhaps it was the shirt and they recognized their church!
We rounded the front and went along the far side where there was a line of trees and vines, cut back a bit for extra parking along the school field. It was here, in the long grass, along the tree stand, where Belle had a need. Not usually venturing into 'wilderness', I usually left IT if not out in the open and in tall grass. For some reason, I looked back at the field and saw two girls who had stopped and were watching us. Feeling instant shame for the thought to leave it, I untied a bag, put my hand in it, and bent to scoop up Belle's deposit hearing both the girls..."Euwww, she's picking it up! Euwwww!".
At that point they were encouraged to "Pick it up, girls!" and as they began jogging, I heard one remark to the other, "And she goes to Southside like me!"
For the rest of our walk, I wondered if the story would be retold by her on Sunday and if it would be told with pride that a church member picks up after her dog or told with exaggerated disgust as the gross things dog owners have to do...and a warning....when she's a greeter, don't shake her hand!
We were on a one-bag day as we neared the elementary school. The kids were out in full force, doing timed runs with the P.E. instructor shouting encouragement and stopwatch readings through a megaphone. Now, the children at this school have seen Belle often enough and been corrected often enough, but I let it go today as they yelled to me when they passed the fence. "Hey. Nice chihuahua!" "I like your chihuahua, lady!" "What a cute chihuahua!" But besides that, a few looked me in the eye and said "Hi!". They usually just talk about Belle or to Belle. I thought I recognized them but maybe some of their many faces were separating out and bcoming distinct in my mind. Or, perhaps it was the shirt and they recognized their church!
We rounded the front and went along the far side where there was a line of trees and vines, cut back a bit for extra parking along the school field. It was here, in the long grass, along the tree stand, where Belle had a need. Not usually venturing into 'wilderness', I usually left IT if not out in the open and in tall grass. For some reason, I looked back at the field and saw two girls who had stopped and were watching us. Feeling instant shame for the thought to leave it, I untied a bag, put my hand in it, and bent to scoop up Belle's deposit hearing both the girls..."Euwww, she's picking it up! Euwwww!".
At that point they were encouraged to "Pick it up, girls!" and as they began jogging, I heard one remark to the other, "And she goes to Southside like me!"
For the rest of our walk, I wondered if the story would be retold by her on Sunday and if it would be told with pride that a church member picks up after her dog or told with exaggerated disgust as the gross things dog owners have to do...and a warning....when she's a greeter, don't shake her hand!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Memories of Mom
I am missing my mom today. The last time I called to talk with her, she gave the phone to Ken, my step-dad and he didn't feel like talking. I will try again today.
I was looking through an old journal I was keeping on my cookbook bookshelf, as I had started recording recipes in it...when I came upon an old entry:
-------------
11/21/2004
"Mom had a TIA this afternoon and is in Innovis, Room 522. The CAT scan, compared to one taken a week ago, shows nothing of significance - no change, that is. She was dehydrated so has IV's for fluids. Her veins were pretty shot from the prednisone, so they blew a couple on one arm before they found one on the other arm. She's crying - doesn't want to be here. She's lost 20 pounds in less than 3 weeks...absolutely no interest in food now. Can't even take her crackers with her pills so gags them down and spits them up later because of her empty stomach.
Dan said, "Ma's not having fun anymore." She's also lost interest in the daily paper. These sound like the same 'warning signs' we got from Hospice when Dad was dying...like the progression of death. I know it's not the same, it just reminds me of that time, with Dad. Mom's been in a wheelchair now for a week, due to her feet. She always had a great capacity for pain and I wonder if her 'weakness' was more than that, perhaps her feet bothered her long before the sugery? It's true, as Pam said, Mom is now leading Ken's ideal life because she doesn't have a choice. If she did, she'd do more and go places. She would manage her own money and at least get cards and send them late for her kids and grandkids birthdays. That was Mom.
I miss my best friend who I could talk to about anything. I'd often ask for advice and she'd give it to me but never tell me how to live my life, what to do, or how to feel. I miss her hugs and kisses and her telling me she loves me. I miss my favorite traveling companion...we shared a sense of adventure and loved to shop together and see new places, meeting new people. I miss my book reviewer. We'd read new books and share them or let the other know not to bother, as our tatstes were similar. We didn't go for romance novels, but liked the Best-Sellers lists and mystery& suspence or history. We also enjoyed spiritual and fantasy readings...as in The Harry Potter books and The Left Behind series. Mom loved Stephen King, too, and we read The Green Mile together when it first came out in installments.
Since I'd moved away, we sometimes had long chats over the phone and it really was like being down the street...popping in anytime for a cup of coffee and some chit chat. I miss my Mom so much! I'm here in Georgia, working at the church and living with a good husband. I'm traveling, meeting people, making friends and I know my Mom is in a dirty, smelly apartment, sitting in a corner of a dirty, smelly couch - possibly still in her PJ's - watching mindless TV. I don't know what she's thinking but maybe she's able to 'turn it off' and just be numb to keep from jumping out of her skin with extreme agitation and the rage of not being able to communicate. Maybe she's found a way to cope. maybe she's sad that she doesn't get calls like she used to.
I know I feel guilt, and so do my sisters. Why do I treat her differently? It's frustrating and I am stuck in mourning what WAS. I am thinking of myself and so ashamed at what I have turned into. I hear lots of things and sometimes get so mad at Ken and don't want to have to talk with him. Then, when I do, my heart goes out a little to him, too. He's lonely and missing Mom, too, and she's sitting right there. What is the plan, God?"
------------
Well, since I had written this (about 7 years ago), Mom has learned to communicate better and although she has had more sugery and hospital stays, her spirits are generally pretty good. She gets around with a cane and they are both living in an Assisted Living complex. Her life is better than it was when they lived in the apartment. Ken has had some health issues and even though he likes to complain, I believe he's glad they are in this facility. I don't get to visit often but I call and get to talk to her at least 50% of the time. Mom turned 79 this year and has endured much better, under the circumstances, that I ever thought she would. God is good and he is in control!
I was looking through an old journal I was keeping on my cookbook bookshelf, as I had started recording recipes in it...when I came upon an old entry:
-------------
11/21/2004
"Mom had a TIA this afternoon and is in Innovis, Room 522. The CAT scan, compared to one taken a week ago, shows nothing of significance - no change, that is. She was dehydrated so has IV's for fluids. Her veins were pretty shot from the prednisone, so they blew a couple on one arm before they found one on the other arm. She's crying - doesn't want to be here. She's lost 20 pounds in less than 3 weeks...absolutely no interest in food now. Can't even take her crackers with her pills so gags them down and spits them up later because of her empty stomach.
Dan said, "Ma's not having fun anymore." She's also lost interest in the daily paper. These sound like the same 'warning signs' we got from Hospice when Dad was dying...like the progression of death. I know it's not the same, it just reminds me of that time, with Dad. Mom's been in a wheelchair now for a week, due to her feet. She always had a great capacity for pain and I wonder if her 'weakness' was more than that, perhaps her feet bothered her long before the sugery? It's true, as Pam said, Mom is now leading Ken's ideal life because she doesn't have a choice. If she did, she'd do more and go places. She would manage her own money and at least get cards and send them late for her kids and grandkids birthdays. That was Mom.
I miss my best friend who I could talk to about anything. I'd often ask for advice and she'd give it to me but never tell me how to live my life, what to do, or how to feel. I miss her hugs and kisses and her telling me she loves me. I miss my favorite traveling companion...we shared a sense of adventure and loved to shop together and see new places, meeting new people. I miss my book reviewer. We'd read new books and share them or let the other know not to bother, as our tatstes were similar. We didn't go for romance novels, but liked the Best-Sellers lists and mystery& suspence or history. We also enjoyed spiritual and fantasy readings...as in The Harry Potter books and The Left Behind series. Mom loved Stephen King, too, and we read The Green Mile together when it first came out in installments.
Since I'd moved away, we sometimes had long chats over the phone and it really was like being down the street...popping in anytime for a cup of coffee and some chit chat. I miss my Mom so much! I'm here in Georgia, working at the church and living with a good husband. I'm traveling, meeting people, making friends and I know my Mom is in a dirty, smelly apartment, sitting in a corner of a dirty, smelly couch - possibly still in her PJ's - watching mindless TV. I don't know what she's thinking but maybe she's able to 'turn it off' and just be numb to keep from jumping out of her skin with extreme agitation and the rage of not being able to communicate. Maybe she's found a way to cope. maybe she's sad that she doesn't get calls like she used to.
I know I feel guilt, and so do my sisters. Why do I treat her differently? It's frustrating and I am stuck in mourning what WAS. I am thinking of myself and so ashamed at what I have turned into. I hear lots of things and sometimes get so mad at Ken and don't want to have to talk with him. Then, when I do, my heart goes out a little to him, too. He's lonely and missing Mom, too, and she's sitting right there. What is the plan, God?"
------------
Well, since I had written this (about 7 years ago), Mom has learned to communicate better and although she has had more sugery and hospital stays, her spirits are generally pretty good. She gets around with a cane and they are both living in an Assisted Living complex. Her life is better than it was when they lived in the apartment. Ken has had some health issues and even though he likes to complain, I believe he's glad they are in this facility. I don't get to visit often but I call and get to talk to her at least 50% of the time. Mom turned 79 this year and has endured much better, under the circumstances, that I ever thought she would. God is good and he is in control!
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Jagged Edges of Friendship
Everyone is touched by friendship. It is a keen observer in our lives. We can't really do without it well, but it sometimes seems more trouble than it's worth. The problems in friendships could be people because friendships with animals seem so much more satisfactory. However, when you get right down to it, 'satisfactory' is not a box beside our name that we would like to have checked. We would rather risk the lows to experience the highs, because without one or the other, all we are left with is 'satisfactory'.
So, we weigh the worth of our experiences and needs against our future expectations. After disappointments, betrayals, and lies...we try to forgive and trust again. We try to accept people for who they are and we quit trying to shame them or shape-change them into a certain mind mold.
We may try to evaluate the sum and total of our coexistance in each others lives to determine if the friendship is beneficial in any way, or salvageable.
However, I do believe when we do this, we must also check the balance of the scales in our greatest friendship. Who am I to judge someone else? Have I disappointed my Lord and Savior who actually gave up His life for me? Does He want me to have friendships based on how I can benefit from them and what they add ot my life...or, does He want me to be the light-bearer in friendships and BE Jesus to others? Does He not continually forgive me when I do or say something boneheaded? Does He not show me mercy?
Lord, teach me to be a better friend, that people will see You in me!
So, we weigh the worth of our experiences and needs against our future expectations. After disappointments, betrayals, and lies...we try to forgive and trust again. We try to accept people for who they are and we quit trying to shame them or shape-change them into a certain mind mold.
We may try to evaluate the sum and total of our coexistance in each others lives to determine if the friendship is beneficial in any way, or salvageable.
However, I do believe when we do this, we must also check the balance of the scales in our greatest friendship. Who am I to judge someone else? Have I disappointed my Lord and Savior who actually gave up His life for me? Does He want me to have friendships based on how I can benefit from them and what they add ot my life...or, does He want me to be the light-bearer in friendships and BE Jesus to others? Does He not continually forgive me when I do or say something boneheaded? Does He not show me mercy?
Lord, teach me to be a better friend, that people will see You in me!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Living in the Lull
I've felt without purpose for awhile. In between my part-time jobs, I am anticipating the next. So, I have been working, or looking forward to working, and planning how to work my everyday chores around my job. Now, I am jobless...except for a courrier job for 3 hours two days a week. Now, I have more time on my hands to do the projects I have put off...to clean...to 'home-make'. So, why don't I?
I can't say I'm bored. When there are so many possibilities of things I could do, and so many things that really need to be done, bored is just not right. I clean a little, read a little, eat a little....but am still found wanting. Why?
Perhaps it's the tenuous nature of our lives right now. Maybe it's the unknown. I don't think it's fear, for I know God provides. Could be guilt. Guilt that Jim is looking for full-time work and I am not even looking could be blocking some of my daily joy. I could be robbing myself of joy? Well, yes, that's usually who does it...we do it to ourselves.
On our dog-walk this morning, the word LULL just rushed at my brain and penetrated! I am in a lull, as in the lull before a storm where you can't really do too much or go too far because a storm is coming. Something is coming, indeed, and I have much to do to get ready. I have made a list of my own personal money-saving ideas and realized, if done properly, the savings can purchase TWO plane tickets for me and Jim. Or, the money could go toward paying the cable bill for a year. Either way, it's a start.
I am planning baby-quilts and looking at material, something that's been on hold while working. I am picking up my writing exercises and looking at my violin. Maybe that's what the lull is for...getting my creative juices flowing again. There is much to do, achem...there is alot of FUN and JOY to be had...mine for the taking!
After the babies come, I will look for full-time work. But, I will remain open to the voice of the Lord, who can change my plans to line up with His, in an instant! Lord, continue to fill me daily and help me make good use of this lull!
I can't say I'm bored. When there are so many possibilities of things I could do, and so many things that really need to be done, bored is just not right. I clean a little, read a little, eat a little....but am still found wanting. Why?
Perhaps it's the tenuous nature of our lives right now. Maybe it's the unknown. I don't think it's fear, for I know God provides. Could be guilt. Guilt that Jim is looking for full-time work and I am not even looking could be blocking some of my daily joy. I could be robbing myself of joy? Well, yes, that's usually who does it...we do it to ourselves.
On our dog-walk this morning, the word LULL just rushed at my brain and penetrated! I am in a lull, as in the lull before a storm where you can't really do too much or go too far because a storm is coming. Something is coming, indeed, and I have much to do to get ready. I have made a list of my own personal money-saving ideas and realized, if done properly, the savings can purchase TWO plane tickets for me and Jim. Or, the money could go toward paying the cable bill for a year. Either way, it's a start.
I am planning baby-quilts and looking at material, something that's been on hold while working. I am picking up my writing exercises and looking at my violin. Maybe that's what the lull is for...getting my creative juices flowing again. There is much to do, achem...there is alot of FUN and JOY to be had...mine for the taking!
After the babies come, I will look for full-time work. But, I will remain open to the voice of the Lord, who can change my plans to line up with His, in an instant! Lord, continue to fill me daily and help me make good use of this lull!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Blast From the Past.1
But, I was thinking about our past and what brought us together in the first place, somewhat amazed that this friendship ever even got started. By my family's standards, her family was rich. Our parents did not know each other. She lived in the city; I lived in the country. She was popular, I was not. We had very few classes together. I was in orchestra, she was not. I don't remember how it all got started, but it did.
We had sleep-overs, or I would stay in town instead of taking the bus home and get a ride home with mom after work. We'd babysit together on her jobs and my jobs. We'd take the bus uptown and shop together, stopping at the White Drug Cafe, in the basement of the White Drug...for Tab's and french fries with catsup. (There was no Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi at the time, just Tab or Fresca!) At that time, the White Drug was located on the Penny's block in Fargo, ND.
As I reminiced, I realized our main connection was that we were both boy-crazy! Still, so was just about every girl out age. Then something else sunk in....she was a city girl who loved the country and I was a country girl who loved the city! Her Dad had a ranch with horses close to our farmstead and she loved horses. I liked them, too, but I had a motorcycle instead of a horse. We were from different worls and that appealed to each of us.
We drifted apart the last couple years of high schoool, but I would reccomend looking up your old friends...we picked up right where we left off and if there was any kind of old baggage...it vaporized with the years! At the time of our 40 year reunion, we hadn't seen each other for 30 years. I am so glad she is back in my life!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Making a Life in 2011
"You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing." The Forgotten Garden, by Kate Morton
THIS NEW YEAR will be different. No promises. No plans. Not even any really firm ideas. For years, I have been trying to simplify my life and I am getting there. It's a place that is comfortable. No huge expectations are looming over my head, unless I put them there...so I am trying to be kinder to myself. I am trying to complain less and remember how blessed I am. I know that if I do not like my circumstances, I can pray and also work towards change.
One of the changes I have been slowly working on is a healthier lifestyle. I am not in a hurry. I prefer progress over perfection in most things. (I will miss Coke Cake at Cracker Barrel but may be able to share one with a couple friends, down the road. Usually 3-4 bites with coffee suffices, anyway.) Some things I look forward to are: keeping up better with grandkids, not hating to have my picture taken, being able to buy clothes that fit just right in ALL the places, distance walking, having more reserve energy in my evenings with Jim, and being able to get off blood pressure medication.
As I strive for more physical stamina, I also strive for more spiritual awareness and knowledge. I am more faithful in my walk with Him and desire to obey and serve Him with all my heart, my soul, my mind, and my body. The Lord gave me a simple poem a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. As usual, He didn't finish it for me so I struggled through a sort of finish that still needs work:
CONTENTMENT
A full heart is what I have
Readjusted dreams come true
With memories worth the save
And some to throw away, too
Leave the past where it belongs
The future's bright to behold
No need to dwell on all the wrongs
Therefore, go forth! Be Bold!
THIS NEW YEAR will be different. No promises. No plans. Not even any really firm ideas. For years, I have been trying to simplify my life and I am getting there. It's a place that is comfortable. No huge expectations are looming over my head, unless I put them there...so I am trying to be kinder to myself. I am trying to complain less and remember how blessed I am. I know that if I do not like my circumstances, I can pray and also work towards change.
One of the changes I have been slowly working on is a healthier lifestyle. I am not in a hurry. I prefer progress over perfection in most things. (I will miss Coke Cake at Cracker Barrel but may be able to share one with a couple friends, down the road. Usually 3-4 bites with coffee suffices, anyway.) Some things I look forward to are: keeping up better with grandkids, not hating to have my picture taken, being able to buy clothes that fit just right in ALL the places, distance walking, having more reserve energy in my evenings with Jim, and being able to get off blood pressure medication.
As I strive for more physical stamina, I also strive for more spiritual awareness and knowledge. I am more faithful in my walk with Him and desire to obey and serve Him with all my heart, my soul, my mind, and my body. The Lord gave me a simple poem a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. As usual, He didn't finish it for me so I struggled through a sort of finish that still needs work:
CONTENTMENT
A full heart is what I have
Readjusted dreams come true
With memories worth the save
And some to throw away, too
Leave the past where it belongs
The future's bright to behold
No need to dwell on all the wrongs
Therefore, go forth! Be Bold!
Jim, Rainie, and me
(Rainie belongs to James and Jamie)
Rainie is our newest grandchild
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Sound of my Soul
always in time, but never in line for dreams.
Head over heels when toe to toe.
This is the sound of my soul,
this is the sound
I bought a ticket to the world,
but now I've come back again
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
Oh I want the truth to be said
Huh huh huh hu-uh huh
I know this much is true
Huh huh huh hu-uh huh
I know this much is true
This song came on the radio while I was feasting on the visual delight of Autumn in the Blue Ridge Mountains and surrounding hills. I thought...THIS is the sound of MY soul. When I see the creation in this season, I feel so close to God. My soul sings a song made up for me in this moment...as I enter this holy cathedral of Fall.
We are riding down the highway with trees crowding us on each side. They stand as a welcoming committee, trying to all shake hands at once, making me feel very rich and very wanted. It's God's private showing for me! Within the car, there was a hush, a peace of two people lost in their own thoughts but, united in the thoughts of the beauty around us. Our silence was our homage, as the wonder of creation cancelled any need to talk or even think about anything other than gratitude and a desire to be forgiven the days transgressions and be unblemished in His presence.
All of a sudden, we are surrounded by big pine trees, green, green, green...where did Fall go? It was so abrupt, like crossing from the north to the south. Fall there, summer here...except we were traveling north! After several miles, stood a beacon in crinsom burgundy, among the pines. Ah! Soon, the pines grew taller with bare trunks, green-tipped like paintbrushes. Then we began to see colorful ladies peeking through the trunks, begging to play!
Shadows start to lengthen and the sun spotlights a stand of trees in encore...one last time before the dusk. The moon appears as a cloud, but gives itself away with it's nearly perfect shape...the sky and trees consprie to trickery one last time before sunset. What a fun day of driving to Virginia!
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