Yvonne Annette

Counting to 159

Published on October 25, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Day One and 18 rows completed. Doing the math means approximately ten days of 15 rows per day to crochet this project. Finding the first picture early in July just after we were told there is another grand baby on the way, I knew this one was next. Study of the pattern told me that counting was going to be crucial. So here goes for some in sequence and some simply the pattern design, I am counting away.

Beginning the Extended Moon Bear baby blanket for grand baby six!

The book keeping me company is Bryan Jaques “The Long Patrol.” The first listen took me through my dragonfly shawl. This is the second go around. I hope to stop it more often.

Thursday I also learned that taking breaks from crochet is also neck saving. Really, the stiffness sure settles in after one row of concentration. So I am back to cleaning house. The recent rain brought some cooler weather, so now I can wash rugs and dry them without feeling guilty for over taxing the electrical grid in my zest for a clean house.

It’s Day Two on the pattern and page one of the written instructions has been read and completed. That’s 25 rows Hot Off The Hook. Another interesting discovery was the classical music piece “The Dance of the Hours.” I thought that was rather funny after talking to my sister about making the time pass by. She’s retired by physical handicap of blindness and much of the day is watching the hands on the clock spin round. Thus the “dance of the hours!”

Day two ended at row 30. The counting on such an intricate pattern is more sporatic now, so it will take me more time to complete one row.

Day four Row 39 and counting… It’s the weekend though so my hook was only pulling yarn in between all other activites. We had a church outreach hour at the fair, and I played piano for that and the service today. Of course it was all by memory. Though I did brush up on trying to read “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” after I forgot some of the order on those ridiculous turns of melody. Also, someone was trying to lead from her seat in the audience and that did no good as I could not hear the singer. Oh, well. That’s over.

The guys started on replacing the rotten framing pieces of the greenhouse. So Saturday, I did a little clean up and got out the brush and linseed oil for the wood. Any thing that was not oiled, rotted. Bugger that’s a lot of structure to replace. It has been ten years since the build and five years from the north facing attempt. We will do a better job of drip shield and letting the building breathe.

Day Five begins at row 37. We are starting to see the moon! And momma bear just informed the gender reveal party is being planned. We chatted through the whole month of August and that just made me tired. I am so excited for them. It is fun to dream, plan, and look to the future.

We tried to go to the local state park for a walk last night. Had to carry our poor little Shih Tzu as the temperatures stayed over eighty for the evening. He just does not do well in the heat. So we had to carry him and add some weight to our exercise plan. We went to the summit and sat on a picnic bench for a long visit just taking in the nice weather. After we came back home, we had to sit outside some more as it arrived at “weather that you cannot feel.” What an enjoyable evening.

Back to the list for Monday. Do dishes, replace the rugs, oil the wood panels for the greenhouse, and crochet between every chore completed.

Row 52 is the beginning of day… umm…six, It’s a little confusing because yesterday was my grand kids day. Once a week I go hang out at their house all day. I get to be the “adult” when mommy goes on her errands. The two and a half year old has speech therapy and yesterday I think it was a dentist visit. We had some sunshine rain in the middle of the afternoon and the older three had to end their backyard camping trip to come inside and dry out their belongings. What adventures children can imagine to have. They hiked around the yard with backpacks on, camped at the mountain summit on the back deck and really stayed quite occupied with thier imaginations. Until we start counting the door opening and shutting for the amount of times each kid enters and exits without the other on their heals. So instead of opening the door once, it’s three times the bustling noise! Oh, dear!

Needless to say, I have quite the allergy sinus headache ache today. It is wrapping around my left eye which feels much like a stye is coming on. But I don’t want to spend the day whining about it. Kona had his August haircut day. And now the temperature have dipped into the fall cooling off at night. So we have a cuddly puppy once again.

Found another book to read today. “Dogs, boys, and other things that make me cry” is a novel memoir about a dog photographer. I guess someone has to take the pictures for all those puppy calendars that I like. Not too impressed about the boy stories but the relationship wisdom the lady learned was definitely the school of hard knocks.

The blanket pattern is now at row 65. These baby sizes are faster than I thought. So I guess that makes me more than one third done. Perhaps it will be completed in just two weeks of crochet time. Then I can make another one I suppose.

Please don’t judge me, but I finally took a swig of Tylenol with codiene cough syrup last night to stop the coughing. Sometimes it feels like the allergies actually are turning into bronchitis when the cough won’t stop. The muscles get so tight, I simply cannot relax. So for the first time in over a week, I slept well. Day six on the counting begins!

One week, day seven and little moon bear has a nose and one eye! Yesterday I made it to row 76 and my allergies reached a new level of misery. My asthma demanded medicine by six p.m. nearly three hours earlier than the day before. I was so exhausted I fell asleep at Wee Willy Winky time, eight o’clock. My eyes just would not stay open any longer.

This morning I dragged my limbs out of the covers thirteen hours after the shut eye. The nebulizer is calling my name, but I wanted to finish my book on the dog foster lady. She got married and lives happily ever after. At least it ended well!

Now I’m recalculating, just like the old GPS navigation and at ten rows per day of crochet, it will probably take me another two weeks. The weekends aren’t very productive when there is another body in the house and he is so distracting! It’s Friday and we begin at row 77. Next book search is first, I can’t sit and listen to my own thoughts for very long, ya’ know!

It’s Monday. “Today as I thought about you..“. I began to smile. They are to find out the baby gender day. Oh, how every day for the rest of their lives will be marked by something baby. I was trying to clean some things in my desk and came across the the little sassy two year old’s picture. She was wearing the little teddy bear jumper that either my mom or Aunt Audery sewed for her. That was such a rough day. In the middle of my ITP migraine month and just after we moved to Iowa. I had to wake the girls up to get ready for a photo session with some lady that two large dalmation guard dogs. This little girl was not a happy child that day.

We were gone yesterday and Kona had a bad reaction to one person. Not sure if he was sleeping and wake up to the conversation forgetting where he was or what. He also did not like that his male person left us for a while to “shop.” It was almost like a seizure, he was so scared at the moment. I just held him and turned him away from the supposing “attacker.” He has really never done that before. I also think maybe he saw some spiritual being lurking in the background. It was that kind of moment.

Here we are Monday, and at row 88! Actually row 92 is complete and another page of the pattern. Finally was able to visit with my little sister and found out all of her happenings. She is in the little kid phase of life and pregnant so life is quite chaotic. I do feel for her. We are in the “they all think we are a money tree” moment in life. From the dishwasher, to the pickup to the propane fill, life is begging for money from us just as soon as the hfeet hit the floor. Uff dah!

I spent the week in book listening and arriving at row 121 by Friday evening. Of course, I had a food reaction Monday evening and missed my weekly visit to grand kiddos. So I worked on a basket for a day or so and then we had the baby gender party. So in reality I only worked on the little moon bear for three days this week. Thursday is the picture on the right at about row 100. Then today was begun around 108 and ending at 121. The rows go so mush slower when I am distracted in my counting.

Because I cannot share this blog until after mommy sees it, I worked on a couple of other blog interims. I cannot spend all my time counting, so today we did some laundry and some puppy cuddling. Little black Kona woke up with a minor tummy upset and has been real cuddly today.

Then there is the troublesome thought that momma dearest is going for a puppy theme room instead of teddy bears. Bother. Not sure what the situation will be for my changing persona. Bother, that’s all I can say. The little moon bear is still pretty adorable, is it not?

The shower is this week! Yay I finally get to share this post! It’s been holding for two months.

Testimony Time

Published on October 12, 2026October 12, 2026 by yvonneannette2 Comments

How shall there be a testimony without a test? Can one testify to the faithfulness of God if that faith has not been tested?

My sister in law went home to her Lord and Savior a week ago today. My heart has been in my throat stopping up any words that ever I might have had for over two weeks as we awaited the call of her Lord upon her body. I had a dream one night about her telling me she was no longer cold all the time, and soon Jesus was going to call her name and she would go to Him. We ached, we cried, we rejoiced.

My husband’s sister had more testimony than most. Her first husband passed, then her young daughter died young, and yet, she was faithful. Just as God was there for her, she was there in the community for so many people. The largess of one’s testimony is not truly experienced until the grieving days. The out pouring of people and their time, gifts, and flowers at the funeral is a natural reaction to the testimony of a believers faith.

The children’s sermon on Sunday after all the eventful week was about the overflowing love and faithfulness of the heavenly Father. We had just witnessed this overflow. The love of the Lord was an overflow in Monica’s life to all those she met. And that love was poured back into her family in their moment of grief.

Psalm 23 has a phrase… “my cup runneth over” that follows the concept that God has prepared a table before us in the very presence of our enemies. And yet, He blesses us so abundantly that our cup runs over. We just witnessed the truth of that passage. While it seemed so much had been taken from Monica throughout her life, yet God had blessed more. God took away, but He also gave, to the point of overflowing cup of love.

There are so many little things that one remembers of another. Some of those stories are just for our own grieving hearts to heal. Other memories come at just the right moment to bring a smile that wipes away a current tear.

This moment of grief is bittersweet. We have grieved much these last two years with passing of parents and other relatives. It seems fitting that our dear sister who mourned much in her life should have her joy and rest after this season of sorrow in our lives. One’s heart can only endure so much sorrow. We are thankful for the little lives that have joined us these past two years. Her grandsons, our little grandson and another on the way, reminds us that God turns our sorrow into joy.

Lord, I am reminded of the song “Trading my sorrows” that was popular a number of years ago. I ask that you would turn our grief to rejoicing as we remember Monica and her love for You. Lift our spirits with the hope that only eternal reunions can bring. May the sweet by and by become sweeter every day.

Psalm 126:5-6 “those who sow in tears, shall reap with joy. He who continually goes forth weeping bearing seed for sowing shall doubtless come again with rejoicing Bringing the sheaves with him.”

My dear sister in law lived this verse to full and overflowing spreading the seeds of love and eternal hope wherever she went. And we rejoice that someday, her family and the rest of us, shall be gathered once again in the heavenly realms as great sheaves of harvest. How fitting that she should go home to those who have gone before during harvest season.

Unwell: book review and other thought

Published on September 23, 2026October 28, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Unwell Women by Elinor Cleghorn: a book review and my own story of those who did not have ears to hear.

When I came across this history of women’s health in the medical field, I first thought, why not? Then as I listened to the book, I thought, why of course all these things happened. It is a male dominated world after all and these is nothing more normal than men trying to keep women out of their “dominant” fields. Why should I want to read a book that makes man the enemy once again?

For nearly thirty some years, I have been working hard at my notions and thoughts about men. Once I heard a story through the grapevine vine about one of my brothers hearing my mother and her sister “rag” on their husbands. Oh how easy it is to pick up on the negative nancy, bitter complaining, murmuring ways of the past. Are men really to blame for all the fall outs in my family. Or is it the age old problem begun way back in the garden of eden, where one blames the other?

So my story in the medical field has nothing to do with my husband and just has a few minor details about men being “not so intelligent” in the way they handled my case. Yet, there was a moment when a female physician put a note in my charts that angered me much also.

How do we move from bitterness about the past to gratitude in the present? This is something that has been on my mind for a long while now. There are two women in my life who have shaped my thoughts about this. And a few men also that I realize had the total opposite thought process. It is amazing how grief and deep wounds can leave a gaping hole that does not allow one any ounce of empathy for another person’s wounds. And when we color our world with our own grief we are unable to see that other people are aching alos.

After reading the book over two months ago, we had another season of grieving in our lives. First my uncle, then my sister in law. Though the time seemed to drag on in our mourning, finding God’s grace in the midst of us was not hard. The orchestration of my uncle’s memorial service and graveside sermonette was so God blessed that I could not ignore the presence of the Almighty. Then the passing of my sister in law here during harvest season was another God timed event for the home going of His beloved. When we focus too much on the past, our eyes are not opened to the Presence of God here in the present moment.

Another prayer shawl was worked off the hook during this time of grieving. I found the “trinity” stitch online and decided to use up the abundance of pink that is in that tote. I also decided that my living spaces are much too eclectic in color and some solid color pillows would help ancor the room a little more into the colors that are present within the afghans that I love. So I tore apart two pillows to make one. The box weave sweater stitch seemed like the best texture pillow to add to the view from here.

“Unwell” is not a book that I would choose to read on my own. It was in my recommended by others list on my audio app. Yeah, I would probably not choose it again. Sorry. It was just way too depressing and not very world encompassing. The setting was mostly UK and USA which makes it seem even worse considering these are the affluent countries in the world. Yet I suppose what have we to consider byt the curse upon women from Gemesis chapter three about bearing children?

In my color scan of the room, I finally decided that oatmeal / buffalo, ivory and burgundy are the most frequently used. Maybe I should be more thoughtful in the blankets that I crochet, to find colors that fit into my home better. I do remember that my grandmother’s crocheted items all had an element of orange to them. And honestly, claret / burgundy / cranberry has been in my life a long time. My boyfriend (now husband) had a burgundy car when we were dating. Our first sofa that we recovered was done in a dark wine color. The third or fourth large afghan that I crocheted was that color. And the remnant’s of that yarn are what is in the pillow above.

While my allergies and asthma are still a threat to my wellbeing, I refuse to think of myself as unwell. Just being alive often means that life has it’s good days and bad days. We made a beef stew the other day loaded with roots and veggies. I am allergic to potatoes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have carrots, parsnips, rutabagas and cabbage. It was so good! Parsley, salt, pepper, and a little Worstershire made it perfect for topping with some herb and butter dumplings. My saliva still waters at the thought of it.

I realized that this fall once again, the smell of canning and harvest is missing from the house. The bone broth smelled up the house for the weekend, but it’s just not the same as canned apples, seasoned tomato sauce, or spicy salsa. Yet I am okay that harfest passed me by this year. My energy level for such activities is just=not what it used to be.

At this moment, I am well. My allergies give me a constant tickle in the sinuses as the weather turns colder and the leaves begin to fall. However, I was able to work an hour or so at a time to get the greenhouse ready for all those pretty flowers. And while I could write about all that it would not fit in this blog. So as well as I can be, fall settles into the air, the ground, and the world around us. The fields are being harvested and I already pulled the gladiolus out of the ground. My nine bulbs have become 21! And will be stored in the cereal box wrapped in newpaper until next year.

I’m glad to be done with another book review that I was not to fond of reading. Life often means living without perfection. And being in perfect health… well, not many of us have that.

Fear not

Published on September 11, 2026September 11, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Remembering this day, 25 years after the event that changed our country. Here is a bit of what I experienced.

We were living in a rental in a very small town in Iowa. My husband was at work, and he called me to say, I should probably turn the television on and watch what was happening. I did.

I know that I made a flag etiquette error in choosing to put the flag under the shadow of these old acreage trees. It is my goal to find a new home for the flag pole where the flag can be”stand alone” in it’s cry of freedom amidst the home of the brave.

Really, it was probably not the best thing for my young children to see in live footage. My girls were only eight and six at the time. My father in law had colon cancer, with but three of his treatments following surgery completed. My niece had just died unexpectedly in July. And my grandmother had just moved into a nursing facility with end stage life taking her on the journey towards her end. Life was full of death and woe at that moment in our family. My husband had also just finished a few weeks off after an unfortunated accident at work that put him on bed rest for a time.

Watching death happen in real time was not exactly what we needed to see on the day that we all know as an emergency number. It’s hard to believe that there are kids who were not born yet, who now think they can text nine one one. Really? Really?

In these past twenty five years, much has happened to reshape the family and the people that are now my circle. My children are grwon and married. My daughters in full fledged motherhood are looking forward to giving me grand child number six. My in laws are now passed on along with my father. Several uncles and aunts have gone ahead of us also into eternal life.

How do we teach the history in a way that helps our children, grand children and our newest citizens to be properly reactive and to fear not. It is such a learned behavior to whine and fuss about all things rather than react in confidens and wisdom. Some children are little nuclear reactors to everything they experience whereas others are calm and peaceful, brave and stable. Helping children to be winners during any moment through the day is a never ending constant parenting. Leading a child into life in ferocious confidence, is key to one’s survival when life happens in a way that is unexpected.

Fear not.

Teaching fear not means being fear not. Some days I wonder why my body is reacting to life in the way that it does. I am studying health and nutrition in a deep dive like never before because there is not much life left for me to live. I want to live the rest of my life, not just survive whatever happens to me in the next many years. I want to live life, really LIVE.

So many moments in time are frozen in time as the attacks of terrorists took the future from them. Living through the terror there are so many who learned fear that they could never have considered. Knowing cruelty and horror. There were many who afterwards, not being part of the recovery or emergency response, who would feel guilt for going on living.

That day, we went right out and bought a flag. We had left our pole and flag in the country of the house we just sold. Living in a rental house was not our “dream life.” But the day changed us. We decided to do a couple of “living” choices. We took a family trip on a train in Wisconsin about three weeks later, and then chose to purchase a modular home to put on the family homestead . And here we are.

How is it that in the face of death many fear life? Yet we did. Then it became evident that fear is what the enemy wanted for us. NO! I began to tell myself and my children we will fear not, I will not fear. I will live and live life to the fullest.

Today the news in just the past year has been dark. A mother of three innocent children in her intense fear of the day and morrow took their lives with her own. bare hands and has lived to be acquitted of this hideous evil. How is it that others will now follow in her lead and take the very lives they so labored to birth? This is vain and abominable sin. What right has she to go on breathing after taking such horrid actions? And then also is the talk that a man who spoke truth deserved to die for his speech that offended others.

What makes people fear mere words and take such offense at the expressed word? Has the darkness that took down the towers twenty five years ago entered the spirit of this land that once claimed such freedom? What freedom is there if one should fear lest he or she say the wong thing and be shot?

Fear not.

In twenty five years the darkness has grown more menacing and cruel. Sin has not been called such. Yet God is light and in Him is no darkness at all. (I John chapter one). I shall fear only the God of Light who alon can turn his back leave a land in utter darkness.

Oh, that I would not be Jonah and run the opposite direction when I see the land of Nineveh in such need. I will fear not to share God’s light and be the hope in the midst of this dark night.

Fear not

Psalm 23:4. “Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear evil; for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff they comfort me.”

The Crochet Corner

Published on September 1, 2026September 1, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Today the moment of complete disrepair was my loss of a crochet hook. And I’m pretty fussy about changing hook brands during a project. The length of the shaft from hook to flat makes a big difference on the stitch tension. The whole item can get crooked or simply loose it’s comfort or softness.

This morning, the day after my mother in law’s birthday, I thought that I was doing okay emotionally. Until… until the I lost the crochet hook that I was using in my current project. After tearing apart the basket of yarn, the corner compilations of things, the blanket on the sofa protecting it from the the visiting dog slobber, and gernerally moving everything to and fro, the hook is still not united with the project.

The Hammerstein Cinderella movie from my early childhood was not something I ever saw as a child. My girls were gifted with the VHS cartridge of the movie and we watched it nearly as many times as they did Mary Poppins. The song, “In my own little corner” could easily have been my theme song from childhood and through adult years. I find the comfy corner in just about any setting I find myself

At church, it is generally at the piano, and yes, it is nearly tucked into the corner, only just displaced by the drum set next to it. Many times throughout my life in significant events, I was the one who used the piano in the corner to “entertain” or lead the singing. Growing up church, I was just stage left of the pulpit. Only because the back office and old stairway were far left, did the piano not truly sit in the corner. In high school, I found myself also often tucked in the stage left of all of the happenings on the stage, pounding out the accompaniment for the choir or the jazz band. Then on I went through college, playing for the interfaith fellowship weekly, local church choir, or other happening. After marriage, my placement did not change much. I did try center stage music ministry for a time, but it was not meant to be. The music that I composed still floats about in my head often crashing upon the shoreline in a tidal wave of memory and private worship times.

Crochet pattern kaleidoscope shawl just looked up a tutorial video and followed the pattern

My daughter’s growing up years found me also in the corner on the sidelines of their accomplishments at the piano. That also eventually failed, as their ability soon became beyond mine. They had other hands at the piano and I was happy to hear them become such very good musicians. I also had a chair or two that kept me “cornered” through their home schooling years. It was my “old school ma’rm” chair and I really have not sat in it much after they went to college and got married. Though it is comfy for me, I do not move my crochet projects about the house to sit in different chairs.

So in my own little corner of the living room, I set up a work station complete with baskets for devotional time, pottery cup with hooks and scissors, table for drink cup, and anything thing else that I might desire is within reaching distance. It’s not that I can be anyone I want to be there. I pretty much feel like “ME” most of the time. It is my creative corner both to use my hands and my brain and stay active in my sedate position!

The phone rings and from my corner I am still a wife, a mother, grandma “Oma,” a sister, a daughter, a niece, a sister in law, a crochet artist, a writer, and so much more. God has gifted me I know with a creative spirit. Sometimes, the old projects are ripped apart and made new. Somedays my ideas of who I really am get ripped apart also as God works on renewing my heart to be His child.

Today as I moved all of the items in my corner searching for my hook, I wondered once again…. What lesson is God trying to teach me in this?

The hook and project are still not united. Our family going the grief process in our recent loss of my father’s brother is also not united in physical form. Though we are united in our wonderment of why 66% of people do not have a will when death is such a guaranteed outcome of living? Yet there is the statistic and we all fall into it. Most of us do not plan for our death.

Okay, maybe these thoughts are all too morbid, but why do we ignore the inevitable? Meanwhile, loss and grief are all so common to us all. Yet some people take it upon themselves to think they are somehow “special” in their own experience and believe that no one else could ever have it as bad as they have. Really? Yes, everyone has their own set of life’s experiences, but should not these help us to relate to others going through similar life happenings. Death is not a singular event. We all have the loss of loved ones, parents, siblings, or children. Living involves loss.

The crochet hooks is still no where for me to find it. I finished one lovely kaleidoscope crochet shawl last week, and enjoyed the process so much I started another. There it sits. Without the correct size hook, it will be left alone for the day. When I have nothing other than crochet I literally feel LOST. I run about with my head chopped off wondering if cleaning is all there is to life I’d rather not live. Okay, it’s not that bad. But my husband would say “Yest it is.”

Books are my imagination escape. If it weren’t for books I would also be lost. I subscribe to an audio book app and that keeps me occupied most of the time. I finally got the BAARD set up on my phone also, and those are free. Then I can download four or five books, and just keep trying them and deleting until one peaks my interest. Sometimes I am not so discerning and pure entertainment is preferred to somehting more historical or educational.

This past month I came across “Mrs. Pargeter’s Mysteries.” While I do not give the books high marks, they did keep me entertained while I crocheted for the better part of two weeks. The final thought that I had after considering why I had spent my time listening to criminal mafia type comedy mysteries was – so that is what a “docier” is… french word maybe for keeping a list of someone’s wrongs towards a person or group that when reaching a certain said sin load would result in the call made for a hit or death wish. I decided that indeed a docier is what a lot of people keep for other’s whom they hold life long grudges and family enemies. I refuse to hold a docier of anyone in my mind or in my heart. Forgiveness has to be the rule in my relationships.

While maybe we are human and we have a difficult time forgetting how others have wronged us, If God can forgive me through Jesus, surely I ought to forgive others. Perhaps forgetting is not always wise, if we can remember without animosity and let it spur us on to be better and do better, that is good. Remembering the past mistakes of others is a lesson learned. And it should make us want to repay evil with good. So that was how listening to those books helped me. And when I mention things my moms said to me, it is so that I can respond with empathy and compassion to my daughters when they tell me things.

It’s been a rough day, but once again I am reminded of my own mother’s “someone always has it worse” stories and bad news reports anytime I felt like I had a bad day. She could always find some negative news item to make me feel like my day was sunshine and roses. Comparing my own happenings to the floods in Napal or the Grand Canyon, or the fires in Nevada just doesn’t make me feel any better, mom! Yeah, I know someone else might have it worse, but could you just say, “I’m sorry, you are having a rough day?” I learned at an early age that my feelings would never be validated. If I was ever looking for someone to weep with me, laugh with me, or just care I best be going to Jesus.

Oh, and the crochet hook is still lost. I have spent well over three hours moving things and looking for it. At this point in the day I am about to say the devil ate my crochet hook. I mean, he probably does not like my crochet and pray hours. So unless I go and buy another hook, the current project will ramain unfinished.

Conclusion of lessons learned from my crochet corner hooks and books already accomplished. However, today is another rough day for some of my people. So many prayer requests laid down at the foot of the cross, it is time to start the praises for what great deeds God has already done in our lives. The first being that I found my hook! I dug through my hook collection and found that the size I needed was “I” not “H” and begin working. I finished one color addition and grabbed the scarlet skein and there was the I – hook that I lost, embedded in the center of the skein that I handled nearly four times trying to find. Wow! Now Lord be the provider in all of these other prayer requests that I lift up to you now, and Thank You for being our supply!

The one uncle

Published on August 27, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Sometimes it feels necessary to sum up one moment in life with a statement or feeling, or overwhelming conscious thought. This past week is one of those moments in my life. A dear uncle of mine passed away rather expected but shockingly so it happened, alone and without the knowledge of anyone in the family for a matter of days. The week for me began with a rather inconspicuous heartburn problem that seemed to have no digestive cause. The “heartburn” lasted until exactly the hour that I learned of my Uncle’s passing. Why was my spirit so vexed within me?

I was on a ten day streak of shortened sleeping hours for no apparent reason also. Some nights no more that two or three hours of actual sleep found me wondering just what really is going on here. We had a lot of phone conversations among family for the first week of the news until the decision was made that some of us do feel the need to honor his life and the contribution that he gave to each of us in our life’s journey.

Just because someone does not ever acknowledge the Maker of heaven and earth publicly, does it mean that we should no less be thankful to the maker for their influence in our lives? Or rather can we be thankful for the the difficult people in our lives just as we are grateful for the everyday people that help the world go around? Yes, scripture tells us that we are to be thankful in every thing. In all circumstance’s giving thanks always for all that God does in our lives and through the people around us that we might give God the glory. Even if they do not.

Before I share some of my favorite memories, I first want to share some of my dad’s favorite memories that he shared with me those last weeks before his passing.

Once when he and his brother were just pre-teens, they and a couple of neighbor boys were put in charge of driving some cattle across a number of miles to new pasture land. They seem so young to be on such a big mission, but for both of them it was a real highlight of their growing to manhood. At one point, my dad fell asleep while telling the story again, and then began muttering that he was trying to find his brother. They would often be out all day on horseback bringing cows home, or moving them to different pastures. They truly were the American cowboys that one sees in the picture books.

Another story is about boxing gloves that one of their friends or cousins was given as a gift. There was many a rowe with their friends as the boys dug into each other to beat one or the other in a boxing match. At one point, one of the older boys goaded my dad into fighting him even though there was quite an age, height, and weight difference. My dad was fiesty enough to land the boy a hit to the gut that took his air away and he caved in letting my dad take the win. Hearing him tell the story was quite hilarous as the exaggerations improved upon each telling.

My earliest memories of my Uncle were as a little toddler standing up on the seat of the pickup cushion with my arms reaching out to touch either shoulder. At one point I could hold it in no longer and my dad says I rubbed my Uncle’s head and said, “You don’t have any hair up here.” He replied as always on his baldness, “Hair is like grass, It does not grow on a busy street.”

My uncle had a self confidence that outshined his stuttering speech. His ego and male magnetism was not always a positive trait. And it often rubbed people the wrong way. Late in his life many of the relatives believed that he may have had autism or some other smart brain social disfunction. But for those of us that did visit with him occasionally his intelligence made for easy conversation.

Of all my uncles, my dad’s brother is the only phone number in my phone, in which HE actually called me. That does make it seem rather special that we have this ability to honor him with a memorial service and spend some time celebrating his life.

My Uncle was an engineer, a wood working hobbyist, a distance range management land holder, a political activist, a writer (dropping lines to new paper editors frequently), and so much more. When I was a little girl all I new was that he helped build airplanes. To encourage my love of math in early high-school years, he gave me a photo of prototype Boeing 737 and signed the back of it for my birthday.. I am rather sad the picture was ruined by weather a number of years ago. But I remember it clearly.

My Uncle was also one of the few people of my relatives that seemed to really enjoy asking me about my greenhouse and how things were going with it. We could discuss herbs, plants, bugs, and soil content with ease and it was always a stimulating conversation. He also loved music, and thoroughly enjoyed hearing about my daughters and their accomplishments through the years. I remember having a discussion about the purchase of their instruments and the makers of each after they acquired the violins, cello, and viola each. He was so well rounded in his knowledge.

My Uncle’s wood lathe hobby was also an inspiration to my father in law. And sharing some of the items that my uncle made often inspired my dad in law to try his hand at certain toy making and kitchen utensils. The coffee scoops that my Uncle turned out of cherry wood or apple wood are some of my favorite. I use them every single day.

What I learned most from my Uncle was how to encourage young people and listen to what they are interested in. I enjoy asking my grand kids or other children “intelligent” questions and getting them to express their thoughts in more than just one word answers. While there were times my Uncle seemed overbearing to others, or a little fixed on a particular subject that i knew nothing aboout, the good that he taught me out weights the bad. And while I never heard him acknowledge that the Supreme Intelligence is the giver of all knowledge and wisdom, I know that God is Him who makes one smart and another not so much. Yet we can learn from every day people just the same as we can learn from those far above our station.

In my coffee grounds jar there lies a scoop, a measure for my daily portion of caffiene allowance, it is the gift of my Uncle’s handiwork and I shall treasure it as I treasure the memory of his input in my life.

One cannot ever really find themself, one is only found by the Great Shepherd. We are all at our core lost sheep. Only by the grace of the Holy Spirit our ears are opened to hear the voice of the Shepherd calling out name. Isaiah 53: “All we like sheep have gone astray, each of us to our own way.”

Hearing that my Uncle was found a day or so after his summons to death was so sad to me. His spending so much of his life alone, and knowing his eyesight loss was similar to mine, it pained me to hear that he was discovered deceased by his good confidant and cousin. How hard it is to go through the personal belongings and try to find all of the important documents and such. How hard it is to make those calls to the officials and the relatives. In the face of death, life marches on and so much has to be accounted for.

What truth does God have for me in Christ during this moment as our family makes the transition to life without my uncle. Of course those who had daily interaction and weekly phone calls, and monthly business dealings, all find themselves making changes.

My life at such a distance will only be affected in the memories and the planned gatherings, and the many phone calls remembering. What matters most I think is how I feel like I did not get to share the truth about God’s gift of my Uncle, to him. I never told him that I believed God gave him an intelligent mind to stimulate those around him to do more and be more. I am also sorry that our visits never got into the spiritual side very often. It just seemed the moment was never right for me to share things along that line of conversation.

I am not without hope, though, as my Uncle was the one who orchestrated both of his parent’s memorial services, with daughters and I providing the music. Both of the services were Christianity based and the gospel message shared. He also attended my dad’s memorial service and told me how pleased he was of his nieces and nephews aftewards.

Fruit basket upset

Published on August 24, 2026August 25, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Proverbs 27:18 “Whoever keeps the fig tree will eat its fruit, so he who waits on his master will be honored.”

Books this month: “My brother’s keeper” about Gettysburg during civil war. Fellowship of the rings again. “The Long Patrol” by Bryan Jaques, Theo of Golden, 30 Key Moments in the history of Christianity, a mystery about dethroning a blackmail agency, and a modern descriptive journal of an 1880’s young lady. The books have been keeping me company while I count to 159. But meanwhile, I took some breaks to make some baskets.

Journal sibling happenings not an option as someone might read it. So I will leave my much bothered adult siblings and in laws out of the writings. We have had hospitalizations, cancer scares, trip chronicles, parent talks, and exciting baby to be news to share. We still communicate much so that is all a plus!

Journal garden mishaps are not interesting at all. One of the petunia plants in the cream can planters just up and croaked. Not sure why, except it was very soggy! The good news is that my little row of mixed zinnias are in full bloom and the colors are so vibrant. Also the gladiolas that I managed to return to the soil are also putting out the glorious colors and tipping over, I need to get a string up to help them stay upright. The lilies in the various gardens have loved the moisture we are finally getting. And those blooms also stand out in the landscape.

Journal crochet is okay because that keeps me most occupied. While I cannot post the baby blanket until someone sees it first, I will keep chatting up the other projects that I do during breaks from the ever concentrated counting. Some rows sure take me a long time if I’m listening to well to my book on audio. I also don’t always listen very well on the phone as I finish my counting sequenceQ

The baskets have been so fun. The three five gallon pail size were stiffened with some wood glue mixed with water. It took a couple of days to dry in the sunshine or in the bathtub. The little one is an ice cream pail size. I tried a new technique for the stiffness. Crochet a chain using two strands of yarn, then crochet the basket using a single crochet continuum. I was so excited about the natural ability of the basket to stand up, that I immediately began a medium size basket.

Mental health awareness. Hope while focusing on today can sometimes be tricky. Scripture says not to worry about tomorrow because there will be enough troubles in this day alone. There are days that the distant future scares me. Especially if I start thinking about my eyesight or lack thereof. I worry about certain adjustments in lifestayle for myself and those around me.

Three basket sizes completed this last month. The medium and small done with the crochet chain and single crochet continuum method.

Allergy reactions that cause phobia. Anxiety over every bite can be pretty nerve wracking. So eating out has been dropped down to a minimum for the last few weeks. We have to be so careful when ordering food even at simple things. I am about ready to visit an integrated health provider and start figuring out this gut health thing.

Pets and such are generally okay to journal about, except that my son-in-law just had to say goodbye to his eleven year old cat. It was a hard way to let a cat go. No one likes that daily routine change. We miss the constance of pets when they are no longer with us. Right now we have a visiting tom cat that is much like a siren or Casper the ghost. Not real friendly but brave enough to attempt eating on the back deck. I have not seen an all out fight happen, but it seems likely.I call him Siren as he announces his presence in such a fashion. Pretty bold actually.

The fruit basket upset in our life is mostly that the fig tree simply could not handle the spider mite pressure. I also think that a water filter is in the happenings for the greenhouse. We use rural water that is system treated and occasionally the plants roots simple give up under the treated water in the soil. So this fall I will get some rich compost and some more fertilizer for the whole house after the sides get put back together. The whole outer shell is being replaced. Which actually means that right now, the building is naked. I’m planning on doing it in green instead of white. We’ll see if the color change acts as a good luck charm!

Well, I delayed this post long enough that hubby got the last of the wood shell on the dome yesterday. We worked together some until the head cold he had the week prior took up residence in my head. I’m a bit under the weather, but grand doggy comes this week for a vacation stay while my daughter and son in law go on a trip. It’s time to wrap this up and write about something more significant.

Burgundy or Chocolate?

Published on July 27, 2026July 31, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

The last three weeks have been the start of many writings. My journal entries are so scattered. Pinning down an over riding thought or lesson in what the Lord has been teaching me is difficult to grasp. This past month marked the one year anniversary of my dad’s passing. So much and so little has changed since last year. All the days that I thought about telling him something so that his mind’s eye could see what I was describing to him, all the days have passed like a blur. And yet, I still want to tell him, or my mom in law or dad in law something funny that their great grand kids have done. I still hear their voices in some odd everyday happening sharing their bits of wisdom and truths.

Today, struggling to see the difference between burgundy and chocolate I once again wondered how my dad might solve this dilemma. Of course he never crocheted, but he did with help color code his closet of shirts. Red and one end and blue and the other. Funny that while helping my mom put away her laundry after a recent hospital and rehab center visit, she too had some system of color coding in her closet. I feel rather foolish that I have not done the same yet. Especially with my failing eyesight. It would be quite helpful. Why had not I put the burgundy ball of yarn in a separate basket?

We are getting a rainy day for the first time in a month. It is cloudy and overcast with just enough moisture to make the surfaces wet. An actual rain dropping sound would be amazing, but we’ll get what we get, right? I remember clearly my mother in law telling me about the year that the corn still put on a crop just by pulling moisture from the air all season. Wow. So grateful for every “wet” day that we get.

The attempt at making baskets was successful. I actually got three done. They are about four gallon size, I used a five gallon pail to stiffen one so far. One cup of wood glue in two quarts of water, Soak the basket, then pull it over the up turned pail with a plastic bag to keep from adhering to the pail. Drying took about two days. First in the sunshine then in the house because it decided to rain!

Our rule is leave the windows open and pray that will bring some rain!

Well, I lost half of my blog by using the update on a secondary device. Bummer. The large tote of yarn that I bought of market place had some real finds. One was a skein of Alpaca Denim Gold for worth nearly 60 dollars. I made a dragonfly shawl. It’s pretty. I spent the first two hours sorting all of the types of yarn. Also finished a kaleidoscope afghan with some number six yarn. That was a real slippery thread.

My book reads this month worth mentioning are “Theo of Golden” and “My Brother’s Keeper” a civil war diary. Both are middle school to early adult reads. The second was one my mother found at the library in her Rehab Center library. The first a media recommend. I liked them both but did not immediately repeat.

The gardens have been weeded and preen spread. I was so tired of the chore. A box of preen was well worht the effort. The rain has been wonderful as I don’t have haul watering cans those days. The front boxes look lovely this year and the begonia’s on the front dect look amazing after i found a shady spot for them to live. The fig trees are on stuggle bus fashion as the spider mites and aphids are hard to keep at bay. I need to feed the soil I think.

Meanwhile, keeping track of colors of yarn continues to be a challenge. I use my phone apps frequently to tell the difference between colors when there are no wraps on the skeins.

There might be some grand lesson to learn over the last moth, but for the most part I am just struggling to breathe. My nebulizer and I have become well acquainted even though I loath sitting still and not doing anything. Books or videos keep my brain occupied while I puff away on the necessary medicine.

My favorite Bible verse this month is Psalm 121:5, “The Lord is your keeper, the Lord is your shade at your right hand.” It has been excessively warm this past couple of weeks. We had heat index over 113 degrees, feels like an oven out there.

Do this and remember me

Published on June 30, 2026July 2, 2026 by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

The words of Jesus on the night before his crucifixion are a command that should make us think about what it means to “do” things. Realizing that there is always a motive behind any “doing” is quite humbling. Why do we do what we do? Is it merely self preservation or is it self sacrifice? Jesus showed the way to love, the truth, and what living is all about. We do so much that seems meaningless but is it in remembrance of Jesus? Is it communion more that just the breaking of bread and the drinking of wine?

Thinking about my dad this past month makes me wonder how much of what I do is remembering him? We planted a tree on May 21 in honor of our daughter and son in laws tenth anniversary. Our 35th in just ten days later went a little uneventful. No major memory making there, as the next day became more upheaval that we expected. My mother had a major life event and landed in the hospital for eleven days.

Then Father’s day came along. It was hard for me to focus on my hubby’s dad’s memory when the day marked the year to date after my dad’s passing. Yet there were lots of thoughts about both of them. And just a few days later, I found a new thought process going through my head.

We have so many broken pieces in our lives that need to be picked up. There are the broken relationships that mark how life was lived with or without people. There are the broken hearts and broken bodies that never really seem to heal no matter how much time passes. There are the broken homes and broken houses and broken people that mess up churches and break up families of all sorts. So many broken memories that we have to constantly bring to the master physician. Face it we live in a broken world.

There is a Bible verse that runs through my head often. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those with a contrite spirit.” (Psalm 34:18). I get the brokenhearted thing as I have many a time felt that bleeding emotional feeling. But what is contrite, what kind of spirit is one with contrition?

Contrite is defined as feeling deeply remorseful and understanding one’s wrongful behavior. It can also be the feeling proceeding repentance. A contrite spirit is one who knows her own sinful motives behind an action and chooses to have a changed of heart. While a broken heart is often caused by another a contrite spirit is evidenced by a “change of heart” when one realizes the wrongs done to another.

Thinking about my husband’s mom and the cookies that she made by the thousands the other day was humbling. First of all our recipe nearly failed because the margarine was not “baking margarine.” It had too much water content. We added and added and added more dry ingredients to get the right consistency. Then of course was the fact that my husband felt like he had murdered the cookies and finally had to walk away for his grumpy attitude. So I tried to finish the job and had to put the dough the fridge to stiffen up because of our 67% humidity. As many times as mom made cookies I don’t remeber that she every was driven to anger over the process. Bother but we were not making cookies in remembrance of her love of baking, now, were we?

Thinking about hubby’s dad and remembering him was easy the other day as his two sons worked together on a project. So muchof what dad did was marked by draining energy over the years and his “good enough” thought process. I find myself deciding the longevity of a project and deciding how much energy I should put into it and than stating that should be “good enough.” It is all based on what really matters to me. Yet I find that motive driving me to be self preserving rather that self sacrificing.

However, I began thinking out Jesus and His life and sacrifice on the cross in the “good enough” terms. Wow, that was mind boggling. Really now, in all of my thoughts about how brokenness has entered my life, I must constantly be reminded that Jesus is Good Enough for ALL of the brokenness. And in all of the times when I have been broken in my motives towards others, Jesus is good enough to give me a change of heart and help me love the way that He would. Yes, Jesus in all of my life experience has always been the “Good Enough” answer for everything.

My father in law loved to make toys and one of the toys I took that he made was a kaleidoscope. . So this month as I thought bout the project I wanted to crochet all of the pieces came together for this journal entry. One of my friends gave me a large sack full of leftover yarn. I thought about all the broken pieces in the little toy. First the pieces of mirror placed in a triangle, then the confetti or colored glass that turns out the designs. Life is like a kaleidoscope, sometimes all those broken pieces put together make a really fun design. It might not seem that way at the time. So all the leftover broken pieces of yarn when put together in the right order can make a real;y fun lapghan-afghan.

So while putting together this leftover yarn into a pretty pattern, I thought about all the broken happenings in our lives this moment. Broken relationships, broken bodies, broken churches, broken work environments, broken career paths, broken families, broken houses, broken car water pumps, broken tooth, and the list goes on. Yet what we do with all of this brokenness matters. Our reaction to one another, to the pieces we have to pick up and the relationships that we put back together matters. We can sweep up the glass and throw it away, or pick up bits and pieces and make a kaleidoscope full of beauty and blessing.

Life gives us a whole lot of little pieces sometimes and what we do with it matters. Do we run away from the challenge to become a better person, learning how to communicate love and care to the broken spirits around us? Or do we go around breaking others hearts by our incapacity to learn new ways of doing things?

Broken hearts belong to God. Hearts that are willing to change are so because God’s Spirit has softened them. Oh, that I would look at my broken heart moments as the softening of the Holy Spirit to become more like Christ.