Tag: family ties

Code Name Message

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I recently came across some studies about the coded messages in Scripture through looking at the names in the genealogy lists. There are several available links on the web if you just search it. The Messianic Message encoded in the Genesis chapter five list of names was the first one that I looked at. Then there is Matthew chapter one and others. It’s kind of fun. So I thought, why not loopk up my own family heritage and their name meanings.

So the first task was to find all of my mother lineage or the matrilineal. Somehow I could only go back four generations. My great-great-grandma Helen was a school teacher in Nebraska. And I did not find any information on her mother or where she came from.

While sharing all the facts on the web, and putting myself out there in care of identity fraud scares me some. So I’ll do my best at encoding. Haha If you read my blog all the way through maybe there is something to be learned.

Beginning with Yvonne a derivative of Yew wood. What? The Yew wood evergreen tree in Europe is an enduring long lived tree of short stature. Yep, that’s me the shortest one in the family. While long lived is yet to be seen, endurance doesn’t seem as far fetched. When I was able to run track in junior high, I ran the last and longest leg of the relay. So for a short time I did have endurance in my running ability. But longevity in my ability to play piano has proved true. Even though I can no longer read the music, I am graced with new listening skills every year.

Recently listening to the songs of faith in relation to Holy week, I played “The Holy City” for the first time with no music. It was always so hard when I had to read the music and figure out all of the symphonic rhythms and such. I was quite pleased with myself for learning the new song and just have to work on the third verse yet some.

My middle name Annette means “God gives favor or grace.” And I think I already heard that before. My maiden name with all it’s connections to my father gets into being “high born” or “breeding stock.” Which is kind of funny when I think how important my Grandpa’s cows were to him. He had more pictures of his cows than any other thing. I like to think of the meaning more about the mercy God showed me in leading me to be born again through Christ. And finally my married name meaning scholar or scribe, brings me to realize yet again just how much writing means to me. God gives me endurance, grace, a higher calling to write what will matter to the next generation.

Llangernyw Yew Wood tree in Great Britain. Looked up history of oldest Yew tree and found this wikipedia link! Fun Facts!

Now to the matrilineal message God has given me. Helen who was a milliner means “bright and shining one.” I know that God is the true Light. Helen’s daughter Marie was a school teacher, homemaker, and mother. I wore her wedding dress at my own wedding. The delicate hand stitched roses were so pretty. Marie means “beloved.” And that’s truly how I felt that day and ever since. Marie’s daughter Mildred was her second daughter. Mildred means “gentle strength” and that is truly how I view my grandma. She was verbally abused as a child for being a girl instead of a boy and did not let that affect how she treated her five children or 18 grandchildren. My mother’s name Sharon means “a fertile, level plain.” I think of my mother as being the one who cultivated each of her children to accept the seeds of eternal life. When the whole message is put together I see God’s handwork in the message of love for me. God the bright shinng Light calls me His beloved, giving me strength and spiritual fertility in my soul for endurance.

The surname message is almost the same. Yahweh the Gracious God is faithful. More faithful than the rising sun, the Lord of the morning is Lord of the harvest. He who made the seed, plants the seed and harvests the seed gives life. God planted eternity within my heart. Born of the Spirit into a Higher calling to write and study His ways! Yes God is the gracious, faithful, morning star, planting and reaping the souls of hearts whom He has written eternity upon. I love that verse in Ecclesiates that says that. Ecclesiastes 3:11. “God has put eternity in man’s heart.”

Names do have meanings. And many people name their children sill alphabetical names without thinking of the future implications. Both my daughters were named after pretty flowers. So there’s that. I did not look up the grandmothers names on my paternal set. But I did do the full sentence of surname and first names.

Yahweh, the Bright and Shining is faithful to His beloved. The Warrior (Lord) of the morning is gentle and strong. The Reaper will sow an enduring forest! Another sentence says “The enduring words sown in the fertile soul will be a harvest. Like the strength of the morning sun overcoming the cold of night, God is gentle, faithful to His Beloved the Lord Yahweh shines life through every breath that I take.” There are so many ways that God speaks to us. Are we listening?

This week is Holy Week in the Christian calendar. The weather is giving us another roller coaster ride. One day we wear t-shirts and the next day dig out the winter coat again. Preparing for Easter for me will be cleaning up that first bed room again. And making a menu for my grocery man.

We got my mother moved back to assisted living after her rehab stay. That was exhausting. So much. Just plain much. I hope we can do some more to make her rooms more accessible in the next visit also. So perhaps that’s what I ought to be focusing on here also. It’s just so much easier to to sit and crochet.

Enough of my field entrance ramblings, the topic at hand is names. I took a look at the names of those mentioned in the Gospels who stayed with Christ beneath the cross. John 19:25, “Now there stood by the cross of Jesus His mother, and His mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene.” (Also His disciple John). Mary has three or more meanings. And there were three of them there, so Beloved, bitter, and rebellious all seem appropriate. Magdalene means woman from the high tower or watch tower. Yes, she did certainly watch her Lord until the end. Cleopas means “Glory of the Father”. And yes, that fits also as Jesus was the Glory of God come down to earth. John means God is gracious, or Yahweh is gracious. And yes the emblem of the cross has become synonymous with God’s grace. The interaction at eh foot of the cross between Jesus, John and His mother Mary has been repeated often. For in this directive, He commanded John to take care of His mother. It is an intensely private and special moment.

Perhaps it resonates so well with me after having watched three of our four parents enter into eternal rest over the last year. There were not a whole lot of commands or directives at the last moments. Except for my father-in-law’s statement “I’m not worried about tomorrow.” There was nothing else said that really sticks in my mind as a directive or command. Yet, I watched my husband taking care of my mother this past week or two in the same manner of love and care that he did with those who have gone before. We do what we can while we have them.

The generations that have gone before us are God’s message to us that He provided for us. The generations that come after us are those to whome we have the chance to write on the tablets of their hearts His grace and mercy. And another small bit of wisdom I heard this week: the meaning of our life is to find our God-given gifts and the purpose of our life is to give those gifts away.

Final thoughts on names. You might remember my name when you meet me. But there is one name that is far more improtant to know. Proverbs 30:4 says, “Who has ascended into heaven, or descended? Who has gathered the wind in His fists? who has bound the waters in a garment? Whao has established all he ends of the earth? What is His name, and what is His Son’s name, if you know?” Jesus means “savior of the world” and He gave His life away so that we might know Him. Do you know His name?

Provocations

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Don’t take the bait! This is the best advice that I have ever had or given when it comes to provocations. Whether intensional or exceptional malevolent another’s actions or speech can often drive an emotional response that even surprises the respondent. And yes, unfortunately I have been on either end of the action or spoken misstep. Yet, afterwards it’s my own emotional anxiety that is the temperature gauge that tells me, I took the bait. How did I fail so miserably with this recent provocation.

Letting go of intended or unintended sins against my personhood is part of the constant “forgiveness” lifestyle. Because whether people know it or not, feelings are fickle things, and words often hurt more than they are ever meant too. Forgiving current happenings are often easier than putting back the old dry bones in long lost family closets. Yes, Great Grandma Millie, everyone has skeletons in the closets. It’s those old wounds that fester and turn into anger cesspools when the cisterns are not properly dealt with and dug up when there are least expected. Just when you thought the gravel pit had filled it all in, suddenly there is a leak in the storage tank that was still there. Bother, here we go again finding another painful memory to rehash.

While dealing with the wills and trusts and those left behind things of deceased parents, much has come to mind of the fair treatment or unfair treatment that each child receives. Of course each child probably always thinks that another has the “favorite” treatment.

From the book “Anne of Green Gables”. A quote from Marilla Cuthbert while discussing the bringing up of a girl to her brother Matthew, “I’ve never brought up a child, let alone a girl, and I reckon I’ll make a fine mess of it, but nevertheless I will try my best.” Indeed every parent has made a real fine mess of parenting I dare say.

Lots of flowers in the greenhouse but these two get my attention most. summer gardenia and yellow kalanchoe.

So I suppose it best to take the advice of the old minister, unless you are a parent yourself, don’t give parenting advice. And of course, I have one daughter in the woes and bliss of parenting and the other in the woes and bliss of people management. Two entirely different occupations but nonetheless difficulties of relationships that arise regularly upon which advice is sought.

Being the peacemaker in the family is not my strong suit, but yet being in the ministerial position of come to terms with the moment’s of life is part of what I feel God has tasked me with. Or rather, maybe, finding peace with the life that God has dealt to each of us. I often see people in their moment of difficulty grasping for the answere that is only answered by our Lord.

In the middle of the “chips ahoy” remake. Not sure I like it, but the fabric is so wonderful. It’s the dark nature of the color combination. So even after a remake, it’s not what I would choose. Gavin helped with the color sequence.

I remember distinctly when my father, with a tear rolling down his face, admitted he was having trouble being patient. The only answer that I could give him was Jesus. God is the supply of our every desperate cry. And so, too, now when my family has arrived at a conclusion that is unexpected, some of us must look to His aid in our time of need. Keeping the peace and not letting this moment become a wedge that drives us apart is the battle cry that I have taken up.

Disillusions realized can be quite disheartening. Every adult-child finds themselves at one point or another in the understanding that a parent they thought was invincible or perfect, has toppled from their pedestal. I remember when I first realized that adults could be untrustworthy. At the age of sixteen or so, I was sexually assaulted by an elderly church member. Perhaps this is telling too much. My father stood up for me a resolutely refused to attend the church ever again, if there were no disciplinary steps taken. The church did not remove the elder’s status. My father never went to that church again. He took the opinion that church was full of hypocritical child molesters from that point forward. And to my dismay, my mother continued to attend the church freely forgiving the person who so dismantled my innocence. I never told the rest of my siblings that this was part of the larger puzzle that helped my parent’s marriage fall apart.

I saw this happen. I did not blame myself. For our family had done many a winter puzzles. I knew it was just one piece. But I found that I had not fully comprehended the battle that was going on between the two until decades later. My dad felt that just as this man must of abused me, perhaps my mother’s “spiritual” loyalty was in fact adultery or some other sin. He could not understand her choice to attend the church of an elder whom had so abused his daughter. Of course we won’t discuss his own abuse to he children and wife, that was family and his “right” to treat them as he did.

A small note about family genetics here… My father received the retinal disease RP from his mother, and he in turn passed it on to three of six children. Some find the possibility of blindness absolutely frightening, while those of us with the reality see it as just another part of living. Being legally blind provides a chance to understand that is okay to ask for help, because it gives another to discover the gift of giving. While one may find it difficult to ask for help, a blind person must. This character change moves one from blindness to discernment and those who are honest and helpful rather than seeking a reward for their labor are discovered. Discernment in personal character is not just gifted to some individuals. This “seeing” of another’s motive is learned by trial and error. My dad learned to “see” through people in a way that many people never can. Blindness is not always blind!

So there. The truth or some of the truth has been spilled. Provocations whether purposeful or not happen. Emotions and natural responses happen in the heat of the moment. Decisions are made that ripple throughout the decades. Just like Sarai’s choice to give her servant girl to Abraham, generations pay for the sins of the fathers and mothers no matter if restitution is paid. Choices have consequences.

While this is the most abstract painting that I have ever written, I hope that it has not provoked someone to anger or revenge. I have no desire to take on more than what I am responsible for. We alone can control our own actions. It is not up to us to judge or decide what another’s appropriate or inappropriate actions ought to be. Always and ever the only person we can control is ourselves. And so now in the light of past actions that have been revealed, once again it is only my reaction and my response to this moment in time that I can control and prevent a ripple effect that does not create a tsunami of emotions from others.

I pray for our family that we never led the past of the present divide us. God wants families to stay together, to work together, to love on another and be His voice to the world. Satan wants to steal, kill and destroy and I will not let him get a foothold in our family during this unsettling time. We will not make decisions in the heat of this difficulty that change the outcome of our togetherness over the future decades. Choices have consequences. And I will not regret my actions. I choose to love, to forgive, and to keep peace in the family.

One of Those Days

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SUNDAY: Well, today is one of “those” days. I slept less than three hours last night. So now I am overtired and cranky. Decision making is very minimal. Lack of sleep really affects my eyesight. So this morning when we were preparing to leave the house for church, I found the bedroom door closed with my nose. Really?

Really?

We are trying to leave the little dog home more often with freedom of space and choice. And while he has grown up finally, it has only been about one month since the last full bladder accident. So rather than letting him have the whole house, shut the doors right?

And then, I decided that I needed a scarf to stay warm. My outfit was not complete. So I headed back to the bed room for the matching item. When I found the door with my nose, my initial responsive word was “dang-it-Really!”

MONDAY: Reality going blind sucks. Just over a week ago my grand-doggie found my eyebrow with the top of his head. He is one of those bouncy dogs that does not greet on a sit. His excitement puts a spring in his bottom and jack-in-the-box will spring at the most inopportune times for a blind lady. Going down to greet my little 15 pound Shih Tzu found the forty pound head with mine.

Really!

There are some adaptive learning curves that simply don’t work in practice. Being a very active and boisterous little girl, I have grown into a statuesque old lady. I really don’t enjoy the bodies requirement to be still just to save my other parts. My eyes simply do not work right anymore.

How do I manage to keep up with the change of pace? I know that lack of physical activity is what is driving my inability to sleep at night. Who wants to teach a bland lady how to work out and get tired enough to sleep?

Maybe I should put on a helmet and take up boxing.? That seems like a dumb idea when there are so many things jump out of nowehere to clobber me already.

Maybe I should take up running on a treadmill mill just to keep moving but who is gonna read all the options on the screen? Where is the speaking options on that equipment?

Maybe I could do palettes or something? but it requires being able to see and know what the directions are for each move and no one ever explains things well enough. Besides my mirrow image response is zilch because I do not see the actions to copy.

Okay. Really…

TUESDAY: Yesterday we both had bad visits at the dentist. Very rough hygienists that should probably have flunked his schooling. Anyways, decisin made to find a new dental clinic. And good news I slept for the first night with no sleep aid meds at all.

Today is a rough day. Another week will go by with no glasses on this nose because it hurts too much. My sinuses are already angry over the knock on the door. Scripture says, “Ask and it will be answered, Knock and it will be opened, Seek and you will find.” Well, I just think I’ve learned one should use the appropriate tools when asking, knocking or seeking. And sometimes we simply aren’t asking the right questions.

WEDNESDAY: Another night slept with no sleep aids. Unfortunately, my poor sister is taking up my lot in life. She is going through much stress in life in preparation to early retirement. Yep, going blind sucks. The rest of the family is doing well, I think. Haven’t talked to very many of them lately. It’s still a good day to take the back seat for a full rest as tomorrow is grandkid sitting day.

One of the Freyja patterns by Tinna T. Iceland mosaic crochet artist. I have learned alot about the craft from her.Thanks. Tinna!

THURSDAY: No mishaps. Just a quick story about hte kiddos. I sat with the littlest one while the others were at home school co-op day. It seems this social experience is a highlight for three of the momentary mommas. My sister, sister-in-law and my daughter all living this lifestyle of parenting 24-7. We do enjoy hearing about the learning curves in their lives. In other bits and pieces, I took the older two grandees with my short Kona walk in the afternoon. The oldest had to bring her binoculars to “look at nature.” The second child was wearing boots, shorts, a winter jacket and gloves. Hilarious picture!

Epilogue: Friday is here. I made it through the week with no more mishaps. Yet…. Doing more book study lists. Also finished the scarf above that I don’t like. I made a mistake on the first rom of the pattern beginning with the upside down heart. Oh, well. It was intended as a practice run. Today is supposed to be a greenhouse working day. I have not had coffee for three days, and this morning all it seems to do is make me sneeze. I did this to try sleeping well. It may have worked but I am still not sure. I have been doing some breathing exercises as I try to fall asleep and that has helped. Kona really needs his groom session. And what other random facts could I tell you? Still working on “The Complete Sherlock Holmes” stores. I thought of it after I learned Great-great-Grandma Chris and her name was Anna “AndersDitter” Holmes. Those Scandinavians surnames are odd. Our family history lessons are fun as we hunt for obituaries and places of residence. The “Bygones” of the past still have stories to tell!

Tranquil Roots

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Foreground stands the tree out of the old cherry tree root that was Great Grandpa’s tree. Then the flowering crab, followed by the autumn blaze Maple that was a birthday gift to me from mom and dad. The Old Mulberry tree that no longer produces stands just north of The Old Cottonwood Tree that is over 120 years old. There is some history in these roots for sure.

Free from the troubles and turmoil of this life, we watched the peaceful home going of our dear mom. Tranquil, sweet surrender was her state of patient endurance. Peace of mind soul and body became her full joy as we entered sorrow and grief. Yes, it was our Lord’s will that she should join her love of 65 years in eternal bliss.

How do you come to grips with the pit in your stomach and your heart in your throat? Every little thing brings tears to the surface. There is no peace on earth, you think. Then comes to mind another favorite saying of your loved one lost. And again, you think, she is not lost, we know where she is! Peace in this troubled time comes from all the generous love felt through all the times shared together. The memories are now our dearest treasures.

“These things I have told you, that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble but take heart for I have overcome the world.” These words of Christ from John 16:33 have been echoing through the halls of my mind for nearly two weeks now. Trouble and suffering is not a new thing here in life. What can be new in our lives, however, is the peace that we have Jesus knowing this world is not our final dwelling place. Knowing Jesus gives us so much hope and peace it is the power that overcomes the troubled times that we face.

Sitting with is hard to do. Just being present in the here and now. My little doggie is my best lesson on with. His little fifteen pound presence is with me all day long. He rarely wants to me anywhere else. How do I translate his satisfaction in with and complete dependence on me to the spiritual lesson “Depend On God?” At difficult times in life, sitting still becomes our oft hard challenge.

Resting and sleeping much, the body goes through such a physical change using all of it’s last resources in the final days of living. Watching this process is not easy. Some find it very troublesome to spend much time with the dying. Yet, we whose loved one belongs, find it hard to tear ourselves away. Living with no regrets is the mindset of each day’s decisions. We will miss mom so much. But we do not desire her to suffer any longer. She has waited long enough to go be with dad once again.

I could develop an ulcer just sitting here. The stress of not moving and watching the help have to move our dear one from one position to another. Walking has always been such a therapy for me. I do hope this weather turns around to warmer days, so that these legs can get some real stretching in. Memories of all the walks that we took together come flooding through all jumbled up and tumbling over one another.

Walking at Tulip festival with the two little girls of mine in the wagon. Walking through the crowd at some large church anniversary doings and mom introducing me to so many people that she knows. Walking behind the family at different passed memorial services. Walking into the drug store up town and watching her greet every person in the store. Walking through the mall as we shopped for clothes for the girls before music camp. Walking up the sidewalk at camp for the annual church group outing. Walking through the cemetery to the north of us and hearing all the stores of those gone before.

The last words that a loved one utters to us are so poignant. For my dad-in-law, it was “I’m not worried about tomorrow.” For my mom-in-law, it was her sleep talking that pulled forth her deep spirit of giving and her ever present inner positive self. She had a cookie to eat that was just too crunchy for the moment, and so the conversation turned to soft cooke favorites. Like molasses cookies I suggested. She said, “The ones with “pie spice in the recipe.” Yes, I said, I think you gave that recipe to my daughter. “I will make you some tomorrow.” She stated and then fell asleep. Always giving, always generous, always thinking about others was her generous spirit.

And then there was the sleep talking words…. The phrase “It turned out to be a pretty nice day” seems so totally unfitting for one to utter on the day she takes her last car ride. Yet that was such a common phrase of mom’s weather permitting there would be some sunshine, she would always say that even if it was a particularly bad day. If the sun would shine for just a little while, it had turned out to be a pretty nice day. The day of the memorial service the weather finally relented of its below zero chill and that was the phrase that came to my mind as I got into the pickup after the earth planting service. The thought also went through my mind of all the trees they had given to us and all the roots that they had given us.

Indeed parents and family, genealogy and heritage are truly the roots that make giant trees. And in our lives mom and dad are the ones who have given us roots so deep that even the their eternal home going cannot uproot the spiritual lessons that make us stand strong together.

Psalm 1: 3, “He shall be like a tree Planted by the rivers of water, That brings forth its fruit in its season, Whose leaf also shall not wither, And whatever he does shall prosper.” Blessed are the children whose parents give them deep and lasting roots that feed their heart, soul and mind even after they have gone, the fruits of their parents labor of love shall be evident even into the next generation. Thanks mom and dad for teaching us the truth that only Living Water is found in Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.

His Story In Me

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It is truly the coldest day of the year. Today the wind chill has the feel like at nearly -30 degrees Fahrenheit. That is what we call bone chilling for sure. Yesterday was also National Cover all exposed skin day. So I spent the day doing some video exploring of abandoned homes.

My first thought process was about finding homes that looked built in the early 1900’s so I could do some imagining of our next door house. Then it soon got a little extravagant and finding mega-mansions of the debt-fully deceased. Bank ceased homes can be tied up in so much back logue that they often sit untouched for decades.

The Bible verse that came to mind was Matthew 6:19-21 and ends with “where your treasure is there your heart will be also.” The verse came to mind when I say a double painting of two brides. One was the mother and the other the daughter in the same dress. And later upstairs in a cedar chest was the very same dress. Value in things is all subjective. Each person has their own set of dreams and circumstances that lead them to place high value in some earthly thing. I think that the reason that it hit me so hard is my own wedding dress story.

My grandmother had several such saved event garments. One was her own. One was her mother-in-law’s dress. And yet another was her own mother’s muslin dress. For some reason the hand sewn muslim dress of my maternal great grandmother was the dress that appealed to me most. So I asked if I could wear it.

The prairie blanket flower is a biennial bloomer that sends it’s seeds forth in a blanket through the winds. It will blanket the prairie in a short span of years with it’s blooms from early spring through late fall. I ‘m so excited for it’s hopeful little green plant shoots!

I did. I wore it on my wedding day. Complete with under garments purchased just for the occasion to save any oils from getting on the fabric. Then like an idiot, I actually packaged the gown back up and sent it back to my aunt. Why? I should have risked years of anger and resentment and kept the dress.

Now, in my hope chest lies the lace gown of my grandmother’s mom-in-law. It would need a fully prepared undergarment / slip to even be worn. Such under garment became a daily use wear item and does not exist of remain. So I have a dress that I did not wear in my hope chest and what ever should I do with all that hand made lace?

It is not my treasure, but someone else’s.

How is this all a part of God’s story in my life? How do I make sense of the ridiculous twist of “fate?” My sister took the hope chest that all of these items were once in. And now I had to clean out my cedar chest to make room for the family lace.

My birth story is the cause of my mother’s salvation story. The details are not to difficult to understand as I was in the womb “placenta Previa.” This means that the umbilical cord was attached above the placenta and that it would exit the womb first. After birth is suppose to come after the birth. When the doctors rushed my mother off to cesarean birth surgery they had no promises that either my mother or her baby would live. Well, obviously we lived.

My mother had her own Near Death Experience that day and knew that she was headed to hell. She knew that her life did not measure up to God’s kingdom. Later, she would learn that accepting Jesus as Savior for her sins and repentance was all she needed. Her whole life course had been rechartered with this premature baby’s birth.

And so the afghan blanket continues to be draped across my lap this cold month. It began as a leftover yarn project and we bought some full color skeins so that I could do a blanket during this cold weather season.

Life over the next few years would not be easy. She continued to have major life health complications from the blood transfusions, an appendicitis bout, and fainting spells. It took nearly six years for her to recover health, and thus become pregnant once again.

And it would be another seven years for me to comprehend all that god had done in sparing my mother’s life and giving me the ultimate choice in life as well. Would I also learn that God has a special plan for my life and His purpose for me?

What is my story of meeting Jesus? I began to comprehend the choice for sin or God’s way as a new teenager. Receiving a baseball bat, glove, and ball at the age of 13 from my dad and brother seemed to seal my disdain for the chauvinism of that sex. As a female, and trying so hard to copy my sisters, receiving such a gift actually also sealed my disdain for the sport. I have always “heckled” baseball players, the sport and any other related things to baseball. (It does no help that when my family was in the twin cities to go to the ball game, I was sick with pneumonia and did not attend. That also turned me against the sport.) And needless to say it helped to solidify the “left out” feelings of the third child, middle child character flaws / traits.

How do such small things stick so soundly in the mind as catapults to which fork in the road one takes in life? The path that i followed was piano and music. Even though it was not the full pursuit of my life, it is still a much loved fulfillment of who God has shaped me to be.

Recently my mother in her stroke mind lost her hat after our visit to her apartment. The lost item was under a couple of other items. She did find it later, but the story of the Good Shepard seeking his lost sheep came to her mind after finding it. She knew that God cares more about the lost souls at the care center were of much more importance than her lost hat, and yet she also knew that God cared deeply about both. So she took the time to tell the care giver about her her lost soul and near death experience some fifty years ago.

The little silver quid plant continues to multiply. I really out to give more of these away. Or set up a tray for multiplications for the spring green house sales. My list of propagations is getting longer!

Emmanuel God with us can be hard to see sometimes. Knowing that God was there in the spring of my life and seeing His handiwork during the midst of difficult years is truly a faith phenomenon. I wrote a song once called “Seasons” and it proclaims the omnipresence of God through the times in one’s life. I wrote it about my grandmother, but it applies to each person to who the Spirit breaths into the breath of life.

Throughout my life “being heard” has been a consistent theme of the Father’s touch in my life also. That might be for a whole other writing. Sometimes however I simply attribute my short status to the fact that while we were at the family meal time I was so busy talking and entertaining that I did not get as much to eat as everyone else. Getting some sort of attention even if it be through laughter and story telling was very important to me. Today, maybe I am still trying to do that very thing.

Yet I try hard to realize that whether earthly beings reckon to m presence is less important than if the souls that I encounter in life hear God speaking in their life. What story is God working through you? Are you aware that a Sovereign One is ruling over all the circumstances of your life?

What story is being told in your life and through your family happenings? Is God trying to get your attention? Or are you trying to gain His attention? History begins with His Story. And this is just a little corner of the painting of my life.

YOUniquely You

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Journal # 285 and over 10K words total is proof that my mother use to always call me a little “wordy!” Here goes for this Monday’s entry. And a deeper dive into what makes me and the things that I say “uniquely me.”

Today is Easter Monday. (I was also pleased that one of the local schools called the day off this on their calendar schedule also.). When I was a child we used to get the day off from school. Super handy for getting that long distance shopping day in or recovering from some spring cough or allergy to rainy season. But spending the day in bed was not part of my schedule. I woke up with the hidden sunrise and heard the raindrops hitting the roof. At least the grass seed that we put out will have a chance to germinate with the moisture.

One of the earliest “quotes” that my parents remind me of is the Sunday that I went to church and boldly proclaimed “Our Daddy left us!” My mother was attending a staunchly German Baptist church at the time with her three little girls. The pews were set up so that no woman ever sat by a man who was not her husband. This statement surely embarrassed both her and any other ears that heard. My dad was gone on an Elk hunt with some very men from the community. He had only left for a two week time frame. What on earth did those stiff upper class folks think of this family of three little girls with such a “man’s man” father?

Today the turkey carcas is in the crock pot smelling the whole house up. We had the meat for the Sunday gathering meal. So today it’s time to cook up the bone broth. I really don’t like slow cooker Monday. It kind of ruins my appetite for eating supper. Smelling the scent all day long does that for me.

Snow holidays are usualy Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, and Valentine’s Day. But ever since we lived in Minnesota for a few years, I am no longer disappointed with Easter Sno. It snowed all four years that we spent Easter up there. When Easter falls in March or early April, one can expect colder weather in this northern hemisphere.

With pleasure a couple of memories came flooding back into my mind today. The turkey smell made me think of how many times my aunt and her sister’s actually killed and roasted a wild turkey for our family Thanksgiving or Christmas gathering. My auntie was such a good cook. And the other memory is of my Grandfather expecting the home health nurse to help him clean the turkey before she could take care of Grandma. Only in western South Dakota would the home health care worker need to know how to clean and dress a turkey along with an elderly fragile person’s care..

I am listening to the Rich Mullins “devotional-biography” that I found on my audible listening app. The first question that was posed to me is: What Makes Me Uniquely Me? Of course the answer is our genes, our lineage, our unique set of circumstances and upbringing. Here I will attempt to answer that question throughout these journal writings.

Moving things around in the greenhouse does not seem necessary when the sun is not shining. But rotating the geraniums is key to a well rounded plant. It is so fun to see all the blooms showing up. I am super happy that some of the two-tone varieties actually rooted up this year. The single colors make wonderful long distant displays from the road, but the bicolor blooms are great table top or stair case plants. Just like each plant is unique in it’s own way, so are we one of a kind. Indeed all of life’s moving our family around when I was a child and as an adult played a part in shaping me. Making me relatable and flexible to each and every church community that I participated in.

Hubby finally sold the junk car this week. It’s been sitting idle for two or more years. Last use was my daughter’s bum car so she could get back and forth to work in bad weather. I am glad to see it go. With only one driver on the farm here, it seemed silly to hang unto it just because… for what? I don’t need a car to drive, because I no longer drive.

This week the little petunias have to get potted up. But it’s so cold down in the greenhouse for working with 50 degree soil. Okay maybe it’s warmer than that but at 55 degrees my hands just get too cold. Hopefully they can make it until Wednesday when the sun is shining.

I know that I am the only ME that there will ever be. Thinking about the special touch of the Creator on my life is key to not blaming my genetic line for all of my “faults” and letting God be sovereign in my life. From letting go of a car I cannot drive, to preparing the greenhouse to be watched over by someone else all plays into my acceptance of who I am today. Sunday morning when I was blessed to play the Easter church service prelude, I found myself truly worshiping God while I played the piano. My three days of practice had payed off and I could give my best to the Master Creator who had made me ME. No longer able to read the music, I had to study it prior to pounding out the chord progressions and then figure out how to move from one to the next with no music in front of me at all. All of my life challenges and struggles had come to that point for me. And I truly did have fun making playing the piano like child’s play.

And YOU are the only you that there will ever be. What about your family heritage made your Easter especially special this year? What about your struggles and challenges makes you a better you than you were many years ago? What about today speaks to your unique time and place and shows you that God’s hand has been there all along leading you up to this day?

It’s Hard To See The Picture When You’re Standing So Close

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We watched a movie about the VonTrap Family a few weeks ago and the main character said this quote above to her young niece. Indeed it seems to sum up all the happenings of the last few weeks. I have tried to write little “snippets” of things over this time frame and nothing seems to flow. Keeping the thoughts relevant to a particular theme for the writing has been hard with only a little moment or two to write.

This morning my mother’s distraction while on the phone definitely attested to her recent mild stroke symptoms. I called her in the middle of her thought process with another sibling, the other phone rang, and the support person there at the house had to take her dog out. Too much all at once and my mother set me down-the phone she was holding the call on. After five minutes of listening, I just hung up. She was not going to remember me at the moment. Ten minutes later, delayed response, she called me back to hear what it was I had called about. Short term memory lapse is sometimes funny. Most of the time just annoying.

So rather than letting my writing be all chopped up and from several different sit-down-type-sessions, I decided to start all over and drop the disrated writing attempts. I didn’t want everyone to feel like they were on a video chat with my daughter, mother of four little ones. Children don’t let mommy get anything done in straight order. Five minute intervals are all one get before someone is crying or needs a discipline action.

My ability to crochet a project has taken a nose dive also. I tried to do some mosaic crochet stitch sampler only to run out of one of the yarns that I was using as a base color. I miss crochet. It is someone of an anti-fret-not-knots for me. So I looked up some of the fret not sayings and studied the meanin. Fret means to work oneself up into anger enough to do damage. Fret not means to let go of the thing “bothering” oneself into a worked up mess. A “fret knot” on the instrument is a way of tying the wire (that is used for resonating sound) so as to allow the wire to accept the tension of plucking to make a pleason sound. My children played stringed instruments so I know the importance of the fret board or the “pegs.” Little kids see those frets and just want to turn the “buttons” instead of leaving them alone. We are all like little kids in that respect, We want to twist up the tension until things break.

How can I take this lesson to heart? How can I truly “fret not” over the future that is in store for me, or others? Especially right now… while I worry about my mother’s recent stroke or any of my other family and their prayer needs. My natural release has always been to crochet. And making the fret knots with my hook usually helps. Until now when my mind is so worried I can’t come up with a project that I am happy with. Like the peg or fret I must find a way to anchor myself in the Lord’s promise that He will hlep me make a beautiful sound when the tension arises.

The other fret not activity for me is my gardening or greenhouse. I have found with Kona that I am not spending the hours of consecutive working in the greenhouse like I use too. And so far taking him with has not worked well. He wants to pick things up that he should not chew on and therefore “ruins” the peace of my sanctuary in the garden dome structure. One day maybe we’ll get this figured out. When he does not behave, I just bring him back to the house and put him in the crate. Someday he’ll learn to be with me is enough. Every dog is a bit of a snoopy during their early years.

And meanwhile all this happenings of disabling busy worrying, my heart has rested on a couple of verses for spiritual food. Psalm 37:7-8 “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him…Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.”

The bigger picture is only seen by the Lord. Right now I am living is the little tiny corner of the painting and I have no clue what else is on the canvas. I am standing so close to the thing, only hindsight will show me the rest of the true view. Because my eyesight often puts this exact phenomenon into play for me, I understand the quote readily. My tunnel vision works that way. When I look at a hymn I have to be close enough to see the note on the line or between the line, only to loose sight of the rest of the stanza. Therefore beign too close to get the full view of the hymns melody.

Two different analogies but very relatable to me with my failing eyesight. The painting or the hymn is best viewed or heard in it’s entirety. We don’t always have that luxury. For now I will simply have to wait on the Lord.