Tag: motherhood

Code Name Message

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About My IF

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When I was a very, very little girl – and that is a true understatement – I had a stuffed pink puppy. In my mind the puppy was bigger than I was. My mother says I weighed only fifteen pounds at two years old. That is the same size as my little black dog now.

I have memories of riding this little pink stuffy like it was a horse. It solidified my love for dogs over that of horses at an early age. Though I thought I still liked horses, because my dad trained them, that like was turned to “dislike” until I was a teenager. The love for dogs stuck a little more, even though I cannot recall that the pink fluff ever had a name.

Imaginary Friends are for little kids who have no one to play with them. So I used my stuffy’s, dolls, and other such toys to entertain me until my baby brother came along at six years old. Then in another year or so I developed the management tools that I would need for the rest of my life while bossing him around.

I don’t remember of the little pink fluff had a name. The color was much like Cotton Candy. And though I did not know about such when I received the doggy, later years, I always gravitated to the fair cart for some of the pink fluff. Having it melt in my mouth could transport me to worlds of imagination. So perhaps the puppy’s name was Candy.

About my IF, that is Imaginary Friend from years past. Mine was a magic carpet puppy that I rode like a horse. My little legs hugged the dog and my fingers gripped his ears, and I ran and slid across the floor countless times. In my mind we flew around the room hiding under the table and landing on the sofa. It must have been my constant companion because looking at it in my adult years I noticed the faux fur was completely worn off the fabric.

Another strong memory from those wee bitty years, is of someone asking me if I wanted a piece of candy. I would nod my head vigorously only to be asked once again, if I was “sure.” My poor little brain did not know what the word “sure” meant. I remember doing a circle with my head from no to yes, not knowing what the correct answer was. I hated the question “Are you sure?” I was not sure, I was “Yvonne.” Did my Imaginary Friend have a name? Could it really be imaginary if the puppy was a stuffy that I rode around like a magic carpet?

This past summer when we cleaned out the old house, I found it in the “keepsakes” box. I took a picture of the pink rock and then threw it away. The stuffing in the doggie had turned into a solid mass of something. Not sure why, but the foam innards had hardened into a solid beast. The little puppy did not look near as comely as he had while I rode him across the hard floor of the kitchen as a toddler.

Through the years that followed my toddling days, I turned from this carpet puppy to horses during my play time. But it was not long until I felt the thump of the heart and warmth of live fur baby more comforting. I had a cat in middle school and high school named Mittens. Mittens was grey with white socks on the fore paws. He was such a quiet cat indoors that I snuck him up to my bedroom a lot. The comforting feline pur was so addictive. It was so sad when he had an accident and had to be put down. I cried a lot. Thank goodness he had to go shortly after one of my paper route friends lost her husband. The value of “soul” was not lost on me. I knew someday, maybe, I could have another cat. She would never get another husband.

Today, nearly two score of years later, I still prefer a puppy over a horse. Even though a week ago, my grandson asked if “we could get another horse.” What is this “we” thing, I thought. I already took care of Cocoa for years while taking Benadryl just to be around him. And I know that a cat would make my hubby do the same thing. He is so allergic to the “dusties” that a cat produces with it’s constant shed. That is one of the reasons we now have a Shih Tzu in the house instead of a constant shed dog.

We watched the movie IF (2024) in the fall of 2025. Yeah, we’re cheap and usually wait until the movie is released from theatre and can be seen at home. Once in a great while, we do make it to the show house, but this one escaped our knowing. I really enjoyed the whole concept of the film and thought about my pink Cotton Candy puppy right away. Who wouldn’t remember riding through the house on a pink fluff?

I don’t need an Imaginary Friend when I have a real fur ball. But I do still love the addicting sound of a good motor. I do have six cats outdoors yet. Tabitha and Kramer are probably my favorite right now. Though Kramer won’t sit still very well. Zuchi has followed me around the most, like to the greenhouse and stuff. But Kona does tricks! And though I can’t ride him around like a magic carpet, his greetings and energy are fun and contagious. He does make me laugh with his funny jump-fly over the steps into the living room after a fetch session.

Kona on the daybed after a fetch session.

While I began this writing back in October, today seemed a good day to complete it. I was suppose to visit my little people (grandchildren) but my daughter now has the tummy bug the two youngest shared with her. This winter has been full of immune building experience for them. My last visit to their house was punctuated by a little girl finding the scissors to see what was inside her favorite stuffy. Mommy was pretty upset for having to do surgical repairs once again. Some children are so attracted to the hand held cutters. My mind immediately returned to all of the toys that we repaired for our fur ball Furbie. He wanted to get to the heart “squeaky” and we let him. Then we saved the rabbits, squirrels, skunks, and socks for further demolition. It’s hard to imagine what this little girl might do someday and what this “knowledge” will help her learn.

Meanwhile, my mom took a tumble and aafter a brief hospital stay is now in rehab, riding a bike and learning to use her new “walker” friend. No imagination needed here. Just some hope to get better soon. And not the kind my husband mentioned. One of his coworkers needed a “get better soon” card not because he was ill, but because failure had marked every attempt to teach the kid something new. Some people have no imagination.

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!”

Smoothing Out Wrinkles

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The evening after a day with the grand kids often has me ready to go straight home and find the bath tub for a good soak. There is a very good reason why one’s ability to bear children happens during youth. The energy drains much faster when the cup is only half full even at the beginning of the day. So my thought process about going to see the falls was rather surprising.

We live in a climate that often gives us four seasons in less than a weeks time. And averaging the moth into tempreature zones I often wonder what season it will be this week. Dressing for winter at 8 a.m., spring at noon, and summer at three in the afternoon is rather hard to accomplish if I am not going to be home. So I was rather glad that the weather stayed a bit cooler for the whole day. And we decided to go walk the falls and smell the acrid spray of water mist.

First daffodil bloom of the year. The day we cleaned all the huge cottonwood leaves off this flower bed the greeneay shot up three or four inches. Of course that night it was 32 degrees again.

Day after day the spring has wrapped up a dry fabric across the landscape. The grass at home seems nonexistent. Patches of dirt are just spreading out like burnt pieces of toast all across the acreage. the crunch beneath my feet makes me think I should not even be walking there. It was nice to walk on a sidewalk flanked by actual lawn the evenibg that we walked at the falls park.

Kona had his scheduled spa day at the doggie daycare. I thought sure he would be tired, but instead he seemed so wound up when we arrived home. Like we got someone else’s dog. Maybe he just gets the zoomees after daycare because he had to be in the crate napping so often. His energy level has been pretty consistent and I still love that he sleeps so well all night long.

Kona sporting his new haircut. Not really new just fresh, as he gets the same puppy cut every time.

The water falls were mild for this time of year. I think even the up river snow fall has been way below average. I was trying to remember the last time we got rain that was more than a spit. Last Jjune or July we may have received an half inch at one spirt.

A whole week later: And now it is the day after once again. I feel like my ability to focus on thought and writing has gone with the wind. The dust clouds scared the rain away once again. I spent the day with the kiddos yesterday. It’s been a whole week since my entry beginnings..

I tried picking up a book about Mycroft Holmes the brother of Sherlock Holmes. After finishing the “Complete Collection” I really should try a different route of thought. The book that I chose was so scatter brained. For lack of concentration I did fall asleep. So for that purpose, it worked. But it’s daytime that lacks for entertainment. And I really should not watch videos of the grand kids for hours on end.

This morning I got to thinking about my dearly departed mom-in-law again. Doing laundry, I was reminded about her love for ironing. Was she truly one of those “smooth out the wrinkles” kind of person? How often in our lives were we part of her attempt to make smooth the rough patches?

There are three small travel irons now taking up space in my house. Who uses such a thing? They are a testament to how many trips they took. Of course the were benevolence trips. Because of their proximity to sibling relationship, that’s how they went. Though some trips were taken on their own funds, many of the cruises and such were group outings. I think of the other siblings and how they must have felt about this trio of travelers. Is there jealousy wat fueled some of the wrinkles in the relationships?

Unfortunately, I can also think of ways in which there were road blocks put up. But because we are all in a trying to get along phase in life, perhaps it’s best to leave the road construction season to the history books and not turn back the pages that cause strife.

Blanket on the left is the Freyja pattern from a pattern designer that I follow. The yarn on the right is for the Wild Things / thin flowers continuous blanket throw for a high school senior. Both are mosaic crochet patterns

My yarn came for a commission project. First the Freyja blanket needs to be finished. I really do like it just not fancy about these colors, so it will likely be another give away!

And one last night on the mishaps of the blind, not lame, and not dumb. Last night my allergies reached their spring maximum. My sinus migraines are requiring every medicine that I can possible take for this pollenating tree season. So while I love spring and it’s blooming nature, I am quite miserable and hope that this writing and my crochet work does not reflect this wrinkled up dress shirt moment in my life!

Tranquil Roots

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His Story In Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well Wishes

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The night that I began writing this we were sending well wishes heavenward for a dear family member. The hopes that our elderly loved ones would get better seem to be dashed to pieces every day. One by one something happens and watching the elderly suffer is difficult. We know that suffering truly is part of living, but oh that we do not choose misery while the trials continue. I heard Mother Theresa say “suffering is inevitable, but misery is a choice.” Suffering is to be like Christ.

The mornings bring cooler temperatures these days. Searching for a sweater I fumble to get my shoes on and dor our morning walk. Our pets are down in numbers. Scooping food for two cats required a smaller container and reading the daily feeding requirement for our two orange coats. Charlie now usually has to greet me before snarfing his one and half can’s of kibble. Brr, I begin to shiver before the return to the porch.

The other night at 3 am I went out to the kitchen for y midnight snack and found that the I-dot was playing music for itself. Well, no one was out there. So it had to be for the enjoyment of self, right? Then I woke four hours later to the sounds of intense pounding upon the house door, or the deck floor outside, something woke me up. Turns out it was the cat jumping off of the porch swing.

This week my allergies are at the end of their wits. I am only upright if I have the strongest antihistamine available to my system. How am I to make it until first frost? I have so much to do outside yet. Gathering the geraniums and Hibiscus trees along with all of the canna lilies. So here goes my friendship with Benadryl.

Meanwhile, all the children in our lives are gathering birthday wishes and school mates to learn new things and grow old before our very eyes. Sometimes I wish we could grasp these memories a little tighter. They seem so slippery. One memory is quickly replaced by another and soon a little body that could not talk or walk is talking, sitting up, and feeding themselves.

The wishing well still needs a pole, and a rope, and a bucket, but it looks great this way, too!

Wishing well poems and fairy tales are not just for children. I could not find a good example for this thought process. But while combing the scriptures for the hopefulness, I found 2 Peter 3:9 “The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promises as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” It made me so very pleased to know that God has wishes also. And what wishes have I that could ever be better than this?

While coating the well with it’s cabot oil, the rest of the deck furniture is all topped with another coat of water repellant also. I nearly used up the whole can. I decided it was time to spend my reading time with some better quality material. From “The Hobit” to “Redwal” to G.A. Henty time seemed to be passing with a bit of the RIP Van Wrinkle-ness of sleeping through the days while living in the other world of books. Mentally sometimes it’s okay to run away, but I needed a litle mental boost. So today I looked up some Mother Theresa books and chose “In Her Own Words” as my first listening option.

I think it’s because I have a devotional to attempt for a baby shower and one of the families “saintly” persons is now finely going to have a baby after eight years into marriage. Many thoughts have been on my mind about her famous spiritual leadership and. Missing the way that my mother used to be for me (stroke affected her mind and behavior) has made me often think of Mother Theresa. I think I wrote a paper on her when I was in high school I remember my classmates teasing me a lot about being a goody two shoes Theresa. Oh, well. I believe she deserves to be called a saint.

This is the mosaic crochet blanket poncho that I made out of some wool that my mother purchased a few years ago. It was originally a shawl and blanket. I took all the yarn out as I made the new item. It is much prettier now.

I am so happy my reading time is occupied fingers time. I really can’t imagine living without crochet in my life. This is probably one of the prettiest items that I have made it quite awhile. And the mosaic is a pattern that I could repeat over and over. I just never get tired of all the color combinations one can do with a particular pattern.

And now we “fall on our knees” as the whole of the family struggles with more sad news. Today, I sit in silence much. The sky began to thunder and even the clouds had a little cry…. but it seems to be a dry rain. We are getting numbed by the call for another prayer request. Why do we go into shock during stress filled moments?

Once again I turn to my new book to find some comfort in the words of a saint. The Bible reminds me to turn to the Psalms, to sing hymns of praise even during the midst of the battle. And we are in a battle for the souls of our friends and relatives. We are in a battle to choose to be like Christ rather than murmur of our misery. We are in a battle to love because God first so loved us.

It’s OK to ask for help 

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Why is it so hard to let others do what we cannot

This morning as I write, I am praying for one of my siblings. Her work in the finance world was directly affected by the software glitch that hit the world by cyber storm on Friday. I don’t know why my thoughts did not even consider her in the news that day. Because she has the same visual disparity that I do, this is making her job a very messy situation. Not only did her computer break down, but the age of her equipment was also found faulty. So here she sits unable to do her job, and required to go into the “work” site for the first time in years. Driving is also a no-go-thing for her. Coordinating rides and navigating corporate relationships are now tricky.

Meanwhile my brother is on some jury duty thing that is putting his job on the back burner. And having the same visual genetics, he now has to drive to a location and be in a foreign environment for an undisclosed time frame. I sit at home thankful that the only thing I tripped over today was the boxed that I put in the hallway.

The devotional book from my mother gave me Fanny Crosby “Close to Thee.” And when all friends have fallen away we know that Jesus is never going to desert us. While the work world gets more and more technically bent and sometimes less friendly, my little world sometimes feels so small. My husband also dealing with software that does not “fit” the need wonders why we can’t just go back to paper trails.

Isolation in life happens through many different avenues. Sometimes it is because of health circumstances and other times it’s simply the requirements of a field of work. Finding those who are in the similar situation can be difficult. Yet even in our disparity there is always someone who has it worse off than we do.

This weekend we tried to keep life a little more low key. My asthma is starting to fight my desire to be active. I had to get out the nebulizer and find some medicated oxygen to start my day. Finally after the humidity left in the afternoon I am able to motivate and do a little landscaping and plant care.

Entrelac stitch sampler on the left. Gaillardia blanket flower on the right that I have been saving some seeds from the butterfly garden.

So in the morning I listen to my book and crochet. My latest new stitch is the entrelac crochet stitch. It is a type of Tunisian stitch that is somewhat a “quilting” feature. The next time I do it I plan to use a larger hook size and hopefully get a softer fabric. This one is a little stiff because of the 4.5 mm hook.

I found this lovely native flower at one of the greenhouse stops this spring. The Gaillardia reseeds itself and is so pretty. I took some seed heads off a week ago to dry down in a bag. I plan to try seeding some into the greenhouse this fall.

Our little grand kids looked the perfect biker gang the other day. I just could not resist sharing this picture. It started Opa and I dreaming about a BMX trail here on the property. I have always wanted a walking trail all around the acreage anyway. So the vision continues. The day before the littlest one finally got to wear this little onesie that I bought over thirty years ago. It was obviously a sub-par sewing project for those who made it. the original tee shirt is way to big and wide for a 9-12 month onesie. So it looks very sloppy on any child at that age. But loose fit clothing is cooler. And at the teething age it does not last more than four house of drool. She had it soaked in about three hours!

We finished the Be Glad garden on Saturday afternoon. I had to have hubby help me. My breathing was so labored. The red mulch was the wrong color but cheaper than the other ones. So we filled it first with read and then topped it with the brown. I have a couple of geraniums in pots that I will move to the area today. It will remind me to water the plants every few days.

The book that I am trying to finish is “Forgive what can’t be Forgotten. It is all a little deep sometimes. I can’t listen very long. There are always garbage heaps that creep back into our memories and have to be dealt with. So I am doing some of that but will need some more concentrated time to journal some of the processing thoughts. So I picked up a “junk” book for a little while. It is from the wagon train and homestead era. Reminds me of some of the family stories that we have. All that for another journal entry also.

Today it is time for another cup of coffee. We went from a motorcycle ride Sunday and Kona did not settle at all. He enjoyed the walk at the local nature park. But would not sit still in the harness bag that I provided him. I think we will have to buy an actual doggie front sack for him that will keep him still.

My daughter has been teaching her children this from quite some time. “It is okay to ask for help.” She probably says that every time I am in her presence. And children do need a lot of help. It is great though when you can show them they can do it. Sometimes it takes a little more prodding to get the little birdies out of the nest to fly..