Tag: expectations of self

Stacking Logs for the Yuletide

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Of visions and dreams, many of which are in the past, here are a few that I cannot forget. I hope that I am gaining some insight from these night time entertainments!

As a little child, trying to climb the ladder, only to find it leads to a diving board that is over the abyss of fire and there is no answer. This dream came before my understanding of Jesus as my Savior. I have dreams of ladders still, but mostly of steps, or staircases that seem never to end. Now I know Jesus is the bridge across the divide.

In Iowa when I was seeking purpose as my children were little and husband was suffering from depression and thyroid crash beginnings, I had many “sound” visions. The alarm, the telephone ringing, the trumpet blast, the thunderous waterfall, the wind in the wilderness, and others. Most of them were followed by specific Bible passages and the interpretation or understanding to go with these verses. I wrote many songs during that time frame and my ears were open to the words of the Holy Spirit. It is such a strong relationship memory with My Lord and I. So thankful that God carried me through my illness with ITP for 12 years with a close walk those four or five years.

Another reoccurring dream is stacking logs. I still don’t quite fully understand all the implications except for the accumulation of of things and stuff on this earth. Things and stuff are such a trap and the weight of all this stuff and really ruin a person. It’s hard, because our parents havee spent 50 plus years of gathering things and left them to be dispersed only by what stuff we have ourselves to divide all out betwixt ourselves and our children. How do I essentially leave a legacy that is not simply a pile of logs to be burned up?

This little cupboard is a washstand replica that my father-in-law made for me. I filled it with my “logs” of shawls. It’s probably time to gift a few of them!

And then one day, I thought of the visuals of yarn logs, or cakes of yarn and the walls behind some of my favorite you tube tutorial teachers…. Is crocheting my “stacking of logs” just to be burned up? I better think of a better use of my projects for proper give-away.

This month, I changed my thought process on yarn projects. Oh, how I love the warm shawls while I sit and work. But no one else seems to value the prayer shawl as I do. So it’s time for Christmas ornaments, doily displays, pillows, or afghans. What are the most common give-away items for crochet, I thought? So, I looked it up.

Hats, scarves, blankets, animal stuffies and … dishcloths. Well, dishcloth’s are out as I have an entire bag full of them. Oh yes bags! I love making bags. Scarves are quick and blankets are time consuming. Ahhh, yes, the hats! The whole set is fun, with the mittens, turtle scarf (cowl neck warmer) but what other home decor can I give away?

These two matching pillows are hot off the hook! I just finished the matching one on the right after I found my yarn stash in the tote under the bed.

And while I was making those pillows, my mind went to the lost cause… well, okay, the lost yarn. When the kids came to stay in August I spend a few days hurriedly packing away much of my clutter. That included several bags of yarn and loose end projects. But where had I stashed the yarn? I spent the next few months looking for the yarn. I tore apart three closets and put everything back. Then I cleaned under all the beds and got rid of the dust bunnies. Until finally last Saturday, I began to wonder if the one bed had four totes under it instead of just three. There at last I found my whole tote full of yarn! Now I could make the matching pillows!

so, yes, stacking logs is not my favorite past time experience anymore. Stacking crochet shawls should not be either. Perhaps gifting away many of my projects should be more in my thought process than just passing the time. The stuff can start spilling out of all the corners and all the closets, and all the totes pretty quickly!

Out of the Silence

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New book reviews and learning to reflect. While I have “read” nearly four or five books in the past few months, the book that I am doing right now is “Unlearning Silence.” (author Elaine Lin Hering)

Today as I listened about silencing personhood spirits, I thought of the verse from Jesus about murdering and killing with words. So many times we “joy kill” or “steal dreams” and how has this happened in my own life, or have I done this to others.

I have a few silencing stories to share that probably would make the other person cringe if they really knew what had happened or how I felt in the situation. One recently was while discussing allergy experience and taking the right anecdotes. I tried to tell about my learning as was silenced as if my knowledge was inferior and incomprehensible. I felt “idiotic”or “dumbed down” by the way I was responded to. It was a real turn off. Yep, I decided not to share my “knowledge” anymore. Even though I knew that I was right and my ER visit was more recent than the other person I was talking to.

Another time in my life I asked a friend for a ride to one of my daughter’s daytime recital hours, only to be refused with “Oh, I don’t think I can do that.” I was so hurt by the rejection, I really never asked this person for anything ever again. And while she still attempts friendliness, my heart has been guarded ever since that rejection and careful not to set myself up for pain. What kind of true friendship is that?

Another time of being “shushed” that really stepped on my toes was when a conversation between two women had a moment where I felt I could relate. I tried to say something about my father in a related sitiuation only to be literally “shushed” by one of the women. It was so painful. And knowing this relationship was in the season of “coffee hours” spend together, while I was in so much pain and loneliness missing the exact “time” and relational season. There were so many moments in that season where I was silenced by the individual, I had a lot of letting go and soul searching to do while I waited for the person to come back to even being “interested” in my caring, sharing and prayers.

Today’s exercise is all about breaking the silence, coming out of the isolation, and finding connections. One time about a year or so ago, someone actually told me “thank you” for sharing in my blogs about being blind and going blind. So here’s my frustration from just this week. My apologies for this being so real and sharp. If just one person hears this, it was worth saying.

Someone is probably not going to like this story of silencing at all, and that’s okay, because it’s my story to tell. When my husband and I were dating we used to go out to eat with a group of friends to a local Mexican restaurant and have a late night meal. While for the most part these memories are very fun and memorable, there is one night when things took a very hard turn. One of the participants in the group gave him a birthday present this first August that was the perfect silencing gift. Perhaps getting a can of WD40 spray oil is normal. Later on I asked what was meant by it. He did in all honesty not seem to mind that this “mean” person essentially told everyone there she could not stand that at times I would “squeak.” I was not aware of my laughter snort or squeak and it took me awhile to get the whole meaning behind this silencing. Funny how it really did set up the relationship over the next many years to be one in which I was inevitably “shut down” and being myself was never welcome around this person. It really saddens me to see that this practice has come full circle and the very person who gave him the oil can has been silenced by a health crisis.

Sunday we went to church and were a little late in arriving for the fellowship hour. The ladies table was full and the next table over was relatively empty when I entered. My husband did not get me coffee or find me a seat. I walked very slowly toward the coffee bar and there was a toddler standing in the center of the walking aisle. Thank goodness I saw the toddler. His sibling was sitting in the chair back turned and saw my interaction with the little guy. “That’s our baby!” She stated. I responded with, “well, he doesn’t look much like a baby ‘cause he’s standing up already!” Yeah, she said and went back to her snack. The little guy was not going to move, so I patted him on the head and walked past. No failing eyesight at that moment. Win. Next, I picked up my coffee and greeted my relative. She is hard of hearing now, so it was just a shoulder squeeze and a smile. Then it was time to decide about sitting. I chose a seven year old boy eating his snack alone. My chat with him was engaging and fun. Time to head to class the moment to connect was over.

My eyesight traps me in a little hallway sometimes. Like there is invisible walls on either side of me and seeing an open doorway to another individual most often times is missed. Sometimes I wonder just how many times someone has tried to engage me with a smile, a word not heard (I am also completely deaf in my left ear) and someone thinks that I am just rude. Really, I simply did not see.

I went to the doctor on Friday for my earaches. My allergies have arrived at the point where it feels like someone stuck a marble behind each ear. Pretty painful. The nurse leading me to the room said “we’ll turn right into this room“ while she gestured with her hand to go left. I actually caught the gesture and and then she said “I mean the other right-LEFT.” I laughed, and said it’s okay, I actually saw that gesture with your hand this time.

My eyesight got ahold of me yesterday and I tried to shut the door over my little granddaughter’s toes. I had not seen her there in the doorway when I came in. Rough moment. Her cry demanded my response and my apology, “I’m, sorry, Oma did not see you here in the door. It’s probably not the best place to be when someone is coming in and out. Will you forgive me for hurting your toe?” It was met with an “okay” and a sniffle. Bother for teaching these little one’s the hard way about my eyesight. I hate that I have to hurt them for them to understand.

The end of the book is not here yet. I guess I am a little slow if I only read for a half hour at a time. The book came from the State Library and while I intended to send it right back with the reader, and get set up on BARD on my phone, nothing has happened yet, so I’m still listening. Sometimes it is kind of like the radio, where it’s nice to have someone else pick the music. Maybe we will listen to something we’ve never heard before and actually enjoy it. Books are like that. I don’t always know what to pick. Like when we try to pick a movie on the watch app only to still be surfing the titles thirty minutes later. Recommendations are great!

While I am still attempting to listen and be correct in my speech this journal entry is now too long. So on I go into the next. Silence is deafening today as the wind is blowing a bit too much. The classic radio is going, the Bible is droning in the background, and I’m thinking about who I can call and suffer through a phone call with!

Ordinarily

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Remember that silly little song “The Cat Came Back?” Well, it wasn’t even five days after saying goodbye to Crush that the black cat that I brought home from Colome two summers ago came back to this place. Had he really been displaced by Crush and stayed on the outskirts of the property until now? We think it might be Zucchini as sister Pepper died on the road. Enough of the cat saga, it’s time to fill in other details.

Another ordinarily is that I would put a picture of Zucchini her to show you how he sits on top of the kids swingset, but my blog says my data upload option os shut off because my media storage is full. I’m a blind person and have no idea how to fix this problem. So there is the mental picture you figure it out.

Ordinarily, I think of some little story of the kids to tell. One day each week with the grandkids fills the love tank and gives me all kinds of little happenings to tell the greats. There’s only one great left to tell- my mother. And since she is at an assisted living facility it is awful hard to get ahold of her. So then, I would save the stories for the greats at the church coffee hour. But now even those have dwindled in number, as we say goodbye to another one today.

A new month brings with it the hopes for the future. And some more goodbyes also. My hubby’s birth month ends with his mother’s birthday. Not having her will be bittersweet as we take hold of new memories and hold a new little one in our arms. August is full of possibilities. But today we remember one of his mom’s dear friends who just passed away.

When we say that the “landscape” is changing we think about the recent storms and the loss of tree tops and structures no longer here. But in our lives the look of persons no longer sitting in their places at church is also part of the landscape change. We have lost so many giants in the faith at our church this past year. And the deaths of so many parents in the 80 something years makes the stream seem bare. Oh Lord, that my roots stay deep into the living water during this vast changing season of our lives.

Ordinary days have taken on an emptiness that is hard to explain. Si many days I want to make that call to my dad or my mom-in-law and it’s just not possible. I added some siblings ti ny favorite call list but there are times no one fits the “tell”list fit what I am thinking about.

The song “ I must tell Jesus” goes thru my mind frequently.

And then like some nightmare, I come across a secular song that has all the wrong thought processes. “Immortality” by the BeeGee’s and a guest singer, talks about following the path that lies ahead as we walk without the loved one who has gone from our lives. They try to say that “We don’t say goodbye”… but we all know better. While the memories live on, and the things that the person said and did still echo in our heads, our hearts hurt and the goodbye is still there to sting and bite like an unknown bee in the flowers that we grasp unto each time that we call them to mind.

Echoes in the mountains only last for a short while. Echos of loved ones gone before the fullness of time are the hardest to handle. Echoes of genetic trace within the family carry on into the future beyond our comprehension.

Ordinarily, I would sit in my chair and crochet while the stories of others carry me through the stitches. Perhaps today it is time to take up another pass time. Telling the stories of the people that made me has always been one of my “dreams.” While there are books, movies, experiences, and occupations, it is the people that surround us that make us who we are.

The song begins “So this is who I am / And this is all I know / I must choose to live / For all that I can give…”. There are two kinds of people in this world, givers and takers. And it always fascinates me that the takers are so confused about true giving. Being a giver is taught. And oh the job of the mother to teach patience in the taking, and to teach love in the giving.

Another ordinarily is my Reading apps. I first used the Google reader. Then they removed the “free” option. We tried Envision, and now they dropped that reader and changed it to “Ally.” I think the next one I use will be be ChatGPT or something like that. So at the moment my reader is all garblety gook and very frustrating. The software changed so frequently, it does not even know who she is when she looks in the mirror. Ordinarily I’d say something kind, but right now I’m a little frustrated iwth software updates.

And one final note about roadwork, changes that lead to dead ends…. My daughter’s new house is causing me quite the meantal battles. The flooring is all the same. And the walls are all the same colors. So finding my way through the house often leads me right into a brick wall. Well, okay maybe it’s just the fact that the hall ends with the wall on angle and the door protrudes out from that. It is a light at the end of the tunnel nightmare, because the end of the hall is dark. I have found the door, the wall, the china cabinet, the wrong door, the chair, the corner of the doorway and many other objects except what I was looking for. Ordinarily using my cane would be a better way of finding my hoped for path, but I am stubborn about using my cane in the house where it could make children trip. So I stuggle on.

Of Odd Numbers

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Five and seven are consecutive odd numbers. And while that may be the age of that person in the mirror, I refuse. There are some parts older and some parts younger. For instance, my lungs are older, along with my eyes, my ability to do sports. The youthfulness of my imagination and my “wannabe“ never match.

That day, it was the asthma that ruins my ambition.

Adn here it is three days later. We received 7/10 of rain yesterday. That made for a soggy day. Not enough to leave any puddles. It was a perfect cloudy day to doing some transplanting the day before. All of the little Blanket Flower plants look happy after having a day of rest from the sun while they got used to a bigger pot.

So it means the weekend is here and much should happen but ambition will be the deciding factor. I gound some pretty blooms to photgraph today. My favorite is from the pear tree.

In this day of artificial intelligence is there anything real anymore? I use to enjoy watching vids on my iPad to entertain myself while in a state of boredom. But after checking out the validity of a particular story that seemed real, I learned there just isn’t much on the vid false line that can be trusted. So if I give up this pass-time or time out eccentricity, what will become of my time. What is there “to do?”

So much of our time is spent moving things from spot A to spot B. Yet it is the lot in our lives just simply to decide whether something we touch is to keep, to give away or to throw in the trash. Thus goes the days of our lives and it is nothing like the old Soap Opera of daytime television.

While sitting down at my grand daughter’s birthday party I was visited by reality. I asked the children if I could sit with them because I was only “five and seven.” She piped right up with “that’s fifty seven Oma!” And I let her be right and look smart infrom of all her cousins of which she is the oldest.

So while time marches on to next years birthdays, we will continue to count the days and allow God to number our years.

Morning Glory

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Crochet is so addictive. I found a new pattern last month and asked my hubby to buy it for me. We put it in my E-book on my phone so that I can easily access it. The pattern done by Crazy Cat Lady is a mosaic crochet variable with several different options. The first one I tried of course turned out much bigger than I expected.

Snow finally arrived with a howling wind winter storm and the days that I did the most work on the project, the radio, the tv and an audio book kept me sane. I still have trouble with whistling wind storms and anything over 20 mph can just about drive me insane.

The project is finished and does look okay. There are things that I would have changed had I known how big it would be. Nevertheless it is pretty.

Books keep me going. I don’t know how anyone can function without books. So many people spend their time watching tv, or playing video games I wonder at the lack of productivity. Yes, I can see evenings spend in relaxation, I do that some also. But most of the time my fingers simply can’t sit still. I am such a fidget artist.

Morning glory is a weed around these parts. No one in their right mind would plant the ground cover here. It simply takes over everything in the garden. But our worst problem is bind weed. It has no flower, and wraps itself around upright growth like a boa constricted. It’s power to choke out the pretty plants is so frustrating. Why I think of morning glory with this pattern is beyond me. Perhaps it will all make sense someday.

“Oh that will be glory for me” is a hymn line chorus that has also been taking over my awake moments in the night hours. There is a verse about having a “night song” that I often think of when I am struggling to stay asleep. Though I think I finally found the right supplement to help me.

Magnesium comes in several types. Citrate and glycerinate are the two ai am now familiar with. Calcium with magnesium citrate is best for bone health. I have been taking this for several years to aid my post menopause body and avoid osteoporosis which runs in the family. Also, it helps keeps my mood on an even tide! Recently I was introduced to magnesium glycerinate to help as a sleep aid. What a world of difference it is to have full night sleep in my life again.

Next up on the crochet list is more yarn. I have used up my stash and taken out two unhappy old projects in the midst. I need to find some crochet three smaller than standard 4 ply that will not split and make me frustrated while doing mosaic patterns. I do enjoy most baby yarn so perhaps that is the preferred option over sport weight. though I think I will try a smaller hook size on the next project first.

Learning how to do the year or a signature in the project is my next challenge. And doing the year came first. I could have moved it up a row or two to be more symmetrical in the pattern but next time will be better right? My hubby always teases that one might need a “get better soon” card when attempting some projects. Not a card because there is illness involved, but a hope that one will do a better job next time!

I managed to get the year into this project. It turned out okay.

Quick updates are not easily completed with so many interruptions. And how can I be the source of so many of my own lack of focus. Since the snow storm, the the snowmen collection has been packed up. I actually got so dizzy trying to pack up them. So I asked my hubby to finish. My eyesight simply would not let me move from the surface of the display to wrapping them up. This was just not enjoyable at all.

Back to the books that have kept me sane. I had a couple of silly romances. But now I am going through the book by Dr. Jeffrey Rediger called “Cured.” This book will probably lead me to other books. Or not. I got the book finished and found it somewhat lacking. It basically convinced me that everyone has is individual and special and can only follow their own conscience and listen to their own body. Everyone has their own journey. Each dash is special.

Meanwhile I am back to my pattern study and doing a couple of back pack bags. I also finished this project. And then found another pattern to do. The month of March ended with a commission project for a high school senior. That should be fun once I ever get startedQ

Yarns About the Year (2024 Crochet Review)

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We began the year with a new look on the sofa. And considering we sit opposite the couch most of the time, it’s a good look. Sofa cushions finally came the end of the year at Christmas, but alas I failed the picture taking fo that one. Most of the time there is a little black Shih Tzu pretending he is a cat sitting on the top of the back. It is the most comfortable window watching position in the house.

The sofa got a new five row C2C afghan quilt in January.

Sweater making became my next goal. Poor Kona does not take the temperatures dropping below 20 degrees Fahrenheit very well. Neither do I so, making him an appropriate sweater was a must. He was about 14 lbs when this was made. And though he now weighs fifteen, it still fits. February saw him get a good professional grooming session also.

Next up was remaking the “Furbie” balnket into one for Kona. At reverse image black and white, I could not find Kona on the black half. Part of me had a hard time actually using Furbie’s blanket. He was such a good family dog. Will this little guy ever become that kind of all people’s pet? So once again we made the C2C quilt afghan. He likes it in his new bed that we made later in the year. The year was marching right along the crochet hooks!

April and May were a little busy. We are kind of calling this a parent season in our lives. We are trying not to feel so overwhelmed by everything that needs to be done while we run to the aid of one parent or another. We want to be with then as much as is possible. My mother suffered some minor strokes and ended up selling her house. Saying goodbye to to the old pet’s blanket seemed pretty insignificant.

New stitch time came in June as I picked up that Tunisian five count “Entrelak” stitch again. This time I found that using a bigger hook really helped make a softer fabric. I enjoyed a couple of sample projects before making one that I was happy with the outcome. First I made a shawl, and then I made a shrug. Later in the year I began a leftovers afghan.

June and July were spent “practicing” the Entrelac crochet stitch.

Late summer, I left the Tunisian to return to mosaic for awhile. This shawl is actually acting asa table runner for now in my home on the coffee table. The yellow one is on another table in a bedroom. So there was August and September in a flash. Fall arrived with its life alterations for our family. And I just did not spend as mushy time crocheting as I thought I did.

So many new favorites

I also made this beautiful remake poncho for my mom during August maybe? She had purchased the fisherman’s wool yarn a few years back. I made a simple lapghan back then. But this one is just plain pretty compared to what it used to be.

Next I began the grand Give Away afghan. Really, I never liked the pool blue yarn anyway. But the blanket is amazingly warm, comfortable and quite stunning! Yes, I gave it away. Now I can buy more yarn and start another project. Right?

And the little hats were part of the bigger project. I bought the yarn originally for hats. Then got going on the afghan. I made less than a dozen hats this year. Just was not into the idea, I guess. They were cute though. And having the hat size chart sure helps! November was a tough time for the whole family as we learned to live without one of our favorite old persons. Having the head of the family go heavenward just changes so much.

Back to favorites for the close of the year. I can’t believe the project list is so minimal this year. There are a few things in between hear and there, but nothing worth mentioning. I still listen to a lot of books while I crochet. On occasion I put on a move. But it’s kind of hard to watch TV and m hands at the same time.

The stickiest book for the year was the one I read on Mother Theresa. I can still quote things for the book even though it timed out on my listening app. I read Tom Brokaw’s “The Greatest Generation” and have to agree with my mother that it should be required reading for every American eight grader. I got hooked on Brian Jaques “Redwall” seriesl and just can’t seem to get enough of them. If there was something more fo adults like that I wish someone would tell me. Call it research for my book about Cocoa I suppose. I tabled some of the thoughts that I had and am working on just letting my mind wander for a little while. I have so many children’s book ideas. Not really sure why my get up and go is lagging behind a little.

I also did a couple of of rug overs…. Or make over rugs, like just adding to ones that I had so they were appropriate sized. I have two more rugs I want to build bigger. Haha. I am hoping if the little guy sees me making them, he will decided they are not pee-mats. Uff dah. I just wish he would tell me every time! And of course it is always fun to find all of the yarn wraps and count them. That will take some dancing around the furniture and baskets to find them all. And yes, I did less crochet projects this year. Only 31 skein wraps to be found. Some of them one pound wraps and others just baby bee cotton or something. Less, yes, much less than in years past!

Senior Moments: Kona’s Journal

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From last September until now seems like a decade. But really it has only been twelve months and a few weeks since this little black lap top came into my life. One year ago I was almost embarrassed to tell anyone that I got another dog. Why? Well, because I already had two at the time and another seemed excessive.

Yet, get Kona we did. We exchanged cash for him in the Burger King parking lot, only to find out that we both had driven farther than necessary. Kona was raised by a breeder just three and a half miles from our home. Ohm, well. We were pleased. And for the first time, I did not complain about the pain of riding in the vehicle as the seats simply do not fit my small frame.

And how did we get here? To this day of small black puppy sitting quietly on the lap while I type away… Okay, he actually has to sit next to me while I type. But as long as he has a bath every two weeks or so, he is content to sit next to me. Apparently it feels really good to be clean. No videos in the archives. He is simply too fast for me to catch after his zoomees from being clean.

September 29th just a few days after we brought him home, I began the lap training. It was time to stop bringing the cat in the house for a warm little body on the legs. And that bean bag that you put in the microwave always gets cold after a little while. Yes, Kona is much more effective as a lap warmer.

The other moments are rather hard for me to catch on film. I am just not good at photography anymore. Trying to catch the “moment” usually means I’ve missed the moment that meant to be captured! So most of the time I simply don’t try.

Winter moments of frigid outdoors did not seem so awful, when I knew that there was a warm up soon. Really, my blood pressure had been so low before the puppy, that I would often shiver uncontrollably after meals. I knew that I really needed to get moving more often. The other dog (doodle nightmare) only needed out three times a day and she often did not need supervision. So getting moving with a puppy seemed better for my physical needs.

That was winter, then came the spring. Honey got really sticky and naughty and decided she simply could not abide by our commands anymore. After nearly two months of “fighting” with her, I decided I simply was not willing to be someone that I was not. She must have been better at some point? No, all of my challenges and struggles day to day were definitely her pushing me over the edge of anger. I was done.

Spring rolled into summer and life became a little less stressful with only two “good boy” dogs around. We were so amazed at the peace that could be had in our lives.

While this little guy did present a few challenging moments, we learned that there is never enough socialization to be had. He presented us with some anxious crate dog prizes and also decided to be difficult in the potty training area. Why would he simply not just tell us? Uff day! Puppies can be so stubborn sometimes.

Summer rolled right into fall, and this year without the canning frenzy, I tried to pay more attention to the black mop. We made a couple of adjustments to his feeding. We were able to move from puppy food to adult food with a little moisture added to each feeding. Constipation is an issue for a puppy that does not exercise enough to actually drink a lot. Keeping the food a little wet has helped much.

We did not celebrate his gotcha day. Charlie’s “Gotcha Day” came and went with the farewell to Honey. So I guess we had two bummer family dog days. Kona’s Gotcha Day was when dad was in the hospital and we simply did not feel like specialty moments. Life was hanging in the balance and though the dog was enjoyable, people are so much more important.

While I have more than a dozen lap photos of Kona, these four seemed to spell it out the best. Life is full of seasons. Spring, summer, fall and winter we find memories that carry us into the next one. Sometimes the seasons are short like the puppy-hood. Other times fall seems way too short and winter much too long. Spiritually speaking seasons can go on much longer than we anticipate. Finding the moments worth savoring is what matters.

I am so thankful that my desire for a little lap munchkin was also part of getting me out of the chair more often. I need to get up and walk more. Even when I take Kona with me to my daughter’s house, or over to other places, it’s his need to go out that keeps me moving. I am glad for the excuse to get walking a little more. And I am perfectly fine with the fact that a Shih Tzu dog is a senior dog. I am an Oma-grandma four times now, and I guess that makes me well suited to own a dog best fit for seniors!

Truth Time from Kona: Just the other day these two old geezers missed my cue to go potty. I mean really, the music on the TV show was much too loud. So instead of listening to my huffs and puffs, they totally ignored me. So I told them. I went back tot he bedroom, jumped up on the bed and let it loose. Really what was I supposed to do? My bladder was about to blow up like a water balloon on a brick wall. Well, they did not like that, I guess. I’m back on the tether again. I don’t mind. Maybe they will listen next time.

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

Published on by yvonneannette2 Comments

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!