Tag: life

“The cold curses the warmth which it desires…”

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J.R Tolkein book review of “The Hobbit” and Book one of “the Lord of the Rings.” Series of books about Hobbit tales of the middle world. While I do not believe in the underlings, half-lings, little people or even the garden gnomes that I might put in my greenhouse, the imagination of such things does keep one ocupied in the midst of possible complete boredom. I actually convinced my hubby to watch the movie Trilogy “Lord of the Rings.”

One thought that keeps reoccurring for me is when Gollum calls the ring “My precious” and I see the discernment of those who would die over something that they will not let go of. What will I hang on to until the death of me because I consider it so precious? For some people it is their independence, for others it is love of other things. What do I hang onto with so much of my might?

Some voices are perfect for falling asleep to. I think of all those times that I went to the sheep barn in the middle of the night and WNAX our local farm radio had it’s programs with all of the UFO sightings etcetera in the middle of the night. Yep, if you stay away all night of course you might begin to believe in all the conspiracy theories out there. You are tired and not thinking straight. Sleeping to “The Hobbit” has become a pretty normal habit for me. If that does not work, then I use my voice only audio Bible as back up. But even then, much of my life at night is spent being awake.

Listening to the explanations at the beginning of the book for the “Two Towers” I found myself nearly in tears as I thought of those whose “precious” thing is eating them alive. The pity and compassion that we should have towards others must not be based on how awful they look of behave. Our compassion should come from knowing the God who in his love for the world, sent His only Son so that we all could be in relationship with Him. Eternal life that is free from. All the sin, guilt, shame, pity, devouring passions of this world.

Pity for the wretched beings must come from the Father of Love and the one who says, “We love because HE first loved us.” If it weren’t for people, loving God would be easy. But God wants us to love Him by loving the people that He has placed in our lives. We love God most when we love the least deserving of the those He puts in our lives to love. Who is my “Smeagol?” Would I let this person lead me to the brink of death?

Moving beyond pity for the wretched towards love and hope that they too will know the peace of God is our ultimate heart challenge. If we are eaten up by hate towards anyone, God gives us the answer in the book of I John. “If anyone hates his brother whom he sees, how then can he love God whom he cannot see?” (I John 4:20) Chapter two shows us that the light of God is not in us if we harbor hate towards a fellow human being.

The story of those who encounter Gollum and do not kill him for the pity of the individual that is so wretched, alone, lonely, and depraved, nearly brought me to tears. I pray that we would soon learn to desire that none should perish. I pray that just as God desires all to come to repentance, we too would hope for the spirit of remorse to be born in the soul’s of those around us.

“The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some consider slackness, but long suffering towards us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” 2 Peter 3:9 (ESV)

How does this kind of love translate in my life? Well, today my wretched being is taking hold. The battle against myself rages on. For one thing the family’s upcoming gathering is a “foodie” event. I am not a foodie and it seems every dish will be inedible due to my allergies. It is so hard to enjoy the anticipation when it holds so much anxiety. Unfortunately I let that enter a recent text in a group chat. Bugger, but I am a sinful human being.

Our grand-dog is here for a few days. After about day three, his displacement from home really sets in. I do feel for him, but the constant underfoot thing gets annoying. So we think about Octave’s visit to our house for four days… Kind of like having all four from the Seinfeld group our cats in the house, always wherever you want to step. Having a dog without purpose in my house is pretty difficult. He may have purpose at his home, but here, it’s just putting up with a critter in the way. He comes when I call Kona to do his job (find the empty water bottle that fell off the counter). He comes when I try to go out the door and stands in the way of the door handle. He comes when I go to the sofa and sits in my place. He Does Not Come when you call him inside. I refuse to beg my daughter’s dog to do what he should. The roles seem to be reversed. No thank you. So yeah, after four days he is feeling a little home sick. It it might go both ways. Poor thing, just wants to be loved. Come on, Oma, be nice!

So how does the cold curse the warmth in my life? And now on to the next thing. The home phone does not work and they are suppose to come fix it today. Be a whole lot of bark noise soon!

Play ball Oma?

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How to remember all those cute little things that grand children say? Well, first off, write them down! Because suddenly two years have passed by, and I am trying to so hard to remember all their little one time cuteness. Or recall just exactly what was happening when the child’s bits of wisdom are shared like nuggets of gold that are tucked away in the heart for future reference.

The family requested that I write some stories about the grand kids. So here goes. And a little disclaimer, being rather busy in the greenhouse and garden season beginnings has kept me out of the library which is my primary writing zone. Actually, since the library thinking zone days, I got myself a naughty little Shih Tzu that will not leave some things alone in there, therefore I usually write while he sits within view. The library table faces the white board, and he gets away with “murder” of some object when my back is to him. Actually, I loaned the library table to my hubby’s computer work station and now I try writing at my little secretary next to the doggie’s station-bed, water toys, rug, etc.

I started this writing over two years ago. Oops. And the running log of things just never really made it unto the published pages. So to unfinished symphonies and books and dishes and laundry, we say, “hello!” Perhaps today is the day that both of the sinks in the kitchen will be empty.

A grunt porch bench moment with the kiddos.

After four and a half days babysitting the four grandchildren while we waited for the arrival of number five, I am being a plant. My “working woman” daughter tells me, it is my day to just be a plant. Sit in the sun and soak up some water and rest. I’ll take that bit of wisdom to heart. Every forty five minutes I change the laundry around, and take fifteen minutes to do some tidying up after the children. And then I think of less than 24 hours earlier. My “Opa” hubby was getting irritated at the constant door slamming, and I reminded him, “Well, someday the door will be quiet, they won’t slam doors anymore and we’ll wish them back to childhood.” The time flies much too quickly.

Teaching the grandchildren to use their imagination has been one of my favorite time with kiddos enjoyment. Isabelle was just learning to play downstairs by herself, when she learned how to let her imagination run away from her. She was busy playing, when all of a sudden she burst into a blood curdling scream. Her momma ran down thinking that she was hurt, and the little voice cried, “but the dinosaurs were coming to get me!” Of course the sounds were the creaking of the floorboards as momma walked upstairs. From that moment on Isabelle had such a hard time going down to the basement by herself.

It was quite the turn of a new leaf when one day at the new (second) house, she went downstairs totally on her own while I was there. She is growing up right before our very eyes. And there is the Noelle stairs story to tell.

Noelle is our little Christmas snow bird. She has had therapy to force her to development the ‘walking” muscles. While screaming her drama queen tears, she has made it through learning to crawl, walk, run and say all kinds of nearly two words. The other day, the therapist was teaching her how to go down the stairs on her feet while hanging on to the railings posts. She cried the whole time. We worked so hard to get her to sit and go down the stairs safely and not fall. For a few months that was the warning, “sit down Noelle, so you don’t fall.” And now suddenly we are telling her to stand up, hold on to the post and step down the stair-steps. I can hear the protest in her mind. She is hearing, “Stand up and I will fall down”. Not stand up, use the posts, and walk. Uff day. These learning curves are hard.

“Play Ball, Oma!” This story occured at the table of the first house, while Isaac was still in the high chair. Melody had already been born, and Isaac and I were finishing up lunch. He was already in play ball mode of boyhood, and any moment to do so was necessary. So when he spoke his little query, I responded with, “Shall we play baseball? Or football?” “Baseball!” Was the response. I told him to use his fork for the bat and I would pitch an imaginary ball to him. “You wind up and smack that ball for a home-run, okay?” So we proceeded to do so, and just as he hit the imaginary ball clear over the back field fence, his plate nearly went off the tray. Well, okay maybe it did hit the floor, I don’t remember now, but then the wisdom moment arrived. And I said, ‘oh, no! Isaac, see that’s why we should not play ball at the table.” His eyes were big, and there was no scolding or laughter. But we both learned to use our imaginations better!

Tromping through the yard and yelling “cocoa!”s. Learning about inside and outside voices. The little ones that remember Cocoa the horse, had to learn that the horse could not hear them in the house. (Well, actually, he could hear and he use to be down at the end of the Walnut tree line, staring at the house wondering when we were going to come out with an apple.). But it was a good lesson to learn how to holler outside. Cocoa always came running when their little voices called. Even if they were on face time, Cocoa would come to snicker at them!

It was pretty sad when Melody, who was just walking followed the troupe outdoors calling for our favorite equine, Cocoa had passed away just a few months prior, and Isaac so matter of factly stated, “Cocoa died Melody!” I was carrying baby Noelle, I think and had to call for Isabelle to come hold Melody’s hand because she was now sad and crying. Lessons in death, all a year or so before the Great grandparent traveled on to eternity.

One day in June the summer after Noelle was born, Noelle told me she likes rainbows She had a little children’s book that she was looking at, and it is Noah and the ark Then Melody and I read through the children’s Bible storybook Afterwards Noelle wanted to turn pages so she turned the pages until it got to Noah’s Ark Then she put her hands flat on the page and looked at the rainbow , then to me. Oh, I said, that’s the same story in your little book. She began baby talk and would not let me turn the pages one way or the other. I thought about Jesus saying “out of the mouths of infants and children the Lord has ordained praise.” Indeed,

One last short story. Just the other day I had baby Joseph on my lap and he was holding my thumbs while Isaac sat on the floor in front of us. We had our first imagination play session. I asked Isaac if perhaps maybe, Joseph would want to drive the tractor with Opa. “Yeah,” he replied. So we did. We began driving all of the things on the farm, making all of the motor noises. Then we advanced to motorcycles,, and finally to the speed rocket motorcycles. Of, course, I was not being as wild as when the child gets older. But as we got to the fast moving high pitched motor sound, Isaac said, “Joseph is happy now!” “Oh, no!” I declared, “we have created a speedster child!”

Then, I asked Isaac if he remembered riding monocycle and monster truck on Oma’s lap. He said he did very matter of factly. That seemed so awesome to me. To have such early memories. But he also remembers rolling across the floor and getting his head stuck under the sofa, and I had to rescue him. All first year memories. I stated, “Wow, that’s great, Oma used to help Melody ride horses. She liked horses best.” And she still does. When they came for an overnight stay, she had all of them out, only to discover that one has a saddle, but no Barbie doll to ride on it. Well, we will have to fix that I suppose.

Ordinarily

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Threads of Faith

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Guest Writer Renae Kampa. Introduction by myselfl- Yvonne Annette. Phillipians 4:6-7 “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Trust God during troubled times is somewhat easier than during seasons of no wind. The last few months after my dad’s hopitalization and subsequent hospice care, some days it really did feel like God was literally carrying us in the palm of His hand. After the gatherings and celebrations, it seems harder to cling to the memories and know that God is just as close as He was then. Faith in the Father of Lights means that even when we are struggling with the dark thoughts of abandonment and feeling forsaken by our physical, earthly father, God will reach down into our dark feelings and remind us that He is still the Lord of all.

My father’s family has a history with the church that is typical worldly. The church is there in the early years, and used at the end of life bit presence during the in between years a bit lacking. Was God there during all the “dash” years? The Alpha and the Omega certainly does care about the middle years doesn’t He?

During the middle years, I spent many years trying to have an “Adult” relationship with my dad. For much of our history I had to hang up the phone or walk away from our visit because he would return to his old ways of behavior or speech. I spent twenty years trying to teach my dad that I was an adult, and he could not used language with me that was essentially trash. I am so thankful that I worked hard at those margins and asked God for patience.

My husband’s family was the example for me in service and gifts of grace and mercy towards others. So when my father-in-law and mother-in-law passed away, one of the third or fourth phone calls that I made was to my dad. I did not hold back the faith filled moments that God graciously gave to us as we parted from our loved ones. It was after one of these calls that my dad offered up his first “I love you” that was not prompted. Of course, it was also during this time that my dad made the decision not to pursue more treatment for his cancer diagnosis.

This past month my family said goodbye to my dad. This is the third parent funeral in just nine months. Typically that’s not what one thinks of for nine months. Yet another descriptive phrase is fullness of time. The full measure of a persons life is not something often thought. Yet again God knows the “handbreadths” of a person’s life. And once again another parent (of my sister-in-law) has now passed on to eternal life.

When we know the end is near, we often cling to that mortal life, clasping hands and wishing for their suffering to end. But the battle for the soul is paramount and must be fought while the spirit, heart, and mind can still accept and choose Life in Jesus. So that’s what we did. We went to visit regularly and during the battle moments, to help our dad choose the peaceful process of letting go into God’s hands.

Photo by my brother Wade. This double rainbow was a beautiful ray of hope for my brother the day after the funeral. (Our family does not believe a rainbow has anything to do with pride but rather the rainbow is God’s promise to care for His creation.)

The following is a written testimony that my elder sister shared at the memorial service for my dad. I have changed nothing. So this week my guest writer is my sister Renae.

Threads of Faith – Love in Action

Threads of faith – God in His loving mercy created us to love and serve him.  We are called to love, to be love and to show love to others.  A thread, small and insignificant in its own way may seem useless, however, when that thread is applied skillfully together it becomes a master piece – a cloth useable for many things.  Such is faith.  It too, starts out simple, small and may seem so insignificant at times, yet, God in His wisdom created us to trust, to believe, to cry out when we hurt and seek His help.  He lovingly takes these threads, the times of our lives and creates his tapestry of love in our hearts because of His great love for mankind.

God created us to return His love, he willed His only begotten Son to share in the trials, temptations and cruelty of all life offers.  Why, because the Son Jesus Christ so loved us, he wanted to share our burdens; He shed drops of blood during the Agony in the Garden before his death on the cross where he willingly died for our sins and offered His salvation to the world.  He died that we might live eternally with Him in the beautiful Garden of Heaven.

Threads of faith – We learned that cancer had returned in our father’s body and began to pray for his eternal soul.  Yvonne so eloquently said that: “Dad is a soul beloved by God” that we needed to witness love, faith, forgiveness, patience, and salvation to him.  I began to pray that there would be a thread of faith in his heart.  A thread planted into his soul many years before that he could now hold onto and that God would use to bring him to a place of accepting God’s gift of the Savior and His salvation, forgiveness, and love. Threads alone are fragile but when woven by an almighty God they become strong.

I prayed that these threads would be used by God to comfort him in his suffering and be the strength to guide his soul to Christ.  I prayed that each time someone would be present to witness love, faith, and prayer that he could adhere to its truths daily and find what comfort he needed in this trying time.

As he lay in his bed, Yvonne, Gavin and Valerie as well as others, would tell him stories of Jesus, read scripture, play music, and pray which are all threads of faith in their own way, threads that Jesus could use to lead his heart daily.  What we witnessed is a testimony to this prayer.  There was peace, calm and even acceptance during the last month knowing that his life on earth was nearing an “I love You’s” said and then repeated to each family member was God’s way of telling everyone he found peace with his Creator.  He knew love, God’s love and those threads of faith began to weave the beautiful cloth of love given and received.

God’s Mercy knows no boundaries.  Those threads – the things once heard are used by a loving Savior.  The wisdom and guidance of the Holy Spirit convicts and comforts us to accept God’s ways.  God’s Mercy reaches the depths of the soul that seems unreachable.  The beauty is witnessed seeing lives that are touched and changed.  Miracles happen right before our eyes, prayers are answered.  Jesus is Lord and Savior.  God is Holy.

We children felt the love of our father when we needed it most and he felt the love of his children and an Almighty God in every breath he took those last days.  

The final thread was woven out of faith and love; we give our father over to the creator of all the threads in our lives and let His love heal our hearts.

From the Diary of St. Faustina of Poland:

“Let every soul trust in the Passion of the Lord, and place its hope in His mercy. God will not deny His mercy to anyone. Heaven and earth may change, but God’s mercy will never be exhausted..” —Diary # 72

Psalm 100:5 “For the Lord is good, his steadfast love endures forever, his faithfulness to all generations.”

Thanks again, to my sister for being the guest writer this week. I hope this small story from our family’s love in action will bess someone today.

Allergy Awareness: Eminent impending doom

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Experiencing anaphylactic shock from an allergy is awful. The feeling of near, impending disaster. The danger signals firing alarm bells in my head as the world seems to go dark in waves. Then the fainting, heavy feeling that going down is the next thing about to happen. And suddenly, I make a phone call that is not 911 but to my husband. “I feel awful.” And I need a calm life coach to get me to the next step.

Only a person who lives with an epinephrine pen knows what I am going through. Experiencing the awful feeling that something is so wrong inside oneself is hard. The fog in thinking is like draining my thoughts away. I am not even sure what is next or what is around me. Knowing where my EPI pen is or my inhaler, or my Benadryl. I did find then all but just wasn’t sure about doing my own shot of adrenalin booster.

My hand after the steroid and two types of antihistamine were sent into the blood stream.. I had to wait four hours to be assured the medicine was enough for my glands in the throat to reduce swelling. Also a safety protocol of heart monitoring after epinephrine. .

I was able to yell in my brain, “YOU JUST HAVE TO DO THIS!” And I did make myself sit up to swing the pen into my right thigh. It worked enough to start the coughing and keep my throat open until the ER. It was a close call. Riding in the car, I kept feeling the fainting nearby and thought just how terrible it would be to leave my family right now.

I went through all of my motions prior to and the only thing is perhaps the brand name Fig Newtons were tainted with barley. Or the dog’s treat that I gave him had barley and I did not get my fingers washed good enough. The next day I found the three bags of dog treats that I set aside have barley, or peanut butter in them. I will have to give those away to somebody’s dog that I don’t visit.

The ER doctor put me on a pretty high dose of steroid for a couple of days until the ingested item is out of my gut completely. I can’t believe how my glands are still pretty swollen today. There is some vertigo from my ears being pressed on by the glands there. So much stress on the body and so much stress from other sources.

The following Monday happened to be my annual physical day and yes, my family physician did give me a slap on the wrist! Next time the allergy response happens, I may not have as much time. It took one hour and fifteen minutes from the moment of ingestion until the IV steroid. Next time (if there is and when there is) my reaction must be swift, first the shot, them the Benadryl and then 911. Someone else will have notify my emergency person.

Taking on the burdens of other people can lead to stress overload. There’s a weight which so easily entangles us in the affairs of other people. Casting our cares at the feet of the Savior soon becomes the only way that we can cope with the heavy loads. I am turned back to the week with my father and how we talked about fishing or hunting, or Jesus. I would ask what kind of story, And as his body became more tired, he would simply say ‘You choose” with the biggest grin and squeeze my hand. I knew that he knew I would choose a “Jesus” story. So today the Jesus words I pick for my life and those who grow weary with the burdens of decision making that we all have comes from the Gospel according to Matthew.

Matthew 11:28 “Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. “.

Of course, I am delayed on posting this journal entry. That is often the case as life happens faster than we can recall it at times. My dad passed away just the day after my ER visit. My brother also spending time in the urgent care to get a piece of metal out of a fingernail. Everyone else seemed to escape challenges until after the funeral. Then my other brother had kitchen plumbing disaster. My baby sister put up with a crying infant for the whole 17 hour car ride home. Life is not all frosting and birthday cakes.

The last few days have been solemn, sacred, special memories as we said “goodbye” to another earthly mortal. Grasping the life lessons that an individual has to teach us is so key. Having a positive, humorous attitude in the face of life’s sufferings, my dad used each opportunity that he had to help people find laughter in the midst of the situation. Even when it “hurts” to laugh, it is still the best medicine.

Note this close call: eating luncheon at the memorial service is a bit scary for me. I have to trust there is no hidden ingredient in the items set before me. Then while holding my granddaughter eating her potato chip, suddenly my daughter across the table says “stop, stop, mom!” The little dolls potato chipped fingers decided to eat the macaroni salad and my fork was holding a noodle that she had just swiped across before picking up her pepperoni pice. Close call, as I am also so allergic to potato it would have messed up everyone’s day if I got hauled off to the ER. Someone rescued the little body off my lap and took the plate away with her. I received another plate of salads and we made it through the day unscathed.

Of Odd Numbers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How to watch a Zig zag…

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“If ya haven’t got something nice to say… don’t say nothing at all. “. Our pastor had such a nice idea for Mother’s Day, hand out some compliments. Every mother really just wants her children to get along, to not fight, and perhaps learn how to hand out a compliment while they use their manners at the table. Unfortunately some of the little slips of paper that hte children were to pass out, inadvertently had nothing on them. Therefore many of the lessons that we aim to teach whether as parents, as pastors during children’s sermons, or as employees often get bumbled up. So the age old lessons, if you haven’t got anything nice to say…don’t say anything at all.

I was blessed to sit in the back seat with my mom on the way back to her assisted living quarters. My husband says he is happy to chauffeur and it really does work better for us to sit together in the back of the “limosine” where we can hear each other better. Two hours interviewing my mother made the trip go so quickly. And now it I can just remember all of those answers to those many questions.

Old memories are thus made new, while we talk about her childhood and remember things from throughout the eight decades that she has lived. So many things seem completely out of touch to our daily lives today. Like the wire used to hold the chicken after the head is chopped off. And the fact that it was down by the outhouse next to the twin cottonwood trees. Gavin’s grandpa had rigged up some fancy tool to do the job. Just how many chickens did the family go through every summer. No one took a daily trip to the Cosco broasted chicken ovens back them.

Then just a day or so later, I was to help with the grand kids for the day, and was so tired, I actually fell asleep on the floor at their house. This going one day and home the next day finally caught up with me poorly and few days later. My “Asthma Awareness Month” of May has given me a few days this month in which I fought the asthma struggle very poorly. I pushed and pushed to do some things the one day and finally gave up after blacking out while trying to pull some weeds.

Watching a Zig zag is quite difficult if on eis blind. Pretty sure if I was in the “real” job description, I would be fired. But how does one communicate with a toddler that will not say what she needs? If the child is taught to listen to her body, she will not be able to tell it’s needs. Bother for the grand parenting when the Zig zags and does to tell there is a bend in the curve!

So that is the small child… what about the elderly? I spend two hours Sunday interviewing a great. Now how do I remember all of those things. While asking my mother, I remembered all of my mom-in-law’s answers. Oh, dear. How am I to remember which direction the Zig zagged? I mean now really. I did not take my tablet with and nother is written down. It’s time to get out the files. And I need to spend the next two cool hours outside planting such and such. Or my Zig won’t get enough sunshine to zag!

With all of the car time I logged a larksfoot prayer shawl.It was a trial and error crochet project and I took out the first attempt. Pretty happy with the end result.

And so while Mother’s Day was sad as we missed my husband’s mom for the first year, it was enjoyable a bit spending time with my mom. But the zig zag of paying attention to which parent next continues on. My dad had a mishap and now a broken femar has him in the hospital in need for full time nursing care. Sometimes it feels like during the parent season of life one nearly gets whiplash wondering which way the attention will be drawn next.

Shared my favorite Bible verse Hebrews 12:3 with my dad and talked about Jesus suffering. It was a good visit the day that we went to see him. Also talks about cousins and the boxing gloves. Story I had never heard before. Some things he did not want to talk about. (Music for example)

The wind tipped over the wishing well twice in just two days. It made me sad to see our wishes not being met. Haha. We did get it set up later.

Such enjoyment taken during the road trips of talk time with my daughter also. I feel so frustrated that my ride to and from the city to spend the day with grandkids, I am so tired. It is hard to give our best when we are exhausted. While the road bends and turns through this journey we call life, I’ll do my best to watch the Zig zag!

Ears to Hear

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Isaiah 43:1. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by your name, you are mine.” This morning I woke up out of a deep hard sleep to the sound of my name. “Yvonne!” I tried to see if anyone was in the room as a fluttred open my eyes in the dark. When my eyes finally opened up, I checked my phone for the time. Seven something. early yet, but it was not my spouse who had said my name. He was already off to work. Then what? Or rather who?

Kona resting on my lap for my morning quiet time , on top of the prayer shawl from hospice that my mother in law received.

The other day for some reason, I decided to look at the notes that I took nearly 25 years ago. My thoughts have been turning to what exactly am I here for and looking at the exact purpose of my life. Of course, after having raised my children and now welcoming grand children, I still wonder that often. Is there something more that I ought to be or to do?

Through the years I have often considered that God made us human BE-ings not human do-ings, yet in our being we are to do what Jesus teaches. How does this all work? And especially as we come to the end of one life purpose like parenting or job or such, how to we transition to the time in our life where we spend more time BEING than DOING?

LISTEN: The first note card that I read has Isaiah 19:12 on it. “And after the earhquake a fire and after the fire a still small voice of God”. This story of Isaiah listening for the voice of God and finding Him not loud and large, but still and quiet. Yes, it seems the nights that I spend in sleeplessness are often filled with my audio Bible in constant play. The catalyst of suffering is often the greatest inspiration to music and other famous people. Zolton Kodaly is someone that I admired long before my daughter played one of his cello works at her senior recital. I would often just sit and let the tears flow down my cheeks while hearing the piece. While not sleeping at night might be considered a suffering, not having the Word of God to listen to would make it a worse “nightmare.” I am so thankful that I can still LISTEN during the still quiet hours of night.

CALLING: God’s calling to me and to others is to seek His face. Jeremiah 29:13 “And when you seek Me with your whole heart then you will find me.” Twenty years ago when I was writing a new piece of music I thought God was saying “this is your calling.” Like some people are called to ministry, or called to be a nurse, or doctor or the military. Yet rather for me God called me to mother my children and care for my spouse: that was my calling. Yes, I wrote some music. But much like the multiple miscarriages physically that I experienced, the music seems to be like stillborns. Not meant for anyone else to know. And now… being asked to pray for what ever the need of my children and my grand children. This I find is my calling now. And then the random home phone rings. Literally, the phone rang three times just now. Hmmm…

The completed “hearts” of the Freyja blanket. Set aside for its giving day.

NEW HEART: The sound of sonic boom that comes from my chest. I have heard this recently. One night just a week or so ago. It is almost like a thunder boom from my heart. Or like a lightening bolt through my soul. It is hard to explain. I used to be scared and sit bolt upright when this happened. Now I just lay there and say “What is it? Lord?”Deuteronomy 30:6 “ And the Lord your god will circomcise your heart and the heart of your descendants, to love the Lord your God will all your heart and with all your soul, that you may live.” That is the focus of all prayer for my people! The hearts of my descendants seemed so far into the future when I recieved this verse. Now these little people have names.

GOD WITH US: How does this Emmanuel thing work? Joshua 1:9 says to be sotrong and courageous. Were we strong in all of our moves, Minnesota for four years, Iowa for four years and now South Dakota in a modular home for 24 years. “Have not I commanded you? Be strong and of good courage: do not be afraid, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” I use to do a spiritual exercise with my family asking them where the Shephrd was leading them right now. From Psalm 23, where do you feel that you are? Are you among the rocks looking for tufts of grass? Are you resting by the still water? For us, the last six or seven months I know just where we have been. Already been through valley of the shadow of death, and God has been with us.

The little clay pitcher now used to store my ever difficult to find scissors and hook of the most recent project I am working on. “Thin Flowers” / wild things in medium tone pink and gray- very hard on my eyes. Uff dah.

EARTHEN VESSELS: The next verse from Jeremiah talks about broken bottles, or fractured jars. I need to study more about what this means but the Jeremiah 48:11-12 is the passage. Settling here in this place, the place where my husband’s dad grew up and thinking aoubt the “pouring from vessel to vessel” that we are now going through as we take care of the possessions of those before us. And the thoughts about the house and it’s cracks and things that need fixed. Moving all these things out of the way making room for the next generation of living. Also the idea of pouring our spiritual understanding into others. And my daughter just now sharing her calm and focus in the midst of little accidents with children. This broken bottles message is both physical and spiritual. Physically, we can be a repaired vessel that helps others handle the things of earth. And spiritually, we let God’s healing work in us to hlep others. “With what comfort you are comforted, therefore comfort others.”

AWAKENING: Sounding the alarm often makes us think of fire alarms or morning wake up calls. Amos 4:7-8. Thoughts through my head years earlier: “you seek rain for the land but where are your prayers for hearts softened with the tears for God. Pray for living water Do you ask for soft and cultivated hearts Pliable and moistened hearts full of compassion for the hurts of-those around you? Or is yourheart dry like the grass and hard like the ground?When God sends struggles like fire, will it burn?” This wake up call is for spiritually alive people to see that souls are more valuable than physical healings. Our focus should be on salvation of souls, not just keeping people alive here and now, but for eternity!

2 Chronicles 7:14 has been echoing through my heart for nearly a whole week now. I even learned the classical piano version of “If My People will Pray”. We have had almost an inch of rain since my prayers have focused on this verse. And I feel God is leading me to even more focus in my prayers as I dig up these old study notes from the Iowa years.

The last sound that I remember hearing was the TRUMPET. And there is so much that I see and hear about the second coming of Christ. The song that carried me through the month of February was “Come, Jesus Come.” Our Sunday sermon series on the Lord’s Prayer led me to focus on the phrase “Thy Kingdom Come.” All the implications of just those three words could take up a whole new blog writing. We must act each day as if Christ might come today, and yet we plan our lives in such a way that our descendants to Glory with us!

And so I return to the moment. The best example of “calling by name, you are mine” I an think of is the training of a dog to come at their name. Calling a dog to come on direct command is kind of fun actually. when we had Seymour and I trained him to his name. The recognition of name, eye contact and reward was so cool. And then when we had Casey and he whipped his head every time the commercial came on for Casey’s store. I said his name and he ran to me so quickly. Now if I could just respond like Mary did in the garden after the resurrection, “Rabboni, Master, Savior, Jesus!”

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.