On the outside (Annyta & Emma)

Looking around the butterfly patch the other day, I found this little flower it it’s escape mode. The seeds are exceptionally viable when there has been a little more moisture. And apparently the little bits of rain and the extra water sessions aided in it’s growth. This made me think of the the year of miscarriages three and four.

On the outside, I was very occupied by writing music, Bible school curricula and home schooling my two little preschool girls. My ITP was sinking to a new low and the doctors that I saw at the time told me that this was normal, and that some people just live with the low numbers for life. While I did not think was acceptable, several rounds of six weeks of steroids would only last so long. My body was in fight mode and my immune system was taxed to the “nth.” Of course during all that season of busy, I also suffered from migraines.

Debilitating migraines. Unfortunately the doctors thought that Zoloft would be the answer. That was one of the worst three months of my life. The head aches knocked me out for half the month, and the zoloft knocked me out the next month for half the month. And the third month a 38 day cycle ended up in horrible cramps like a miscarriage. What more was to happen?

The music I heard in my mind was constant during that time. God the Father was putting His creative tunes into my heart and soul. I almost could not keep up with the whole flow of events. I began to put together my CD “Are You Ready?” During that time of blessed presence, I knew that God was carrying me every step of the way inspite of all the challenges.

Multiplying Gerber daisies in my greenhouse today made me think of the days that I hoped to have another Gerber like baby. My first daughter had such a doll-ful expression I though she should have been the new picture on the little jars. Surely, God did not mean for me to have only two little “sugars and spice.” Yet, now looking back I wish I would have soaked up those years with my girls a little bit more. The challenging time for me of their early years is such a blur.

Annyta and Emma were the dolls that I found next. Though Emma is one who falls asleep while reading, Annyta is a constant mama’s girl. My imagination is strong enough to give them personalities and voices. But that is all I will ever have- a strong imagination.

The Geranium nursery this summer in the tire made me think of the years as a child I had a sand box in a tire. This was my early elementary years. Now i sill love to play in the “dirt.” but growing geraniums is my new love. I think some day people will call me “that crazy geranium lady!” That’s okay, it’s better than being crazy because I had secondary infertility.

Canning tomatoes thus fall has been far and few between batches. The drought really hit the garden hard. No beans. The zucchini’s took on worms and died. The onions were only twice as big as when they went into the ground. The only happy stuff is the cucumbers and the beets. And I am not much of a fan of either. I know that God’s thoughts are not my thoughts. Living through a barren season of “infertility” is not easy. On the outside it looked like my life was productive and happy. But on the inside I was crying for the hope of more children that I would not have. I found only a couple of other women during that season that I could visit about this. That part is hard also. So many just want to push it all aside and say “be grateful what you have.” Finding contentment took some time.

One more year of this ITP thing and two more possible miscarriages were yet to come. If only I knew then what I know now…

“Now godliness with contentment is great gain…” (I Timothy 6:6). This verse would echo through my mind so much. After this season, we left our house in the country for town dwelling. That did not last very long. The inability to see the seasons and the crops in the field brought on a whole set of emotions that I did not know existed. I was a “farm” girl stuck in town. We also had a dig Lady that simply was not happy as a city dweller. She had so much energy. So… we made a decision that would alter the course of life dramatically…

And from now on…

Today the truck traffic on the road is constant. It makes me feel as though I live next to the interstate. They must be topping a local county road with tar and rock. A week ago on our motorcycle outing we found one of the recent toppings and had to take a different route home. The rock is just to slippery. I thought they had changed tactics recently and put rock then tar. But apperentyly one county does it the old way.

Fall is headed our way. The vegetable garden is a disaster. With the drought and the bugs, there is simply not much to harvest. Living in the country with the the insect population sometimes makes us want to just give up. Many of our country cousins have done just that. This year it is grasshoppers and drought ONE and garden ZERO. We have tried to look at the bright sight. But even the flowers are fighting for existence.

My allergies are later on arrival this year. Thank goodness. The headaches and asthma are minimal compared to past years. More vegetables and less of my actual irritants has helped. (Found out that allergy to potato, barley, and almond makes for a limited diet.). I have only had one scary reaction this month. I count that as success. Honey has not had to be on the alert near as much. She’s probably getting out of practice. Might have to stage a training session.

This week we celebrated a special 90th birthday. It was great to see everyone come out and give well wishes. There is also a old neighbor’s funeral this week. Much of the fond memories that we cling to is all of the generous personalities of others. I am buoyed by the show of neighborly giving that I see among these two lives. From the youthful days of each woman’s servitude to the elderly days of others coming alongside to take up the reins. Watching the blessings return is so special.

With the end of one month and the start of another, school is under way around the region. August either rolls into September or blows into fall. And from now on there are a number of significant birthdays to celebrate. Both of our parent sets have fall birthdays. I feel like the odd ball out in that region. (Mine is in spring.). Along with the fall birthdays, however another set of memories come flooding back

Harvest and the end of the growing season has filled the last twenty years with many blessings. Previous to that the second miscarriage loss would flood my mind about this time of year. It happened in our country house in Iowa. I have very clear visions of the day. I was standing in the kitchen when I heard the audible voice of a little girl call out “Mama…”. I replied “what is it honey?” Before even trying to look and see if it was one of my daughters standing there. When the voice replied, “I came to get my little brother.” I felt the wind get knocked out of me as a stomach cramp like no other socked me in the middle. I turned around and slid to the floor crying as I knew exactly what was about to happen. The vision that came to my spirit next while my hands buried my face in my knees was of a little girl skipping through the prairie grass and flowers holding on to the nad of her little tow headed brother. The tears and the pain were so real.

Unfortunately that was a Friday and even by Sunday the clot had not passed. I was having labor pains this time and the tears just would not stop. Sunday the family was supposed to have a birthday party for grandfather and I ended up staying home. Finally after the late afternoon things were looking better. This time however the miscarriage had hid me so hard. We knew this time we would need to wait at least 6-9 months before another attempt.

Every one looks at the hope of spring differently. For me back then it was possibility of perhaps having a third child. Both my husband and I are third children. So we have a special fondness for any child who is either an “oops” third or a “planned” third. I never in my growing up years knew a family with only two kids. That seemed so empty to me.

Praise my two daughters filled our house to the full with their love for music that followed those early parenting years. The “fullness” of those years was such a privilege. I never wanted to complain about my girls to other people. (However, some people took my positive look at my girls as a -negative- and thought that I was being boastful. It was hard for me to hear the awful things people said about their greatest blessings.)

So there, that’s the story of the second little dreamer in my library. Little Dillan plum tuckered out on the rocking horse. Now that I have grand children who laugh and giggle with each other, it’s not hard for me to imagine little Nora and little Dillan sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to his stories and giggling as He scoops them up and kisses them rubbing his whiskery chin on their little necks.

Thus far

Struggle bus rather than sleeping is one of my common life challenges. So the other night when my brain took off on it’s highway robbery, I found myself thinking about all these things once again. Setting up stones…. Our acreage is full of really large rocks. Many of them were picked up from the fields around and placed in the “rock pile.” Once years ago, someone lined the driveway with the rocks to keep drivers off of the lawn. My father-in-law still hates to see the rocks even in landscaping. My preference is to put them into the landscape and garden areas, rather than a pile that grows weeds and trees.

Not many people know what an Ebenezer stone is. Or even have ever heard of such a thing. Milestones are more commonly recognized, like growing and walking, driving, graduations, etc. Middle of the night statue building and laying stone walls while sleeping? Never.

My favorite Bible verse is from I Samuel 7:12, “Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen, and called its name [a]Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” What makes this verse a Milestone Marker for me? The idea that one thing is ending and another beginning has always intrigued me. Marking transitions in life, whether they be new jobs, careers, or life changes is important. But most important is recognizing how you got there and how you will accomplish the next. “Thus far the Lord has helped us!”

New phones are never easy for the visually challenged. But for me, I simply put the new one down and it takes weeks rather than days to learn everything. We get use to doing things a certain way, and when that way “expires” life moves on in a different manner. Sometimes rather slowly.

Brain fog that follows a sleepless night is probably the worst The ability to function well and do anything with precision is hard. So I spend the majority of the time crocheting some pattern that is very repetitive. The past two weeks I finally finished my virus stitch shawl that I started two years ago. It is quite beautiful. And yes, it makes me look like I was born in the wrong century. I don’t care. I love making and wearing shawls

This little area of the yard is passed by daily. It is very strongly and “Ebenezer” for me. “The bridge that once was…. “. Has such a story. The wood was once a fort over the sandbox, then the fort in the trees, and now the bridge on it’s own island (haha). The wheel was found in the lilac bushes. The only wagon wheel we found on the place so far. The basket that came from my sister’s driver’s mother’s attic. The stones that were brought in years earlier from the field. Each piece has it’s own history. Then there is the tree stump planter we just made from one of the sixty plus year old trees in the grove that are falling one by one. This year being three years into drought, many of the trees are simply hallow and tired of standing up.

“Thus far…”. Birthday celebrations are in the works for both of our moms this year. My mother at eighty and his mom at ninety. Celebrating life is so important. “The Lord has helped us”. We can see the elderly living this even more so than ourselves. For them, it is sometimes hourly that the Lord helps them. Each day holds it’s own Ebenezer as they march from sunrise to sunset. Waking each morning requires a call to the Lord for help just to rise out of the sleeping chamber. Of course it is because of the tale of Christmas and Ebenezer Scrooge that many of us think of old as grouchy. But sometimes I make a mental list of all the challenges our mothers face each day just to remind myself that my milestones are few.

Last night I survived an allergic reaction without an EpiPen. And we made a symptom checker that told us “NEXT TIME” these things occur, it is time for the epinephrine. . It was rather scary, and though I new something was not right, it did not occur to me at the time that it was an allergic reaction. Now I know. Thus far the Lord has helped me, but my husband says, next time the Lord will have to remind us to use the EpiPen!

Beautiful dreamer (Chapter One in Good Grief series)

Sometimes we make plans, but the Lord directs our steps another way. Like for instance, today I very much intended ot sit on the bench in the greenhouse and enjoy the atmosphere for awhile. One minute after setting out my work zone, the “little messes” began to call my name. Soon I was spending an hour of time tidying up the house. I prefer to clean in the greenhouse than in the regular house. The sound of the pond fountain, the plants, and the fig snacks just keep me coming back. Most of the plants are in thier summer homes and so all of the transplanting material needed to be removed. Also, I had done some clean up last week and the garbage was due to be removed. My daughter gave me a phone call break. And becuase the sun was heating up the geodesic dome, I took my water outside to another bench for the chat.

The first time that my positive pregnancy test ended up in loss was in March of 1999. It was a bit shell shocked to have a positive result tun into such failure by my body. Just forty five days into the gestation. Though we already had two beautiful daughters, I hoped maybe a third would make our nest full. Many arrows make the quiver ready, right?

Looking back on those days, brings a rush of emotions welling up. What am I to do with this still small sadness that creeps unexpected? Back then it was something like how the weed night shade entered our garden during these awful drought years. The dust and wind so hot and dry yet powerful enough to bring grass seed, weed seeds, and the invasive night shade. My knowledge of the plant or my allergic reaction to it was unbeknownst to me during those years of failed pregnancies

How could my body decide to fight itself? It began in my early twenties as I was first diagnosed with ITP. The low platelet disorder took me to the hospital twice in the year nineteen ninety. Auto immune disorders come in so many shapes and sizes. Viral infections usually start the process. And the results are little discoveries of physical weakness and limitations that are sometimes not overcomed by any of man’s innovations or medicines.

Nora was one of the names I had in the “nesting” bank for future use. I think the only person other than my husband that even knew that it was a possible choice was my mother. She told me about all six of her miscarriages and how some had to be cleaned out due to mid-term loss. I was thankful that it was early enough no one knew that it had happened.

While I wished for more little ones, God was not to grant this want of mine. Psalm 23 begins with “the Lord is Shepherd, I shall not want…”. Those words were so hard to except. What were my wants? And what if my hopes and dreams never came to be. What was God trying to tell me in this newfound barrenness?

Learning to live without was a new thought process for me. Meanwhile my spleen was on it’s last leg of use for my body. My platelet count continued to drop into the danger zone. The ITP that I was diagnosed with at age 22 was plaguing my system.

Each day I walk by this cemetery cement ring full of flowers. When my father-in-law offered it to me, I knew exactly where it would go. If find it ironic that we have dreams that morph and change through our life and sometimes one dream is whisked away like clouds in the blue sky. Then another day the clouds take on a new shape and we have new dreams. In the last few of years of living with a spleen and suffering early term miscarriages, I would have thought it cruel to use this cement ring as a flower bed that I pass daily. Now? It is just another reminder that God replaces many lost hopes with His flowers of kindness. His mercies are new every morning. And His grace through the mourning process is ever gentle and new each time we need His comfort.

From My Park Bench

The whole month of June flew by and though there are four drafts in my file, nothing made it to print. The month was busy with farmer’s market, purging flowers and geraniums, trying to stay ahead of the weeds in the garden and some much needed family time. The local farmers market saw us twice. Then the work thing crept in and there just was not time to keep up with everything on the acreage and be gone from home for four or five hours on a Saturday morning. When all you have is the weekend to accomplish the acreage cleanup, the hours become precious. Also, the heat kind of kept us away a couple of times. Purging flowers and plants from the greenhouse took all of the month. I planted the last tomatoes when my niece came for camp weekend. They looked pretty worn out from their little containers. But are thriving in their “space” outside. Most of the larger geraniums are outside the greenhouse now. And thank goodness the wind has given us a break and things look wonderful. Staying ahead of the weeds also meant planting the old “potato” box grow bed into the salad box. It was so hot and dry the day I planted it all. But the thought of it gave me so much pleasure. With some appropriate drip tubing everything is up and green.

Family time this last month meant Sunday lunches with Gavin’s folks. I have been playing piano more at church these days. Though it is somewhat stressful to memorize the entirety, my mind wandered back to the day when as a thirteen year old I thought I would never be able to sit at the keyboard without a line of music in front of me. We had Christmas in June with my family and got together for the first time in over a year. It was so good to see everyone. We also celebrated my mother’s 80th birthday that day.

The month of June was also taken up with kitten care. I started a blog about the ferrel beastings and their little broods, but it seems to have lost it’s importance. After the family gathering, I spent much of the night in grief wondering where the years and time have gone. It’s hard to have the holiday blues in the middle of the summer. But thank the Lord, the days are busier and it did not last long. Nevertheless, I have nearly three drafts started all just in that week alone.

Good Grief!

Who ever coined that phrase anyhow? Grief certainly does not feel good. And there are many times grieving amounts to no good at all. This past month there have been a number of women on my prayer list that have had to deal with their share of grief. So, my mind took a play list of memory lane that I have not visited for some time.

The change of life comes in many different shapes and colors. For me, having early term miscarriages one after another for four years told me child bearing was not to be my main lot in life. I should learn to be grateful for the two beautiful girls that God had gifted us with. About the time I began to except secondary infertility, other things began to change the course of our lives.

Each of the beautiful souls that God gave me a glimpse of are commemorated in my library. The next few weeks I hope to spend some time remembering each of the “hopes” that I once had. I am so thankful that God brought Himself ever close at hand beside me during those days and the memories of His hand holding mine are special to recall.

From my park bench…

This July began with a family birthday gathering. God has blessed our girls with beautiful spouses and gifted us with grandchildren. They bring so much joy and pleasure to our days. I am so thankful that I can count the ways of our Lord in His goodness to us. We spent the fourth of July in quietness and in the heat my husband made me this lovely park bench.

We went to Boston the summer of 2010 and while there I ended up taking a walk on the waterfront by myself one evening. I saw a bench like this in repetition with many women in pairs sitting and catching up with each other on their lives. Of course much of the conversation was in another language. I thought that so particular to Boston. Then last summer my hubby and I took a motorcycle trip and found ourselves visiting a garden. There again were multiples of this particular bench.

I know that my hubby probably hated every minute of trying to measure and cut and assemble this park bench. Knowing his displeasure of carpentry makes the bench all the more meaningful to me.

So for the next six entries, come have a seat on the park bench with me as I share how God has been part of my journey form childbearing through miscarriages and into the present day of good grief!

Romans 8:28 “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God ; to those who are the called according to His propose.”(ESV)

Naming Kittens

Boomerang sits guard as Boston, Java, Zorro, and Latte eat their kitten food. These four kittens are the offspring of Lela, the daughter of Autumn. Two summers ago, the result of kittens mostly black drove me to the neighbors to pick up a new color combination. Boomerang and Tabitha are the only survivors of the migrants. We already renamed the little grey one from this litter. She is happily homed at our daughter’s in laws and named Freya. Rightly named as they picked her up on a rainy day from the greenhouse. I worked in there all morning most days and it was an easier place to keep them boxed and on guard.

Latte and Boston are the friendliest of the four kittens. Latte will sit right in the walking path, which is not real wise with a blind lady running about. So I just pick her up and walk around a while doing my chores with a single hand. Java and Zorro are very jolted and playful. They are much harder to catch. At the food bowl is the best place to nab their little fur bodies and get them use to being handled.

This is my last phot op. These six little kitties belong to Stitch. She had them in the bucket and I moved them to this box. It must be roomy as they are still there. Even through all the stormy weather last week, she kept them put! I get a kick out of the markings. Five of them are all yellow and orange. And then this one… “One of these things is not like the other ones…”. We find ourselves attracted to the unusual markings in kittens. And I was already told that we have to give some of these little things away. Of course…. Our acreage is not going to hold more than six to nine cats. I thing these is enough out buildings, but its the feed bill that gets speedy!

Back to the garden…. The butterfly patch received a new sprinkler stand. My husband welded up a horse shoe and ready rod tripod for the sprinkler. It will still be on the sensor. Any animal attendance will set of the motion. It might not be the best option, but I do not want this flower bed to be the litter box! Then there is the “Bridge Island” that we completed the other day. We dug out the soil and put down weed barrier and rocks. This should keep the bridge from rotting in the moisture and soil. For now I sill use flower pots to dress up the “Island.” The storm did some hail damage to our front window frame, siding, skirting and plants. The wind may have done more damage but we hope all remains minimal in nature. This little pansy survived the hail and is looking quite lonesome!

May showers, dusty gusty wind, and unpredictable temperatures are delaying the garden a bit. However, the greenhouse is doing well and those tomato plants will be rather large by the time we get them outdoors.

I spend an entire day planning the garden row by row. One row of flowers, one row of veggies will be the sequence this year. We are slimming down our garden zones and hopefully my husband will be able to help with the drip line system to watering. I wanted to start building growing boxes for the garden but everything is in short supply and a little too expensive. Priorities will have to be elsewhere.

Gardener’s Hiatus

Another litter of kittens found their way into the dog hut next to the house. Our poor old Eva was kicked out once again. She usually sleeps in the hut on the old house porch though. Lela is the mama kitty. She and Stitch were sister kittens a few years back. Both are quite wild. I cannot catch Lela, though she does come for extra milk and fat the last few weeks.

So there are five little kittens to name and play with and pick up. The little fur balls were not too keen on the handling today. A good pair of sheep gloves came in handy. Two of the little hissy-fits were pretty scary. But I picked them up with out much damage to their pride or my fingers.

The “Complete Sherlock Holmes” has been keeping me company this past week. And the last few days I fell ill with some sort of flu bug that gave me none other than extreme fatigue. Of course, I had to look up sleeping sickness and found there is a real thing. So thank goodness it was not that. But after three days and nights of such lethargy, my hubby dragged me off to the doctor for some blood work and a check up. All is well, just busy fighting off some virus or another.

Glad, to say that I have actually been upright for nearly three hours now! The heavy limbs and head ache are a bit nagging, but none-the-less the symptoms are so few, that I was quite nervous at the amount of sleeping one can achieve when fighting off some viral bug. Much fluid intake at least kept me rising to use the facilities.

Upon some further investigation, we presume perhaps a flu bug just had no chance with all my fluid intake and vitamin consumption. I am rather thankful not to suffer the stomach bug as the some other extended family had the misfortune to befall.

So, inspired by the little hats that I conjured up about a month ago, I began this little prayer shawl. Not sure how many I will make after this fashion, but the pattern is an easy one to attempt and does not require much for concentration. My faculties have been in the dull-drums of late, so it was smoothen to do as I work back into my house keeping chores. Even, the laundry lady suffered. She is nearly exhausted jut over the sorting!. (I am the laundry lady and took a short snooze after that chore completed!)

The chief cook and bottle washer have gone on vacation. The gardener left the morning’s work unattended. The maid has not tended to any of the house hold duties. The dog trainer was under the covers for nearly three days and may return by the morrow. The grandchildren’s Oma even lost tuch with reality for nearly a day or two. None of the text messages were answered. And finally, the hubby’s dear even advised perhaps he should sleep in the other room. She thought the flu bug would result in some unpleasantness. However, the capacitor of all those roles survived with nothing more that much work left undone. Only a few days of catch up required.

All those people are one and the same. The roles I play are not stage perfect. And the occupations that call me back to the present life are beginning to scream louder than the heavy limbs that returned me to my cot. On we go in this life of ours. The bell on the washer is ringing out for the laundry lady to rise from her slumbering ways…

Monday Mumblings

Watching “Mayo Clinic Minute: How weighted blankets “lift anxiety” on YouTube this morning, I learned all about those little sleep hormones and the feel good hug.

One week has passed since I began sleeping with my gravity blanket that we purchased a few years back. I had tried it off and on but never just in itself for a full week trial. It is pretty amazing how a full week of rested sleep changes one’s mood! It must be knocking my anxiety hormones down a bunch, because for the first time in fur-ever, Honey took a nap on my lap!

Unfortunately her “serviceability” goes way down when she senses anxiety . She feeds on it and gets more hyper! This is not very helpful to say the least. So, in spite of the fact that she is now five years old, I am going to look for a trainer that can give me the right response commands to get this crazy dog down on all fours when the her hyper kicks in.

Saturday morning my dear helper hubby found the aphids moved into the pansies that i multiplied to hundreds. We spent a few hours treating them with some nnatural remedies. They look a little tough but I will be spreading them out into some more spacious quarters today and hopefully things will go well with the proper treatments. It’s so difficult to keep on top of it all once the nasty bugs begin their residency.

This is Holy week for the Christian and Jewish populous. It is always such a special holiday for me. Both of my daughters were baptized on Easter morning during their teen years. Easter has so much triumph and hope. How can the rest of the world live without that joyous celebration? I am so glad that we are back to church gatherings and that the “pandemic” shifted to endemic and everyone is just kind of “over” all of the talk. Yes, there are some rough memories, but not gathering has to be the worst. People are meant to live in community. And not being together makes everyone so depressed and cranky.

The wind blew something fierce the end of last week, and I though all of the old anxieties would come back also. Then I found Amy Carmichael’s book “The Edges of His Ways.” Though it is a daily devotional, I listened to nearly a full month. One of her notes was about the wind. And she encouraged me to look for inspiration from the wind that the Lord blows my way. So rather than fighting the blustery forecast for another day, I took up the “inspired by” list that i could find. The first one was comforting classical compositions that were inspired by … you guessed it-The Wind! Some of the pieces I have heard before but many were new to me. So the next time that I feel overwhelmed by my circumstances, I am just going to begin with looking for inspired by… a list that helps me turn the thing around and lifts up the mood.

This morning, I uncovered the rose bush that I planted in the tire flower bed next to the greenhouse. Today is going to be another beautiful day here. Without that nasty gale to knock me over. I also went out and zip tied the wind wheel at the Hydrant flower bed to the water meter pole there. The poor wind wheel has been knocked over so many times from the westerly hurricane breezes. (And we do not have hurricanes here… just the wind.). That made me FEEL like I had really accomplished something.

Then, I spray painted the basket that I had crocheted. The dye in the wood glue had not worked entirely to color the basket green. So I emptied the black spray paint on it. The rest of the paint was used on the wire baskets in the greenhouse. I had not done anything to them since purchase. That too FELT like I was really doing something. Then I repotted the little holiday cactus starts into two beautiful red pots that I found while shopping the other night at our local wally world. They look so happy. And now they will thrive. The other containers had proved to be too small over the long haul. The little plants had been in their since Thanksgiving and I would constantly forget about them. So they were either too hot, too wet, or too dry. There you go little holiday cactus starts. And I even decided who I am giving them to as gifts. But I am not telling you.

It’s not Monday. Thank goodness. You would not have wanted to talk to me this Monday. My visit to the greenhouse found the pansy stats much worse than before. I tossed quite a number of them due to some nasty little fly of some sort. We treated them again last night at sundown so I hope there is not burn from the spray. It is just not fun growing plants to just toss them out. Part of my eyesight problem, part of the learning curve.

So here goes to a lengthy post again. Today, I hope to get a new mosaic crochet project going. My last two project attempts were a bit lacking. I did not like the outcome. Yep, I feel like I spent the whole time mumbling. But I got it all out right? And the gravity blanket is still working to help me sleep. Yay!

Bad hair day

Monday was a bad hair day for me. While today’s hair is definitely bed head, the picture fits. Waking up in a shadow mood set me up for an emotionally dead day. The battle to avoid saying the wrong thing ended with a journal entry worthy of trash.

So after fighting the head ache with all the normal things, the decision to simply go back to bed was made. Other people might not have that option. Since no one is here to stop me, back to bed it was.

Dreams about log picking or stacking are common themes in my nightmare migraine mode. Either being chased and having the paths clogged with fallen trees, or stumbling over large surface roots fill my sleep attempts. This day being chased by others with torches and forced to carry my cross beam did not make for much rest. Burned at stake, and waking up feeling tied down was common.

Just when my emotional state is most empty and the longing for some cuddly little snuggly critter overcomes me, Honey rises to the alert service dog that she is and saves my life once again. Sleeping nearly eighteen hours with a few moments of awake to eat, drink or relieve myself was a bit of a shock. More so was Honey hitting and bumping my hand with persistence to wake me up. She would not stop nosing my hand until I actually took both puffs on my inhaler. Then she would lick my hand as if to say “good” and go lay back down. She did this job three times Monday into Tuesday morning.

Dark, depression days are something like a shadow life for me. My memory of these thoughts goes all the way back to my teenage years. The battle to emerge out of these dark valleys is lifelong. The last ten years of solitude days have counted more shadow days than sunshine. Some times my emotional being is a dragonfly skimming across the surface of a ditch full of dirty water. And I wonder when the rain storm will come, causing my wings to loose their strength and I will be sucked into the swirling drain pipe and drown. I know that is not a pretty picture.

Where is my faith in all of this? Scripture and the the Bible has always been there to lift me out of the darkness. The pit of self pity and mental vomit must be cleansed by God’s word. Rising up out of myself means letting Jesus blow the healing breeze that will let my spirit soar once again. Is life to be full of these roller coasters all of my earthly journey? Must this life in which I dive and plummet nearly to destruction and then be lifted up once again be so constant? David writes in the Psalms about the downcast soul. And then he writes again “Bless the Lord, o my soul!” Oh, that my heart, soul, mind, and strength could be in the same place of worship all of the time! Faith is no magic wand. Prayer is not some magic words.

Here is the latest mosaic crochet that I have completed during this past week or two of physical, emotional, and spiritual battles. There have been a few books in the pile next to me as a crochet. And no, Honey does not sit next to me. She usually falls asleep on the othe rside of the room.

It’s “wind”-s-day again. The whistling , howling ambient sound is not pleasant and peaceful. The thoughts of others in the path of the storm does not help. My prayer list has been updated for the others list this week. Taking my mind off of myself and thinking about others helps. The refugees, the cancer survivor, the brain surgery recovery, the waiting for a kidney transplant, the sniffly nose, the coughing, the allergy sufferers, the war torn lands and people. ALL remind me that my life is relatively easy. Get out of the mire and the mud and get on with the day. Call Honey in for a hug even if she growls while I administer my own healing potion.

Isaiah 12:3. (ESV). “Therefore with joy you will draw water From the wells of salvation.” This is the promise from God’s word that I am clinging to this week. While there is no Joy is seems and I am not even sure which wells God would have me dig up, I will ONE day find joy again. He will provide for my salvation and He will be glorified in it.