Author: yvonneannette

Yvonne is a wife, mother, grandma, and avid crochet artist. Her aptitude for gardening has much to be desired due to her failing eyesight. As a genetic carrier of R.P. She strives to thrive in areas of expertise and amateur abilitiy. As a retired home school mother of two beautiful daughters, she proudly claims both son-in-laws as heroes of virtue and romance. She and her husband of twenty eighty years live on an acreage with their fat little pony, a half dozen cats, and her unserviceable doodle Honey.

Good and faithful

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“When there are no words only hugs will do.”

Our family has said goodbye to the patriarch. A little over a month ago an accident happened that set up a series of events that led to the loss of my husband’s dear father. The one statement that was repeated most frequently by all in attendance of our losss was that “he was the most wonderful man that I ever did know.” This was often in comparison to a grandfather, or other such memorable figure in the speaker’s life. Such a great cloud of witnesses one never knows within the confines of this life. It is only in death that the knowledge of true character is revealed.

Our loss is heart wrenching, but our hope is ever present. We all cannot imagine facing such heart break without the hope of eternal life. It is that very faith that lifts us up out of the tears of grief into the Savior’s blessed words, “Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”’

Praying Jesus over life and death is something not necessarily new to me. However, being so close to the eternal gates with a loved one made me more aware than ever of the spiritual battle for the souls of mankind. I was so blessed to pray with my father-in-law twice during the last few days of his life. Asking Jesus to be present during the painful moments of stepping from this life to the next was a priviledge that I do not take lightly.

Holding what is dear until we are asked to let go is not easy. Yet during this hard transition it is Jesus whom we hold most dear. Our Lord is the truth that carries us through the difficulty of letting go of the present age. Praise God that He is truly the author and finisher of our lives.

Breathing eternal hope in thermos of our deepest pain is the true test of our faith. It is during this deep suffering that we identify with Christ who suffered for our sakes. Once I heard the Lord’s name “Yahweh” described as a breathing word. Yah is spoken on the intake of breath, and Weh is whespered as the breath is expelled. This is such a powerful expression of the Giver and Taker of life. The one who breathed the breath of life into the first created human being is the one who gives each person the first breath of air when born. And the Alpha dn the Omega, the beginning and the end, is also the One whose name we are to whisper in our final death.

Asking for what can’t be given is still okay to ask. “Ask and you shall recieve” does not always mean that we are given exactly what we have asked for. Perhaps “No” s the perfect answer for our humble need. I still find it hard to comprehend the painful examples of so many millions of children not receiving what they needed in life. Dieing of hunger, thirst or extreme abuse at the mercy of life’s atrocious suffering. I cannot reconcile this torture in my mind. yet I must accept that asking for what cannot be given is still okay to ask.

Each one’s loss is worthy of grief. Whether that loss is a wife with memory loss, a child with cancer, untimely deafness, or an auto immune illness that redirects our life. Grief comes in many different waves of the many different oceans of experience. Each person grieves individually. No one mourns loss the same way. Identifying with another’s pain can be difficult. One’s loss of spouse at early age is different than the death of a spouse of longevity. Blindness at age two is different than blindness at age 72. Deafness at birth is different that deafness at age 50. Yet each one’s grief is still valid and needs the comfort of shared loss.

Psalm 61:5 says “For You, O God, have given me the heritage of those who fear Your name.” Indeed the heritage of one who fears the Lord is the best inheritance one could ever ask for. Gratefulness is overwhelming the grief. There is no thought for the morrow like that of hoping one’s children’s children serve Christ Jesus as Lord. This prayer is worth knocking upon the door of the Great God of the ages to open His door of eternal blessings.

Hard to be happy but easy to be glad. Yes, I said that right. It is hard to be happy that someone get’s to go to heaven before us. Yet we must wait our turn. For the Almighty calls who He chooses. So it is easy to be glad in Jesus knowing that our turn will one day come for eternity’s gates to be opened and we too will be ushered into glory with overwhelming welcome and joy.

Listening skills are important when sitting with the grief stricken. “But I keep thinking of things to tell him.” It seems there is never enough. Quiet time has new meaning. In the house of mourning there may still be laughter yet. When mom says that she just wants to be with dad, I responded with “I won’t take it personally.” My company was not disdained or undesired, it just was an expressed preference. Yes, mom, I won’t take it personally that Jesus is a more desirable presence. I just hope that in some small wayI can be the presence of His Holiness during this time of grieving.

The outt pouring of love towards our dear ones during this mourning period is sometimes overwhelming. To hear from an old Sunday School student from nearly forty years ago about how much dad shaped his life walk with Jesus is almost unbelievable. Yet this is what it means to be good and faithful all of one’s life. My cup runners over. That is the best way to describe the comfort that is being sent forth, even as the empty chair sits empty. Even as the heart break fills so very empty, The Holy Spirit indeed is comforting in every prayer sent Heavenward for this dear family of mine as we count the blessings for knowing this good and faithful servant.

Showering blessings

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Everyone here knows that when we love life, we celebrate life. Even while we struggle with the going of one life we still want to celebrate the coming of this little one. God speaks in His word that He knows our comings and our goings, our rising up and sitting down and is acquainted with all of our joys and sorrows. So today we want to focus on Little Baby B and celebrate this little one who is obviously from the decorations going to develop a love for farming that he or she has inherited from Great Grand Papa Jay.

We know that there are never any coincidences in life. God knows what He is doing even when we don’t understand.

Psalm 139:13-17 “ For you formed my inward parts: you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfullyand wonderfully made. Wonderful are your words: my soul knows it very well.My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, Intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them , the days that were formed for me, when as yet therewere none of them. How precious to me are yourthoughts, O god? How vast is the sum of them!”

There is an old saying that things in secret should be kept secret until they aren’t a secret anymore. This goes back to a generation or two ago. Today we get pictures of babies by ultrasound and detect all the intricacies of the little beating heart. It is rather special that Sadie and Chet have chosen to let the gender of Baby B be a secret or a special surprise. In this day of incredible knowledge availabe at the click of a button, having a surprise of Boy or Girl is to be commended.

Babies are knit together by God’s special design. Combining the family genetics of Jensen-Bottorff is going to be so fun to see who Baby looks like and what character traits there will be. From whose chin, to whose toes, to whose nose there will be lots of discussion and giggles and joy over this little one.

We want to spend this time in Blessing Sadie with our gifts and our love and our prayers. While we do this I just want to remind everyone that we are all Children of the Heavenly Father. And the verse above tells us that His thoughts towards us are so precious and so vast in sum they cannot be counted. While you are counting baby’s gifts, and baby’s toes and counting all of these blessings, know that in reality the sum total of His love to us is Jesus.

I have one little embarrassing story about Sadie to tell. Once as a little girl she came over to our sheep barn during lambing time. Unfortunately the moment of a lambs birth is quite messy and I’ll let everyone use their own imagination. Sadie is know to have marched directly out of the barn and say to her Grandma “That’s disgusting!”

We all know that it did not scar Sadie in the least, as she spend her entire growing up years at 4-H and in the piglet barn with her dad. Thank goodness for Sadie, she does not find herself in the time of Mary mother of Jesus using a manger for her little child’s crib!

I know however that facing childbirth and the daunting task of raising a child to adulthood can be fearful. So I will share with you the same verse that I shared with Papa Jay just days before his heavenly home going. Hebrews 12:3 “lest you become weary, think about Jesus.”

We are so excited for Baby B and the blessing that he or she will be in this family and we wish you all the best as you prepare the world of your home and lives to welcome this new life!

In The Dinette

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Some people live for food. No really, they think about the next meal before they are even done with the one they are eating. Meals, food and delicatessens are what drives them from hour to hour. My dad used to say of a particular relative, “They travel on the stomachs: Visiting all kinds of national monuments and beautiful places it is some simple pizza joint that they remember most and talk about with excitement.

Some people eat just to stay alive. I am in that category. I could work for hours in the greenhouse and totally forget meals and such. I could crochet for hours if I did not drink so much that I am driven to the bathroom. I don’t enjoy watching telvesion shows or videos about cooking. On the other hand it was my three year old daughter that grumbled about me rushing her meal and said, “Can’t I savor my food?”

Mealtime for me has always been about the conversation and togetherness. Even as a child I was always the last one at the table. I told everyone with such a captive audience, I thought every dinner was a theatre. Mealtime was entertainment 101 for me. What jokes and witty comments would incite laughter and or anger? I learned that my siblings had buttons that could be pushed and I learned what would and would not be tolerated by my parents.

What was it like to have a formal dining room and an appendix dinette? The kitchen was my mother’s domain. My dad was only in their on rare occasions. The dinette was the daily use eating zone. Nothing like the kitchens of today that have “homework” stations for the kids while mom or dad cooks the meal. And the formal dining room was used only for company. This was where I sat and did homework once in awhile, otherwise homework was done in my own space of my bedroom with it’s little desk and chair.

I often think of the kitchen and dinette as after thoughts in old houses. Of course back in the day of wood cook stoves, the heat made it important to keep the heat out of the rest of the house during summer. We had moved from a house with an addition of a large kitchen where the table was part of the room. The change was a poor one for our family. I think the “appendix” in the new house made it part of the reason my parents marriage collapsed.

Of course, it does not help that I had left for college and the communication between my mom and dad was already pretty bad. Then after my spring illness of appendicitis, that’s when things got really bad. I returned home to see that my mom was barely keeping up with this abandonment. And my dad was unwilling to make any changes.

My appendix had been surgically removed. The room that we had grown up eating it was now just a vague dry hopeless place where my mother and the three children left no longer ate with my dad. His silence on weekends, mealtimes and presence in the home was only occasionally interupted by bouts of angry outbursts. I tried to stand up for the others. But it was too late for intervention. The surgical procedure of the “heart” of the home had already been done by his constant belittling and badgering. Like a battering ram on the love that my mother was trying to give, the destruction was complete.

Friends were few and far between. What else was there to do? I felt my mother needed an ultimatum. Now that thirty some years have passed since the divorce of my parents. It’s clear that my mother was the glue and the love that drew us all together. My father’s eightieth birthday managed to gather some of us around him for a party. But his continued unbelief and faithless thought process towards our mother have pushed most of us away.

My dad’s 85th birthday was spent in unremarkable normalcy. On the other hand I watch the happenings of my in-laws through the years and the family grows and also finds itself distanced by all the extended happenings. Yet when dad needed a pep rally in the nursing home to keep him out of the “failure to thrive” annals, we all came together to make an attempt at cheerfulness.

All these things are going on simultaneously. Life falls apart, life moves on and little lives are being brought forth into the new world. Lives struggle with health. Lives learn new things. Lives march into the next unknown. And we still get disappointed when our expectations are not met by others. We still disappoint ourselves when we react inappropriately. We still are unable to change another person’s will. Whether we love and live in hopefulness does matter, doesn’t it?

This past weekend the roller coaster of emotions brought me back to the song above that I found a week or two ago. The old version is rather unknown. And this composition also is not highly memorable. Yet all of life’s emotions, feelings, wishes, wants and needs are nothing apart from being “In Jesus.”

I finished my book from Mother Theresa, but the wisdom it contained will continue to speak Jesus into my life and others. I had the chance to speak to my father in law in a moment of lucidity one evening. I told him about the book I was reading and how “thinking about the pain and suffering of Jesus when we have pain and suffering” can help us in our pain. It is because Jesus suffered for us, that we can endure. I don’t know how much of it helped. He told me he was “not worried about tomorrow.” So maybe it did help some.

All of us need the blessed assurance that if we confess Jesus over our pain, over our trials, over our emotions, over our family then God will intervene in the way that He chooses. We have to be okay with that.

So life continues on and IN JESUS I will try not to take things into my own hands. Only God knows what the appendix’s purpose really is. We have lost past family members in the early 1900’s from an appendix rupture. My brother in law has suffered from years from the effects of the the rupture toxicity. My appendix was removed and left me with ITP for over a decade and then another surgery, splenectomy.

There are organs in the body that can be lived without. And some that once damaged will lead to death. When a family looses it’s dinette of bustling conversations and playful bantering over the mealtime… well, I see over the years the family just drifts away from each other and soon learns to live without the spleen, without the appendix, without the arm that once fed it and kept it so vital. New families emerge and must learn not to make the same mistakes.

Living a life IN JESUS is more important now than ever before.

Age Old Sayings

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Finding much comfort in the old hymns and old sayings as we consider the comfort of our dear loved ones in the hospital this week. The wisdom of the aged is sometimes questionable. Why do they do such silly things and cause such neglect to their bodies needs? Once a pattern is set in the brain, it cannot be reversed. The hymn for today is “I’m A Pilgrim And I’m A Stranger.” Pretty sure that I have never heard this one before in my life. I also heard about a new singing artist that has taken over the workout music industry. Sometimes I wonder where have I been?

A couple of these old sayings are as follows: too much of any thing good or bad is simply too much, eat smaller portions and soon you won’t be eating enough to keep a bird alive, don’t worry about what most people think-most people are thinking about themselves, and keeping company with the wrong company can make anyone a rotten apple. Most of these sayings have some origin that most of us don’t know. The origin of the next old saying is a nursery rhyme might as well have come from the story of Micah or Habakuk, I’ll have to read up.

Remember the Pumpkin Shell nursery rhyme? There are times I wonder that the un-named princess of little Peter is me. Perhaps my honey dearest could not keep me without building a “shell” to keep me in. I imagine the creatures being little mice and how well they did eat that first while. What happened when the shell begins to rot? Oh, never mind. Maybe the critters are the little black squirrel who helped himself to the pumpkin on my daughter’s from deck last fall. What a mess he made!

“In the shade of the old oak tree…” The song tells the story of the oak cross beam that holds a church bell. How the tree was a comfort for soldiers long ago, and then witnessed the bloody battle. And finally succumbed to the lumberjack’s saw. On the southern edge of our driveway I planted a row of walnut trees. The trees have been kept trimmed regularly to allow a mower beneath them. The one third method of branching was done for quite some time to make the trunk nice and straight. The squirrels have been ever so busy this fall. I no longer have a squirrel hunter. We will.have to sweep up the mess and burn all of the casings as it is quite treacherous to walk down there.

One hundread and forty years ago our acreage was first homesteaded by relatives in the journey to the new land. The story of one’s ancient pilgrims is always a fascinating history lesson for willing ears. I did take the time to have my children interview their great grandmother on my dad’s side during their growing up years. She was the oldest living relative at the time. It is hard to comprehend that now our parents are such. It is time for some more interviews for sure.

A time of one century, two score and four years ago…our forefather settled this land and planted a cottonwood tree.Near to the sod house where the dishwater was poured out next to the little sapling. I can imagine every day as the dishes were done the pale was carried out and the little sapling was watered. Then ten years later another bare root was planted near to the second little building that later burned down. And in another ten years the more permanent building was built with it’s little attic sleeping loft. When one says living history, they do not look at these two old trees, do they?

About five years ago we went down to the creek bottom and dug up some fifty cottonwood saplings. I found out how hard it was to keep them alive. Only one tree survived. It is planted straight south of our house as the crow flies. I took buckets of water to it the first year. Then I put a plastic sleeve around the base to protect it. This year it has outgrown the sleeve and I took it off. The trunk has a slight bend were the wind tried to break it three years ago, but otherwise it looks healthy.

Dawn is slow this morning. A thunderstorm covers the grey sky. It threatens me with thunder and lightening. Yet never seems to release it’s tears to wash away the dusty surface. If only it could really rain. We did have some the other day and my goodness but the flowers looked happy. Even the grass was a little green for an hour or two.

I have not been down to Cocoa’s tree much this summer. The deer found it last fall, but the roots were healthy and new branches came out this summer. I put an Irish spring soap bar on a string around one limb. I think that saved it from any more deer threat. I have some bushes and another tree to plant in the area along with a contemplation rock that I really like. We have not placed any of these items. One of these days the heat won’t threaten to kill every green thing anymore and we can plant some more down there before winter.

Placing any tree or bush is takes a lot of thought these days. Getting water to the little struggling life is key. And sometimes I just get tired of carrying water to everything. We have tried auto waters two or three times and invariably the hose breaks or the joint or the connecter or something and we loose 10,000 gallons into the ground in a real hurry! I just don’t trust them anymore.

Psalm chapter one talks about the tree planted by springs of living water. “Blessed is the man who … delights in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night…He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers.“. In the passage it talks about walking, standing, and sitting NOT: with wicked counsel, sinners ways, or seated scoffers. Putting

this spiritual counsel into daily practice seams more relevant than ever. The two books that I have right now could not be in any more contrast. One is from a super model who wrote a book as if she had all of life’s lessons learned and now has just recently been divorced. The other is on the words of Mother Theresa. Honestly I think about the counsel that each one gives and find them to be in such opposite poles. Who would you listen to or take counsel from?

Streams of living water…. The words of saints and the word of God are just that to me. Each day when I struggle to bring my thoughts into captivity of Jesus Christ, I thank God that I have His Word in my life to give me healthy roots.

Well Wishes

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The night that I began writing this we were sending well wishes heavenward for a dear family member. The hopes that our elderly loved ones would get better seem to be dashed to pieces every day. One by one something happens and watching the elderly suffer is difficult. We know that suffering truly is part of living, but oh that we do not choose misery while the trials continue. I heard Mother Theresa say “suffering is inevitable, but misery is a choice.” Suffering is to be like Christ.

The mornings bring cooler temperatures these days. Searching for a sweater I fumble to get my shoes on and dor our morning walk. Our pets are down in numbers. Scooping food for two cats required a smaller container and reading the daily feeding requirement for our two orange coats. Charlie now usually has to greet me before snarfing his one and half can’s of kibble. Brr, I begin to shiver before the return to the porch.

The other night at 3 am I went out to the kitchen for y midnight snack and found that the I-dot was playing music for itself. Well, no one was out there. So it had to be for the enjoyment of self, right? Then I woke four hours later to the sounds of intense pounding upon the house door, or the deck floor outside, something woke me up. Turns out it was the cat jumping off of the porch swing.

This week my allergies are at the end of their wits. I am only upright if I have the strongest antihistamine available to my system. How am I to make it until first frost? I have so much to do outside yet. Gathering the geraniums and Hibiscus trees along with all of the canna lilies. So here goes my friendship with Benadryl.

Meanwhile, all the children in our lives are gathering birthday wishes and school mates to learn new things and grow old before our very eyes. Sometimes I wish we could grasp these memories a little tighter. They seem so slippery. One memory is quickly replaced by another and soon a little body that could not talk or walk is talking, sitting up, and feeding themselves.

The wishing well still needs a pole, and a rope, and a bucket, but it looks great this way, too!

Wishing well poems and fairy tales are not just for children. I could not find a good example for this thought process. But while combing the scriptures for the hopefulness, I found 2 Peter 3:9 “The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promises as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” It made me so very pleased to know that God has wishes also. And what wishes have I that could ever be better than this?

While coating the well with it’s cabot oil, the rest of the deck furniture is all topped with another coat of water repellant also. I nearly used up the whole can. I decided it was time to spend my reading time with some better quality material. From “The Hobit” to “Redwal” to G.A. Henty time seemed to be passing with a bit of the RIP Van Wrinkle-ness of sleeping through the days while living in the other world of books. Mentally sometimes it’s okay to run away, but I needed a litle mental boost. So today I looked up some Mother Theresa books and chose “In Her Own Words” as my first listening option.

I think it’s because I have a devotional to attempt for a baby shower and one of the families “saintly” persons is now finely going to have a baby after eight years into marriage. Many thoughts have been on my mind about her famous spiritual leadership and. Missing the way that my mother used to be for me (stroke affected her mind and behavior) has made me often think of Mother Theresa. I think I wrote a paper on her when I was in high school I remember my classmates teasing me a lot about being a goody two shoes Theresa. Oh, well. I believe she deserves to be called a saint.

This is the mosaic crochet blanket poncho that I made out of some wool that my mother purchased a few years ago. It was originally a shawl and blanket. I took all the yarn out as I made the new item. It is much prettier now.

I am so happy my reading time is occupied fingers time. I really can’t imagine living without crochet in my life. This is probably one of the prettiest items that I have made it quite awhile. And the mosaic is a pattern that I could repeat over and over. I just never get tired of all the color combinations one can do with a particular pattern.

And now we “fall on our knees” as the whole of the family struggles with more sad news. Today, I sit in silence much. The sky began to thunder and even the clouds had a little cry…. but it seems to be a dry rain. We are getting numbed by the call for another prayer request. Why do we go into shock during stress filled moments?

Once again I turn to my new book to find some comfort in the words of a saint. The Bible reminds me to turn to the Psalms, to sing hymns of praise even during the midst of the battle. And we are in a battle for the souls of our friends and relatives. We are in a battle to choose to be like Christ rather than murmur of our misery. We are in a battle to love because God first so loved us.

Insight through Eyesight loss

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Insight rather than outsight is my lot in life. I am one of the lucky ones who has learned to walk into a room blinded by the backdrop of a bright window and wonder what in the world I might run into first. While others love social engagements and “parties” of all sorts, I’d rather be a wall flower. And most times that is how I feel. So I do not heed the “come in, come in” when my body is riddled with the bullets of anxiety and I want to back up. Making sure that I do not run into anything or upset the apple cart is my first priority. It’s hard not to say, “Don’t push me over a cliff, go first and I’ll follow.”

The other morning I let my anger get the best of me. One of the most difficult things about tunnel vision is missing out of seeing something. Often it is the obvious street pole on the edge of the sidewalk. But sometimes it is less obvious, like the water glass on the edge or even middle of the counter. With the narrowing of the viewing hole, many things just go into oblivion. Thus, when the dog decided to haul if with my latest new crochet work, the string follows it. I found the work, but the hook was “no where” for me to be seen. My anger was just boiling.

I had played with Kona. I had cleaned house and found toys and threw balls for him to fetch. I had taken care of all of his needs. It was time to move some laundry. My return to the living room found the work across the living room floor. But no hook could be found. I have even changed the hooks that I am using to the original boye metal hooks that my Grandma gave me. No foam or plastic nylabone for the dog chew option.

How can the past stick like glue so well? Everyone else is loving the fall decor. Bringing out all of the leafage and pumpkins. There was a little saying when I was a kid. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” that is so not true. Words ring in your ears for decades. When I was fourteen and diagnosed with RP, the doctor wanted to protect my eyes, by putting me in orange colored lenses. He felt that keeping the UV rays out of my eyes was so important. I had never worn sunglasses. People just did not do that back then. Halloween eyes, pumpkin face and other such bully talk became the normal poke fun and Yvonne. I do not remember anyone ever asking me about why I was wearing the orange lens now.

Sticks and stones, right.

Both of these projects survived Kona stealing the hook and dragging the partial out into the living room floor. On the left the ombre and yellow shawl. On the right the brown wool remake from a project my mother returned to me when she moved out of her house.

I learned that hurling words was just as harsh as hurling stones. The rock that found my eyebrow when I was a toddler left a visible scare. The words that my school mates used stuck like sticks in the eye that would never be removed. Words do hurt.

There are people who push you over the edge into the black abiss. I remember in my early years of marriage how my husbands family liked to go up to a local steak house to eat. The building had two doors to enter through before getting into the dining hall. It never failed that others would try to hold the door and try to push me into the dark room. I can still “feel” the panic rise up in me when I think of this. I learned that some people do not know how to lead. It is just not in them. While serving can be a natural tendency for them, leading does not come naturally. Some are often better at pushing than leading. I leaned that you can never “push” a blind person.

So there are genetic tendencies in all families. Genetic blessings and curses. There is the genes for diabetes, the genes for cancer, the genes for arthritis, the genes for blindness. And we could go further into the genes for higher cholesterol and strokes or dementia. When we looka t our relatives we can pretty much see ourselves in the mirror on the wall. The future is right in front of us, so to speak.

This past week at my little kiddos table, their sweet moma began the Bible lesson for the morning with a big word. “Immutability” she explained is the character of God and His never changing personhood.. God does not change. He is always the same. The little two year old dropped her head in her hands and said “I don’t like that big word. It’s scary!” Of course my thoughts went to the smiling Heavenly Father trying to help this little mind grasp such a large concept. I considered my ability to maintain emotional calm in my own life as the table moment suddenly turned chaotic.

God never changes. He is always love. I heard a sermon the other day about the fact that God is not anger. He may respond in anger, but it is always His Holy response to sin. God is not the emotional uncontrolled feeling. He is just, loving, merciful and compassionate. His is not wrath. We look at love as an emotional reaction to a moment or a way of being treated. Love is a choice, and action, a decision one must make when an otherwise inappropriate response could be made. God is love even when he responds to evil and sin, and that is what paves the way for forgiveness.

Charlie is finally “coming” to me after a year or so of independent guard dog work. He highness loves cookies. Kona is still a W.i.p. = work in progress.

After five days of stay-cation I’m finally wrapping up this thought process. There is probably a lot more that could be said. But for now it fascinates me how people slowly rot. There is a lot of Bible verses about that. Understanding our worlds’s laws of composting material is happening right within out very being is not pleasant. I don’t want to think about the day when I can no longer see anything at all. But having the insight to realize we look at our own future when we look at our aging parents is important for how we choose to take care of ourselves at those we love.

When life is constantly changing and shifting beneath my feet I am glad to know that God never changes. James 1:17 is the the Bible verse for this weeks’s focus writing. “Every good and perfect gift is from above, down from the Father of lights, with whom these is no change like shifting shadows.” I’m not sure which version my daughter is using to teach her children that verse, but I do like the shifting shadows part. The sun that casts a shadow and makes us feel long or short by the gravity of the day, the sun does not seem to change. The shadow does though. And God does not change. He still loves us the same whether gravity has little affect on our body or much like in old age.

Repurpose Myself

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The other day the thought came to me that while loosing my eyesight, I am gaining insight that is invaluable. It made me begin a list of things that I would never have learned without this grief in my life. So while loss is heartbreaking, it is also heart-making! Like the people that lost vision during the battle of the bulge or at Iwo Jima, the lessons learned because of eyesight loss cannot be attained any other way. This is a blog for another time. But the list has begun.

Hymn study today is on CCWilliams “have You any room for Jesus.” And I am wondering how many rooms do I have some image of my Christ Jesus trying to remind me that He is ever present in my life? Do I have a reminder of the Shepherd, the Savior, the Lord’s cross to keep me on the narrow path. The oddest cross that exists in my home is one that my niece made for me out of horse shoes. Yep, me, who has not a stitch of western horseman gear in my home has a horse shoe cross on the wall. It reminds e that we are to take whatever talent God gives us, and use it to glorify Him. Whether it’s welding, music, sewing, cooking or crochet, when we make things that remind others of Jesus, we have done well.

All through my life I have been fascinated by the use of “repurposed” materials. From the horse shoe of days gone by, to the torn sheet rag rugs of yesterday, these items are part of what makes me smile. But getting the rocks and dirt out of these glass jars that my mom had plants in was a little difficult. I ran them through the dishwasher to shine them up.

As soon as I find me, I’m going to repurpose myself.

I began working on another masaic project this week. I love how it is turning out. Now the question is does it become a blanket? Or just leave it as the original prayer shawl?

Mosaic Crochet shawl that took me less tan a week to work up. Hereis is a work in progress-WIP Wednesday!

My allergies drove me to the steroids again. My skin was itching so bad, and my glands so swollen that the ibuprofen and antihistamines were not enough anymore. Of course, now I’m going to have change my diet a little to avoid the acid reflux that comes with the pills. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. But maybe I won’t have scratch marks all over my skin anymore for the sleep-itching. Oops.

My little grand daughter was trying to teach Kona how to use the “paw-pad” on her little child’s laptop. It was so cute. And he was being a very attentive puppy, listening to her every word. And watching her do it all. A video would have been better, but I’m not quick enough to get it all captured. The picture was lovely and the moment sweet.

Kona learning the ins and outs of the paw pad use. And Kona as my recliner sit still buddy!

Yesterday it rained ALL day so I stayed in the house. Hopefully I can make it to the greenhouse today. The temperatures are on an upward swing for a few days. The day however was passed with some book listening and a a couple of of video interviews. My mother insisted that I listen to Tom Brokaw’s “The Greatest Generation.” I am fascinated by the fact that theirs was the life of the cold war era, the civil rights movement, Roe vx Wade, and Christianity leaving the public school. Perhaps the generation to study is the one’s that lead up to the hoards of servicemen and women who chose to go fight in Would Word II. It was the Great Depression of the thirties that made them chose to go fight and go get their very own first set of shoes, clothes and food that was not a hand-me-down. Something to think about.

The most interesting “Purpose” statement that I have heard lately came form an elderly woman of one hundred and three years. She said that we must understand that our life has purpose and that each thing that we do in life has purpose. The purpose for cleaning the bathroom for instance is so that we don’t get sick from the mold. We clean the room with a purpose in mind. And we find our purpose in doing things with purpose. Bothe the greater perspective of loving and honor and the smaller duties of cleanliness and helpfulness. Purpose is found in the large and the small things of life. And it is the BIG person who finds joy in doing SMALL things with purpose! That really sunk home for me.

The verse below is one for the month of August that I want to settle on some. I’m not very good and enjoying toiling for food or drink. It makes no sense to me to smoke macaroni and cheese for an hour and a half, when I could just eat it after a stove top cooking time of thirteen minutes. I’m too hungry to wait that long for my food. So instead, I managed to bake a zuchinni cake this week. That only took about an hour and half . But it was not a main meal that I was waiting for!

Ecclesiastes 8:15, “And I comand joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat and drink and be joyful, for this will go with him in his toil through the days of his life that god has given him under the sun.”

Finding joy is more about being joyful than about looking for some grand happenstance that makes us complete. We can be joyful even while cleaning toilets, or the shower, or winning an Olympic gold medal. Attitude is everything in living with purpose.

Here is the mosaic crochet shawl finished. I just love this pattern and it’s sizing and the contrast pattern and keeping my fingers occupied!

Not sure

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Hymn “Til the Storm Passes By…. Is the best humn for this season of our lives. Keep me safe in the Hallow of Thy Hand, O Lord. Just as we get one parent settled into senior living apartment, another parent calls in distress from the floor in the garage. How, Lord, are we to navigate this season of fall?

The song makes it seem so harmonious and peaceful, but the crashing thunder and the cloud of nerves and rain showers of tears are not pleasant at all. It’s hard to imagine that this hurricane force rain can produce any crop at all. Except perhaps maybe a catastrophic flood..

There is one word that I remember from childhood that through my little mind through an unknown loop. “Sure…”. Yep, I remember as a little girl loving tootsie roll candy so much. Whenever I was offered the candy it was so pleasant. Once when asked whether I wanted the candy, the comment was made, “Are you sure?” My poor little brain had never been asked such a thing before. Usually, my ‘yes’ was sufficient enough. Being asked this puzzling question was night to cruel. I just shrugged my shoulders in response. I did not know what SURE meant. My name was Yvonne. I was a little girl. I was with my daddy. I did not know SURE. This stumped me. From that day on the meaning of words became important to me. Of course, now I know. Yes, I am sure. I still want a tootsie roll candy please!

Last week while with my grand children, they were arguing over some trifle. I was near enough to hear a portion of the disagreement but not near enough to hear the beginning of the squabble. The six year old with a better grasp of language was asking the four year old about telling the truth. “Is that a lie?” No was the response. “Are you telling the truth?” A non committal shoulder shrug response. “Then you are telling a lie.” I am NOT!! Well, if you aren’t telling the truth then you are a liar.” I AM NOT! (You can see how it goes, a negative answer negates the correct response.). Well, sir, that’s the truth of the matter as I heard it. Poor four year old. The meaning of words is tough to learn.

When little kids argue, sometimes it is best to just let it all play out and see where there little minds are at. Of course that does not mean Oma will let them duke it out all of the time. But sometimes it’s good to see if the compromise will happen on its own. Often I hear a parent intervene while I am present. I wonder if they think I am just not being the adult here. Well, sometimes I am trying not to laugh at the expense of the possibly hurt child. Parents get involved quicker because of irritation and keeping peace in the presence of outsiders.

My children would go play with the Pastor’s children when they at about the six and four year old stage. One day while saying at the parsonage for an afternoon, the younger child and her age relative playmate got into an argument. The Pastor’s wife related the incident later to me. “Those aren’t letters, that’s just scribbles.” My daughter said to the playmate. His schooling as a boy was a little behind hers. And unfortunate for him, she was already reading and shaping her letters. “Are you calling me stupid?” Asked the youngster of her. His mother had to excuse herself to the bathroom to laugh abnout it.

Learning how to use the Entrelac Crochet Stitch is part of my “reading” time. I made a mobias shawl out of some repurposed yarn.

Finding balance during this working phase of “parent sitting” and grand kid sitting is hard. How do you spend time with all the right people? Who needs my attention the most at this point in life? And then there is the question of the needs of my own “sleeping” place. Right when you think the balance is being acheived, there is not an inch of TP in the house. Where did all the rolls go?

This past week we finally got the floating shelves up above the piano. After Painting a few years ago, we took the pictures all down and just never got anything put back up. Of course when I look up at the display, the first thing I notice, is that each shelf needs a plant. Only me would think a corner is incomplete without green! So I have another plant to find! I have an ivy or two outside right now that might work. As fall turns cool, they will be collected. Treated for bugs, the little plants will be just perfect for the top shelf.

One of the arrangements on the shelves over the piano. I will probably rearrange many times before I really like it and leave it alone between cleanings.

This week is significant in several ways. Just before school the rummage sale world has it’s last hurrah. Little girls are planing their last lemonade stands. Mothers are collecting bargains to outfit their kiddos. And fathers are busy gaining knowledge to propell their careers. And some children are planning how to keep parents in their home as long as possible. So many changes. Ramps, sinks, toilets, flooring, grab bars, and a flock of caregivers are being collected. I’m not sure fall will ever be the same again.

Right at the moment the clouds are threatening to loose their raindrops. I feel about the same. The damn holding back the tears is about to burst and a flood of new emotions will soon take over the once fertile plain. Here comes the darkness, the storm, the thunder… Lord HOLD ME FAST! I’m not sure I can stand up under the deluge.

Never a Dull Moment: Kona’s Journal

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We recently rekindled our friendship with a couple that we spent much time with over two decades ago. Their young one has just come home from a mission trip to Africa and got engaged. Empty Nest Syndrome is real for most mothers even if the child still lives at home going to community college! Funny how after two decades visiting picks up like it never left off! You can’t make “old” friends. They come so naturally.

Keeping the home fire burning is one of the oddest things that we say of the parent that is staying home. It comes from the homestead era. Yet today, we have no reason to stoke the stove to keep the coffee kettle warm or to keep the stew pot simmering for supper. Crockpot and instant-pot are the best wonders of the new kitchen today! Yet I can honestly say that this is what I do all the time. I keep the home “fire” burning in the most relevant way possible.

Picture on the left is the Hibiscus cherry blossom chocolate for our zone, but still in the planter for another year until I decide where to put it. Center is the gladiolas that needed a tomato cage for support. I missed the pretty moment for pictures. Right is the one lily that is blooming after all this watering the same plant is in four different places in the yard.

My home “fire” is a list of “honey-do’s” that is a mile long. Right now there are about five or six major projects that need to get done fairly soon. Then there is the long term hope to get done this fall list. Along with the perhaps maybe before winter list. My honey says the list aught to be in the fire so that he can rest when he is at home. Without something to do we might get bored with each other. Haha.

Stay at home mom often means a mom that has a mini-van and runs her children all over town to their many lessons and sports events. Well on Tuesday I took full advantage of that and asked my daughter to run the dog to his grooming session while she was about with the eldest child to dance camp. Yes, I know that is probably asking too much. So I called the groomer and asked if he could be during the noon run time so that she did not have to go twice. It worked out okay. And then my daughter says, “ I met the person who does the mobile pet groom truck at church a while ago.” Ahh. Yes less trips would be good.

Constant commotion would be a difficult thing for anyone to handle if you aren’t use to it. Like my mother some twenty years past any child being at home to all of us taking turns staying with her. It was the week that two little kids and a doggie were there that she decided it was time to just sell the house and move into the assisted living facility. Sometimes peace and quiet is good. Until it becomes miserable and you just wish some excitement would happen. And then it does, and it’s the fall or something that makes your parents require more aid than you all can give.

What does a mother stand for-most if her meals because the minute she sits down something happens. Right when the pots about to boil for the noodles, the child jumps off the back of the sofa and lands on the other hiding under the cushion. Ouch! and a whole lot of commotion happens quite quickly.

Peace and quiet in a house full of preschoolers means someone is doing something they should not be doing! Yep. There is never a dull moment in home where little ones are learning their way into child hood. Sharp cries, sharp edges, sharp corners, sharp pavement, sharp knocks of all sorts need attention right away..

Just the othewhile attending to one child with a cut lip, mama looked over to see the baby in the high chair was double fisting her cereal into her mouth. She doesn’t know how to use the spoon rightly so the carrot applesauce cereal was up and down both arms, all over the face and down the front. Fourth child is pretty sure “a child could starve around here” with all these distractions from my feeding time! She was quite happy the bowl had been left on the high chair tray. What about having children is NOT messy? Even sleeping at night is rare!

I finished my “Entrelac Stitch” Shrug. It is so comfy! I had to redo the arm hole because it was a little to large. But otherwise I am pleased.

The weather has turned hot, but nothing like the high desert or Arizona. The sticky humidity is the worst. The other day I could hardly breathe outside. So I have been doing my yard work early in the day. Staying inside most of the hot part of the day. The cooling towel was pulled out of the fridge for a little bit of greenhouse work Thursday. I am trying to be very consistent with my watering. There are still a few plants that need attention so that always has me happy to plant something.

Meanwhile the AC for the house quit the other day. It has been a few years since it concerned us. So the repair man was here Friday. We had to run the air really cold just to keep the fan motor running. Afterwards I could finally turn the temperature up to a more manageable coolness. The temperature shock is too much for me. Finished the Bridge garden landscape. Only thing left is to trim off the cardboard pieces and tuck them around the plants for weed barrier. Oh, and Kona is sporting some new harness and leashes. Happy One Year Old little buddy! Kind of missed the actual birth date, but he looks good in orange and blue!

On the left, the Bridge garden in need of the trim on the cardboard yet, but looking good. And Kona sporting his new vest and leash on the right.

It’s time to move on to the next project. Not sure what exactly that is, however today we cleaned up the Butterfly garden. Now I am recovering from the weed “burn” on my arms and inside for a rest. We spend the day at our local county fair yesterday. Grand kids and all got to enjoy some bad fair food and the 4-H displays. That’s about all the news for now. We are watching the Olympics some. And I found the perfect verse in Ecclesiastes for the occasion.

Ecclesiastes 7: 8, “Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” But might I add that without beginning there is no finish. And I would agree that the humble are far more enjoyable to watch than the proud.