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.
Our family has said goodbye to the patriarch. A little over a month ago an accident happened that set up a series of events that led to the loss of my husband’s dear father. The one statement that was repeated most frequently by all in attendance of our losss was that “he was the most wonderful man that I ever did know.” This was often in comparison to a grandfather, or other such memorable figure in the speaker’s life. Such a great cloud of witnesses one never knows within the confines of this life. It is only in death that the knowledge of true character is revealed.
Our loss is heart wrenching, but our hope is ever present. We all cannot imagine facing such heart break without the hope of eternal life. It is that very faith that lifts us up out of the tears of grief into the Savior’s blessed words, “Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”’
Praying Jesus over life and death is something not necessarily new to me. However, being so close to the eternal gates with a loved one made me more aware than ever of the spiritual battle for the souls of mankind. I was so blessed to pray with my father-in-law twice during the last few days of his life. Asking Jesus to be present during the painful moments of stepping from this life to the next was a priviledge that I do not take lightly.
Holding what is dear until we are asked to let go is not easy. Yet during this hard transition it is Jesus whom we hold most dear. Our Lord is the truth that carries us through the difficulty of letting go of the present age. Praise God that He is truly the author and finisher of our lives.
Breathing eternal hope in thermos of our deepest pain is the true test of our faith. It is during this deep suffering that we identify with Christ who suffered for our sakes. Once I heard the Lord’s name “Yahweh” described as a breathing word. Yah is spoken on the intake of breath, and Weh is whespered as the breath is expelled. This is such a powerful expression of the Giver and Taker of life. The one who breathed the breath of life into the first created human being is the one who gives each person the first breath of air when born. And the Alpha dn the Omega, the beginning and the end, is also the One whose name we are to whisper in our final death.
Asking for what can’t be given is still okay to ask. “Ask and you shall recieve” does not always mean that we are given exactly what we have asked for. Perhaps “No” s the perfect answer for our humble need. I still find it hard to comprehend the painful examples of so many millions of children not receiving what they needed in life. Dieing of hunger, thirst or extreme abuse at the mercy of life’s atrocious suffering. I cannot reconcile this torture in my mind. yet I must accept that asking for what cannot be given is still okay to ask.
Each one’s loss is worthy of grief. Whether that loss is a wife with memory loss, a child with cancer, untimely deafness, or an auto immune illness that redirects our life. Grief comes in many different waves of the many different oceans of experience. Each person grieves individually. No one mourns loss the same way. Identifying with another’s pain can be difficult. One’s loss of spouse at early age is different than the death of a spouse of longevity. Blindness at age two is different than blindness at age 72. Deafness at birth is different that deafness at age 50. Yet each one’s grief is still valid and needs the comfort of shared loss.
Psalm 61:5 says “For You, O God, have given me the heritage of those who fear Your name.” Indeed the heritage of one who fears the Lord is the best inheritance one could ever ask for. Gratefulness is overwhelming the grief. There is no thought for the morrow like that of hoping one’s children’s children serve Christ Jesus as Lord. This prayer is worth knocking upon the door of the Great God of the ages to open His door of eternal blessings.
Hard to be happy but easy to be glad. Yes, I said that right. It is hard to be happy that someone get’s to go to heaven before us. Yet we must wait our turn. For the Almighty calls who He chooses. So it is easy to be glad in Jesus knowing that our turn will one day come for eternity’s gates to be opened and we too will be ushered into glory with overwhelming welcome and joy.
Listening skills are important when sitting with the grief stricken. “But I keep thinking of things to tell him.” It seems there is never enough. Quiet time has new meaning. In the house of mourning there may still be laughter yet. When mom says that she just wants to be with dad, I responded with “I won’t take it personally.” My company was not disdained or undesired, it just was an expressed preference. Yes, mom, I won’t take it personally that Jesus is a more desirable presence. I just hope that in some small wayI can be the presence of His Holiness during this time of grieving.
The outt pouring of love towards our dear ones during this mourning period is sometimes overwhelming. To hear from an old Sunday School student from nearly forty years ago about how much dad shaped his life walk with Jesus is almost unbelievable. Yet this is what it means to be good and faithful all of one’s life. My cup runners over. That is the best way to describe the comfort that is being sent forth, even as the empty chair sits empty. Even as the heart break fills so very empty, The Holy Spirit indeed is comforting in every prayer sent Heavenward for this dear family of mine as we count the blessings for knowing this good and faithful servant.
Some people live for food. No really, they think about the next meal before they are even done with the one they are eating. Meals, food and delicatessens are what drives them from hour to hour. My dad used to say of a particular relative, “They travel on the stomachs: Visiting all kinds of national monuments and beautiful places it is some simple pizza joint that they remember most and talk about with excitement.
Some people eat just to stay alive. I am in that category. I could work for hours in the greenhouse and totally forget meals and such. I could crochet for hours if I did not drink so much that I am driven to the bathroom. I don’t enjoy watching telvesion shows or videos about cooking. On the other hand it was my three year old daughter that grumbled about me rushing her meal and said, “Can’t I savor my food?”
Mealtime for me has always been about the conversation and togetherness. Even as a child I was always the last one at the table. I told everyone with such a captive audience, I thought every dinner was a theatre. Mealtime was entertainment 101 for me. What jokes and witty comments would incite laughter and or anger? I learned that my siblings had buttons that could be pushed and I learned what would and would not be tolerated by my parents.
What was it like to have a formal dining room and an appendix dinette? The kitchen was my mother’s domain. My dad was only in their on rare occasions. The dinette was the daily use eating zone. Nothing like the kitchens of today that have “homework” stations for the kids while mom or dad cooks the meal. And the formal dining room was used only for company. This was where I sat and did homework once in awhile, otherwise homework was done in my own space of my bedroom with it’s little desk and chair.
I often think of the kitchen and dinette as after thoughts in old houses. Of course back in the day of wood cook stoves, the heat made it important to keep the heat out of the rest of the house during summer. We had moved from a house with an addition of a large kitchen where the table was part of the room. The change was a poor one for our family. I think the “appendix” in the new house made it part of the reason my parents marriage collapsed.
Of course, it does not help that I had left for college and the communication between my mom and dad was already pretty bad. Then after my spring illness of appendicitis, that’s when things got really bad. I returned home to see that my mom was barely keeping up with this abandonment. And my dad was unwilling to make any changes.
My appendix had been surgically removed. The room that we had grown up eating it was now just a vague dry hopeless place where my mother and the three children left no longer ate with my dad. His silence on weekends, mealtimes and presence in the home was only occasionally interupted by bouts of angry outbursts. I tried to stand up for the others. But it was too late for intervention. The surgical procedure of the “heart” of the home had already been done by his constant belittling and badgering. Like a battering ram on the love that my mother was trying to give, the destruction was complete.
Friends were few and far between. What else was there to do? I felt my mother needed an ultimatum. Now that thirty some years have passed since the divorce of my parents. It’s clear that my mother was the glue and the love that drew us all together. My father’s eightieth birthday managed to gather some of us around him for a party. But his continued unbelief and faithless thought process towards our mother have pushed most of us away.
My dad’s 85th birthday was spent in unremarkable normalcy. On the other hand I watch the happenings of my in-laws through the years and the family grows and also finds itself distanced by all the extended happenings. Yet when dad needed a pep rally in the nursing home to keep him out of the “failure to thrive” annals, we all came together to make an attempt at cheerfulness.
All these things are going on simultaneously. Life falls apart, life moves on and little lives are being brought forth into the new world. Lives struggle with health. Lives learn new things. Lives march into the next unknown. And we still get disappointed when our expectations are not met by others. We still disappoint ourselves when we react inappropriately. We still are unable to change another person’s will. Whether we love and live in hopefulness does matter, doesn’t it?
This past weekend the roller coaster of emotions brought me back to the song above that I found a week or two ago. The old version is rather unknown. And this composition also is not highly memorable. Yet all of life’s emotions, feelings, wishes, wants and needs are nothing apart from being “In Jesus.”
I finished my book from Mother Theresa, but the wisdom it contained will continue to speak Jesus into my life and others. I had the chance to speak to my father in law in a moment of lucidity one evening. I told him about the book I was reading and how “thinking about the pain and suffering of Jesus when we have pain and suffering” can help us in our pain. It is because Jesus suffered for us, that we can endure. I don’t know how much of it helped. He told me he was “not worried about tomorrow.” So maybe it did help some.
All of us need the blessed assurance that if we confess Jesus over our pain, over our trials, over our emotions, over our family then God will intervene in the way that He chooses. We have to be okay with that.
So life continues on and IN JESUS I will try not to take things into my own hands. Only God knows what the appendix’s purpose really is. We have lost past family members in the early 1900’s from an appendix rupture. My brother in law has suffered from years from the effects of the the rupture toxicity. My appendix was removed and left me with ITP for over a decade and then another surgery, splenectomy.
There are organs in the body that can be lived without. And some that once damaged will lead to death. When a family looses it’s dinette of bustling conversations and playful bantering over the mealtime… well, I see over the years the family just drifts away from each other and soon learns to live without the spleen, without the appendix, without the arm that once fed it and kept it so vital. New families emerge and must learn not to make the same mistakes.
Living a life IN JESUS is more important now than ever before.
Today’s hymn study is “At the Cross” by Isaac Watts. Some one such as I could have no idea what it means to grasp the Cross as the only hope in this life. Yet I must embrace this one and only Hope for it is the only way to remove the burden that weighs down my heart for those whom I love and perhaps NOW I can be happy all the day for Christ truly is the only true weight lifter in this life I live.
Coping with going blind often has its challenges that lead me to have nightmares that I do not understand. Sometimes having to be a statue in the midst of the moving storm about me is the best option for navigating the day. Like the recent Christmas during the summertime. The constant ebb and flow of the people that are there often lead to to feeling much like a log jam on the river as it heads to the sawmill!
Preparing for life changes has led me to learning how to “give up” things that drain my energy. Being the sit still person in the crowd use to make me feel like I was alone in the crowd. There are moments when I feel perhaps the Lord is rather teaching me how to be the lighthouse on the rocks for others. A person to come to who will listen and empathize and give the Hope of Jesus into their lives.
Then there is night. Where I have this recurring dream. One in which I am standing amidst a pile of logs that need to be stacked. Organized into size appropriate piles. Stacked neatly and ready for use. I feel lost. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like the whole lot will crash about me once again and I will never escape the never ending pile. No matter which way I turn the logs are all in a jam.
Psalm 61 is a prayer from the depths of the pit. So is Psalm 42. But today all I can thing is “How long? O God? How long?” My very soul is weary and sad. I am utterly disheartened and lost.
Depresson is settling in again. The nightmares about stacking logs of all various kinds and sizes have returned. Along with the constant over riding feeling of anger at everything. The headaches are back. The sleepless nights. The old enemies are here to ruin me.
Trying to do anything is like working with an elephant on my chest, a bear on my back, an alligator in my brain, and a Tasmanian Devil running circles about me and a hyena laughing constantly in my ear. The high pitch whistle of the dryer does not help any of these things.
Kona is just a week away from being one year old. His therapeutic nature is thriving. He is becoming such a good boy!
My dogs did not make me happy. They became more and more work. And they wake me up out of my sleep just when I finally get some. They bark at nothing just to irritate me. Charlie does not make me smile when he refuses to even come when called. Honey rolled in so much awful stench this previous month that we shaved her to nothing and then I didn’t even want to look at her. Skinny doodle is not pleasing to my eyes at all. (Well she is gone now.) Kona has decided to keep getting into things just to get bad attention and then never gets any good play time. *note the whole dynamic of my household is much calmer without a hyper golden doodle. Resolve that we will never have a hybrid man made disaster dog again. And so I decided to re-home Kona. Only to realize that it was Honey that had to go.
Life feels so hopeless right now. Food is not even fun anymore. It is so much work to cook when the eyesight is not there for the recipes. I get so dizzy that the turning around in circles is awful.
Becoming… use to be about someone’s beauty…. We would say “oh, she is so becoming!” Well, there are days looking in the mirror is avoided. I don’t find myself so very becoming. Especially when…
Becoming blind…
My two grand daughter’s becoming good little artist at their activity table.
Going to my daughter’s to help only lends to making me feel more helpless than ever. The meal prep is impossible for me to help. The house is so kid cluttered that it is a nightmare for a blind person. All of her chairs are so uncomfortable for me that it does no good to go to the chiropractor just to have my tailbone go out by the end of the day. My enjoyment in going to “watch” kiddos is hampered by the fact that the house is so dark I rarely can really “see” them anyways.
God, how long? Do I have to keep trying to do what fails and does not bring me joy? How long do I have to keep pretending that happiness is something that can be grasped. My life feels like a grasping after the wind. My hands want to hold water that satisfies and my cup is empty.
Must the nightmares go on? I am standing within a stack of logs that need to fed into the stove. Some of them are the wrong size and only let the stove billow out smoke while I try to push the logs into it. Some of the pieces can be pulled out and rearranged to fit properly. But many of them are ashen and on fire themselves. I sweat and scream as I try to desperately get the logs back into the hot stove. My eyes are burning with sweat and tears. My lungs are burning from the smoke. Soon my lack of air makes me pass out and my empty cries wake me up to the “real world” where I am still going blind. Still can’t find my way out of the stack of logs and still can’t figure out which way is the bathroom without using my hands to tell me where I am.
How long O God?
Must the nightmares go on? I am standing in a long narrow hallway where there are log stacks on either side of me. Somewhere near both ends the wall of logs has fallen. I am desperately trying to put the stack back so that it will remain upright. Suddenly I see my family in the chasm below and while I stand with one leg on either side of the pile of logs, they begin to fall. I begin to fall. I scream at them to get out of the falling timbers and begin crashing to the ground. The logs are hitting me everywhere. My head, my back, my arms and legs are getting pinned by the logs. I am screaming and still falling. Suddenly I wake in pool of sweat and try to find the bathroom nightlight. It has moved again out of my line of view and I panic as I try to put it into my eyesight.
How long O God?
Until my eyesight closes in and what will be the last thing that my eyes will make out for my memory to see? Why must I have such a vivid imagination and the nightmares keep me up at night?
MONDAY MORNING
This morning I am pulling the log out of my own eye. Yesterday I experienced something emotionally that made me feel literally sick to my stomach. I will try to tell the story as briefly as possible.
While I was away and at church with my mother and sister’s family, I had asked a neighbor to care for my puppy. I forgot that perhaps my daughter would have been available. It probably would have been all avoided otherwise. And of course this neighbor had an eventful day in an of her own. Meanwhile, she and a friend did come over and proceed to help themselves to some of the plants in the greenhouse. All good I had said they could. When I realized however that the beautiful propegation “mother” plants in the clay pots had been removed. I began, my emotional being was scarred. First experience for me was trying to figure out how to handle this. And then I began to recall all the things that my mother has been through this past month. Especially her wondering where something was that we had removed from her house. My remorse and full emotional impact of evertyhing that has occurred flooded through my mind.
Doily on left made by my mother’s Aunt Gertrude. Two of the many white milk glass dishes. The china “ash tray” that was in my mother’s grandma‘s collection.
My mother’s sense of abandonment, her feelings that some are treating her roughly, and her confusion about why they won’t let her have her things if she wants them. Most people do not understand the work involved in propagation of pelargoniums or geraniums. It is a long wintering project of mine that gives me something to do and to get out of my lazy crochet chair. The value of the plants to me is more than five of ten dollars. Let alone a mother plant that has been in the same giant clay pot (which itself is spendy). The whole weight of my mother’s heart seemed pressed upon me and they care of her emotional well being was heavy upon my own heart.
While my mother had some strokes and lost some short term memory connections for cooking and feeding herself meals, the long term memory about things and even the family genealogy and history is very strong. And she still knows the heart of her children sometimes better than they know themselves.
How can I express to my siblings that she knows who has disrespected her life work. She knows who honors the value of each item that she worked hard for all of those years. She was a lowly bank teller, and budgeted for her every spending penny. These were her things and she has the right to them all. Anyone who thinks that “out of sight” is “out of mind” on the elderly is fooling themselves. Long term care is often for those whose long term memory is still quite vivid.
And it’s time for a fruits of the Spirit checkup. While I am becoming more and more like my parents as I grow older. The real question is -Am I becoming like Christ?
Love… sitting at the table with my older sister we made the conclusion that our marriages are truly based on love. There is no score keeping or reward system. We do for each other (our spouses and selves) what we can out of LOVE. Joy can be found if you pick up the rocks that are often in the way. Sometimes the joy is found under the the toughest search. But if we lift up the leaves on the bushes, the berries are there. Peace often eludes me for sleep. But sometimes a night without air in the airbed reminds you just how peaceful and comfortable your own bed is. When patience is no longer part of how we handle the over flowing cup of life, it’s time to step back empty out the “busy” and take more time for Jesus one on one time. Gentleness can return to our normal conversation language when we fill up with the right stuff! Goodness is all around us. Even when the physical buildings and bodies we watch are crumbling down, it’s the indwelling Spirit that shines forth. Faithfulness is so hard to grasp when life seems to close down on me with all of it’s ugliness and suffering. But God is ever faithful and supplies all of our needs in Christ Jesus. Meekness is not something anyone knows thses days. I pray that God will allow me to use the wisdom and insights that He gives me with meekness that empowers others to Hope in Jesus also. Self control is lost among all of the bitterness and strife that people through away at each other’s feet. If only we can hold our tongues when those edges creep in and learn to hand our trials over to the Savior instead of lashing out at other’s like the venomous being that so easily deceives.
Lord, Help me to do more things in my life by heart… like playing the piano by heart. When it feels so natural to grab some lady by the hand in the nursing facility and say, “Come let’s play piano together.” And it is so natural to play piano by heart. Loving, talking, and showing Jesus to others by heart. Let it become natural for me to share my insights and the reason for the hope that lies within me.
One day while sitting in my daughter’s house, the familiar acid smell of finger nail polish bathed the room. She was helping her six year old paint her nails. The importance of a piece of paper under the targeted objects was disgusted. The conclusion that boys don’t paint their nails was also made. And the consideration that patience is a learned virtue also focused her little mind on waiting for the polish to dry. Suddenly back to seven year old mind came the reality of green finger nail polish. What ever did my sisters prophecy such a thing over me for? Why did I want green thumbs back then?
Now, I think it quite hilarious that every one is always saying “She has such a green thumb!” Really? Somethings that I grow do die without my knowing why. I just have learned what I can grow and what doesn’t like my constant attention.
My experiment above turned out okay. I put gladiolus corms in the center of each of the creamers this spring and then added the few petunia plants that grew. That was the end of my 2021 seed collection from my own plants. The glads are stronger in full sunlight than they were inside the greenhouse. And they aren’t as tall either.
This summer seems like the year to say goodbye to yet another one of the things that I love to do. In 2007 I quit playing for choir at church and had to give up children’s week night Bible club. I had a counselor tell me once that I should not use the word quit as if it were some addiction that I was leaving behind. How else do you say that the abilities you once had are being taken from you? The garden is becoming less and less enjoyable.I may have to quit.
Books this month… “Pilgrim’s Progress” by John Bunyan, “Don’t Waste Your Life” by John Piper and a dive into Genesis once again at night. Searching “NDE” to see if anyone even gets it right has also been a pass time of mine. John Piper is reminding me about the creativity of the Creator. Once again I look for life’s meaning as I sit most days just crocheting. So much of what I look for seems to elude me and trip me up these days. Today alone the wagon for my water jugs found my shin bone three times. Prayer Battles and other time consumption seem pointless most days.
A Flood of Emotions left an impact on my thought process for the month and I am looking forward to another month of bug bites, hot weather and some family gatherings to come. The neighboring state is pulling out all of the basement carpets and I decided trying to replace mine is not good timing.
How do I display the Glory of God in my current eyesight failings? When do I show the cross of Christ in who I am? I have never really considered my eyesight loss as my “cross to bear.” Being glad in God feels difficult as God gives me more things to run into and takes away more of my field of vision so that I run into half open doors. How do I learn to say God gives and God takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord.
A River of Tears was not stopped up in some jar or bottle. There were so many boxes of glass objects I gave up going through them all for a third time. I do enjoy the vases and pitchers so I put some of those out to display. We all have our own “Ebenezer Stones” to remember things by, so it’s rather difficult to take up another persons collection as our own.
Thunderous Frustrations are no longer part of my every day living as Honey gone now for three weeks no longer drives my day crazy. Her high energy was just never my pace. I hated feeling like my cup of tea was constantly spilling over. Kona is so peaceful. Charlie hardly ever barks that much anymore because no one is answering him!
Empty Love Tanks are hard to fill and finding the right way to pour goodness into others sometimes fails me. How do I forgive before the offense has even been committed? My next book is “Forgiving what you can’t Forget” understanding how to live life under the “Lord’s Prayer” as a mandate.
Showers of Blessings keep coming our way and it’s up to me to ask God to open my eeys that I might see them. It is raining again today but not 12 inches or anything. We only received about five in the recent flooding weather last week. I am thankful to be no where close to a flood zone!
I am also going thru this really old hymn devotional found I my mom’s piano book stash.
Proverbs 17:1 “Better is a dry morsel with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting with anguish and strife.”
Surrender. A word one often associates with unique circumstances. Surrender your will. Surrender your hopes and dreams. Surrender your dog. Something I never thought that I would do.
The past month my life felt like anguish and strife constantly. Peace had so far eluded me that even night time was a battle for sleep. It took me over six weeks to discover the true problem.
The source of strife can be so elusive sometimes. She wanders away just when you think peace and enjoyment is about to be yours, strife strikes once again. The amount of strength and energy that it requires to strive after this constant battle is exhausting.
About a month ago, our Honey Doodle started to be bored and listless. She took the energy out of me just looking at her. Finally on Saturday morning the rope snapped. She had left me to do my watering and ran off to roll in something dead once again. My energy level was already zapped by allergies and asthma from the morning dew. I had just finished a phone call with my daughter. In my duty I reached to grab the frisbee and toss it for an attentive dog, only to smell that horrible stench. I snapped.
After about five minutes of being controlled by my anger, I collected Kona from his “little horse trailer” outdoor crate, and went into the house. My first call was my husband. I let him know what happened, that I had snapped, and that I was officially DONE.
My second call was to my sister to help get me down out of my anger volcano. The lava was everywhere. There was no turning back. I had spent six years trying to be a “strong” personality with this doodle dog and I could no longer do it. Being strong voiced, commanding and boisterous is not WHO I am. My energy level is minimal. I can not run six miles every day with a golden doodle. And that is what she needs.
Even throwing the frisbee for twenty minutes three times a day was not enough. She required more than I can give. My thought process included wondering if I could take care of Kona in the next ten years. I had not even been thinking that Honey was the source of my energy drain.
This morning when I heard the preacher on the radio talking about this Proverb, I was amazed at it’s timing. Does God really care that my dog and I did not get along? Does God know how sorry I really am that she was not the right fit for me and my anger was so easily roused by her every behavior?
I read the book last year about “Dog Mirrors” and how Honey was just being the mirror of my inner turmoil. Honestly there are some ways that may be true. Like my anxiety when going outdoors has been rather high this past two months. The allergies and asthma that drain my energy make me constantly wonder if the asthma will let me get back to the house before “black out” time. Well, I know she read anxiety as “anxious activity” and became more agitated and moved more herself.
Like when it was time to go somewhere and I was looking for my things, she would jump up and get RIGHT in the way. Her movements would always be just a few steps in from of me making me more and more agitated because she would block my way, block my view, or keep me from finding my shoes. It was SO NOT HELPFUL. And always made me more aggravated and I could never get her to STAY in one spot until I was ready.
Here’s a note if you are ever around a visual impaired person-Stop moving around all the time. If you can’t sit still to carry a conversation, don’t be friends with a peripherally challenged individual. I knew a gal one time that wanted to be helpful to me, but whenever we were together she behaved just like Honey. Always moving and I could never decipher where she was going to sit next. Rather than sitting in one chair and visiting, it’s like she was a honey bee checking the nectar level of every chair in my living room. I did not invite her back into my life.
So now that the dry morsel is peaceful to eat… shall we move on?
Surrendering my dog was not something I ever had in mind when I got that dog. But I am not the right fit. She is too exuberant in her greetings to strangers and I have NO CONTROL over her bad manners when people come to visit. Of course I haven’t much control over Charlie either, but he does not zoom around like his pants are on fire when someone comes to the acreage either. And he is very treat motivated. Cookies work to get him to come to me.
This week should be much more peaceful. As soon as I get to the chiropractor to fix all the things out in my back and shoulders from her bad behavior Saturday morning.
Kona looking out the window the day after
When I left her on Saturday, I felt like some great weight had been lifted from my back. We will have a few things to adjust to in the house or outside, but already I prefer the quieter life.
The other morning my return home greeting was dropping a small juice glass in my farm sink. Yep, it broke. Broken glass is not so bad to clean up when it is contained. I was careful in my search for all of the pieces and put them into the bottom of the still intact vintage glass. No cut fingers for me.
And today I feel much like that glass. Broken and useless. The message I heard on the radio was about spiritual warfare. How appropriate I think for how I feel. We have finally had some seasonal rain and now all the trees are budding and the grass and weeds are in full growth mode. My allergies took a nose dive into the tissue box and my head is in so much pain. Honey did not wake me up for my asthma need this morning, so I slept in until past nine.
“—A threefold cord is not quickly broken.” —Ecclesiastes 4:8b (ESV) The fourth chapter of Ecclesiastes has a lot of little nuggets in it. This is one of my favorite. In the passage, the wisdom is for people to work together in unity. Two people pulling in opposite directions are only striving after the wind. One person cannot stay warm on cold nights without an electric blanket. Two are better than one to defeat an assailant. So many little treasures of advice.
The last two Sundays I was blessed to go to church with my mother. The first week there was a missionary and the second week there were two baptisms. This same week a friend of ours shared a video of a testimony from another church in the same community. Seeing the Holy Spirit working in others lives is so uplifting. Staying the week with my mom and sister and her two little ones was more work than I thought it would be. By the end of the week though my old habit of not being able to fall asleep returned.
The first night there we let Kona sleep on the bed with us. Not very restful considering he has never done that before. In the early dawn hours, he woke up forgetting where he was. His frightful bark and the big fat tears in his eyes told me he had been very scared. I snuggled him into bed with me and he settled back down. The rest of the week he slept in his crate like ususal. Sleeping with dog on bed is not my preferred pet method. We both need the complete night of rest to be able to put up with each other all day.
Kona struggled with kid magnetics the first few days together with my little nieces. By the second day they had learned to co-exist and him not be so attracted to their every movement. By the fourth day a real rhythm had been set and he was learning to cue some things. His alerts at first were a little loud. He finally decided it was okay to inside bark that the baby was awake. He also cued some of the alarms around the house. The best was the “importance” of my mom’s pill minder. The last day he decided to walk outside with my mother. She just picked up the leash and took him with. Hmmm-I though she did not like dogs. And he also began noticing if the door did not shut all the way. That was helpful also. Pocket full of treats kept him very busy trying to earn a treat!
Meanwhile, my dad’s world had some bad news the past week. It was really hard to hear such sad happenings. But the day I called to take care of the flowers, he had had such a rough day. It was a blessing to keep in touch with him and hear him reciprocate my “I love you dad.” He has only told me he loves me a hand full of times. I think it meant much to him that I reached out even though I was at my mom’s for the week.
Returning home was “fruit basket upset” for me. I felt bad for not being happy to be home. The moving about and putting everything back in its place gets me pretty frustrated. My eyes just don’t always see what I think should be there. I took a detox bath, but it really did not help much. It wasn’t close enough to bed time to actually work.
The cutest event of the week was when the little girls were getting ready for bed one evening. My sister was making the bottle, and I was trying to “settle” them instead of wind them up. So I sang a silly song about the sun going to bed and so shall I. I taught them the actions of the sun coming up and traveling across the sky until it hit the floor again, then laid down to fall asleep. The third time the girls had the actions down and even Kona layed down on the floor to fall asleep for pretend. It was so cute watching them all interact so sweetly.
When it’s my time to go, I wonder how I will behave. Watching our elderly parents prepare for “the day” is hard. Some get listless and empty, letting go of the daily duties with quite a struggle. Getting them to understand that food is their first need and let someone else do the food preparations, can be such a battle. Others will not allow a hired help to come clean the house just for “privacy” sake or something.
I know it was hard for me to let go of the green house chores for the week and trust others to water, rotate, and watch care. Each sibling handles letting go of the parents differently also. Some just let go before it’s time to even relinquish their elder to this earthly suffering so that they do not have to watch the falling season. Some hang on so hard they won’t let anyone else take certain “cares” on because they have to have some control. In the end, the broken glass just goes when it’s God’s timing. We never really know when the glass will slip out of our hands and the pieces will be left to discard. We don’t even know what pieces we will be left with. God give me the grace to handle each broken glass with care.
Saturday I witnessed a health care worker in action. I was both amazed at her quick decisions and her patience in turn. The fact that she is my niece and “watch” caring for my mother makes it only more blessed in my mind. While everyone is feeling the loss of the changing of seasons in my mother’s life, I am going to focus on the blessings. I want to taste God’s goodness during this season. One time nearly 24 years ago, I wrote a poem that I turned to song about these seasons.
The Spring of the year does not seem quite like the right time to begin seeing the autumn of one’s parents. But along with the fall comes the harvest. And Harvest is everyone’s favorite of gathering up all the goodies that God has blessed us with. So while my parents (all four of them in fact) are going into their season of fall in life, I want to focus on the bounty that God’s goodness has given them all these years.
Railings are such good help when we use them and when they are there. Our back porch and front deck went without such things for the first ten years or more while we lived here. The railing on the front deck was put up first. And we adjusted the steps to make them wider and more functional. The back porch “basket” was done a little later. My eyesight was failing in peripheral enough to make the railings necessary. No more running down or up the steps for me. So getting the railing down the basement steps in my mother’s house was a necessary item that we felt should not be delayed. My husband installed it on Saturday
Keeping aging parents in their home as long as possible can be somewhat of a hardship on the children balancing the watch care. Life becomes something of a juggling act as each one takes turns. There is no sense that life is on hold as the days come rushing by and things need to be done faster that one can think to schedule each day into the calendar. No one is particularly just waitng for the “big fall” rather we are all trying not to miss the balls as they fly through the air to us.
Knowing that my eyesight plays a pivotal role in me even catching one of those flying objects, I hope the others will be nice and roll the ball to me and let me know when it’s my turn to catch something. So here I go trying to schedule my greenhouse care and my doggie duties around traveling. And I’m not a very good traveler. I have already begun preferring to stay home.
I found this verse in my reading time the other day. Psalm 138:8 “The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me: Your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever, Do not forsake the work of your hands.” There are verses about us being the “workmanship” of the Almighty. This verse really brought me peace when I was thinking of the days that God has ordained for each of us to live.
My hubby found a little saying that was a gardener’s “ excuse me.” Many times in life for some no apparent reason something in the greenhouse or in the house, plants just dies. The saying was another persons take on the situation. “You are a really good gardener, that plant should have tried a little harder.” But plant’s aren’t like people. And while some plants tell you that something is wrong, most of the time the disease happens way too quickly for me to respond in appropriate care. Having bad eyesight in the gardening field can cost me a whole crop. Preventive maintenance has to be part of my routine. So this winter and early spring I found a dish soap insecticidal spray and cinnamon are doing their job well to keep away some pest issues in the greenhouse.
Of neglected plants… Here below the first picture on the left is a Kalanchoe that my mother in law was “not” nurturing well. The little thing bloomed it’s head off for over three months. Finally after not receiving water on a weekly basis it decided to start dyring up. Then there is all the tulips at our place that came up the first two weeks of March only to get froze off not just once but three or four times. The first plant to show stress of my mother’s lack of “time” concept was her holiday cactus. She did get it moved out of the house last summer to finish it’s slow death outside. Plants in distress can make such a mess in the house.
Leaving the elderly alone for the holidays is also a “slow” death process. I blame the pandemic for the “keeping everyone safe” mentality that left far too many people alone for too long. I think I’m going to adopt my daughter’s mindset that says life is for living not for trying to stay safe all the time. Most of the elderly I know would rather just see their family than NOT see their family.
This week is the Easter Season, or the Holy Week. I have not been able to focus on the Scripture study that I normally do this time of year. So I’m glad that our Pastor chose a familiar text for his sermons around the special holiday. The 23rd Psalm has been one of my focus studies many times. It seems doubly important during this season of our lives.
I use to ask people around me what “season” of Psalm 23 did they find themselves in?… And right now I find myself longing for the Shepherd’s tender leading as I try to find the right paths to take each every day. The words “lead me” occur twice in the passage, so that’s what I’ll focus on asking Him. Lead me softly, Lord, Lead me gently. Just Lead me!
Side note: Kona got his first professional haircut yesterday. He won the cutest dog of the day award. What an enjoyable little bit of goodness in this season of changing goodness!
“Lord help me to taste Your goodness through each and every day. Even if there are some bitter herbs, lead me through the entire path that You have for me Don’t let me miss anything You have for me to taste!”
The weeding has kept me out of my library this summer. Maybe I care more about my flowers this year, or maybe my priorities changed. Writing has not been at the top of the list.
I was not even making a to do list for each week as it seemed the list was monotonous. Weed, water, weed, dead-head geraniums, start over. I also was trying to pay more attention to the pet bonding and make sure someone was not being picked on. Unfortunately, Charlie has decided that because Crush runs, Crush should be chased. Poor old Tom cat. Actually, I don’t feel sorry for him. Only enough to tell Charlie to “leave it!”
We lost three pets this year, Autumn, Eva and Cocoa. That is nothing in comparison to my cousin loosing her mother. I think I wrote a blog once about my Aunties. And my Aunt MaryLou and I had so very much in common. We just seemed to “get” each other even though some in the family did not get her. We could talk so easily about just any thing. We both had her mother’s eyesight disease. We both had two daughters. We both had intensely funny husbands. We both loved reading. We both loved ALL kinds of music. We both loved to talk about the little people in our lives. I just can’t imagine how her close family will live without her. But they were blessed to watch her grace and poise during her last years of painful living. Knowing that she is no longer in pain helps some.
My allergies have been somewhat more in the “controlled” state. Another reaction to bread that was “tainted” with barley has kept me away from the slices. So far the wraps that we buy have been okay for me. I had a close call the other night choosing gluten free wrap only to find out that most of the time they use potato in the dough. Real close!
Today is the hottest day of the year, maybe… I think they said the head index has it over 100 degrees. The breeze is generous and feels lovely. Though I am not working in the heat, I still am trying to get outside and soak up the warm. The bitter winter wind will be extra harsh this winter when I look back and think about today. It’s crazy how the flowers, the tomatoes, and the zuchini love the heat. What a lovely surprise to walk into the greenhouse and see one of the Amaryllis in full bloom.
The west Fig tree in the greenhouse is doing well. I have made fig preserve three times already. It is worse than candy. So addicting. We eat it with graham crackers. I have not made bars yet. There just never seems to be any left after I fill a couple of jars. OOPS!
One baby blanket this summer is completed. Probably won’t start another until fall weather. I am still enjoying making the back pack bags. A few dishcloths found their way off the hook. I have yarn for a few other projects, but all is too hot for this time of year.
Meanwhile, the back walkway past the propane was getting to be a tripping hazard, so I picked it all up and laid out some brick edgers to contain the wood cookies. Yes, I know not the best idea to have such a “flammable” path next to the propane tank. But I am using what works for me, what is cheap (except for hubby’s labor) and what I have. Several how to vid’s showed mixing up crete or mortar and pouring in when the chips are are down. Will see how permanent that would be, so probably just doing the chips again.
We have a few other projects of clean up nature and just putt-zing around the acreage. This will be kind of a forever thing. Kind of like how owning a house is always some maintenance project or another. Right now it’s the overgrown cucumber patch that is keeping me overwhelmed. So here I go to cut up some more veggies.
