Tag: seasonal changes

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.

Lamentations

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Living with limits comes with its laments and difficulties. Turning from our laments to praise is an accomplishment that is only achieved with the help of the God who gives in the midst of deep struggle.

Thinking about book of laments; lamentation when my brother called things for my dad too a new rugged path. I had not gotten as far as the praise chapters. And for the moment I felt stuck in the bad news. How do we dig out of an emotional hole?

That very evening we went out to spend some time with my dad while he could still visit and respond to our words of love. While it was a very difficult week, we know there is more to come. Yet the blessings and healing graces could not have been more evident. If only others knew just how deep the wounds were truly cleansed as we chose to love on our dad in these last days.

We set up the brick base to put the wishing well in a more permanent location.

Today sitting my dad, we had the patience talk. He began crying as he said it is so hard to be patient. I told him, “There is only one giver of patience. God gives us everything that ever we have. Our lives, our children, our hope, our wisdom, our patience. We have to trust God for everything. We wait on Him.” “Yes.” He replied. It was hard to see him cry as he realized he was not getting any better. Going home was no longer his thought process. The only “going” we would do the next few days would be in our imagination.

Then just the next day, my dad faced reality and spoke factually to my dear spouse. My husband received the harsh reality from my dad’s own mouth that things are not getting better. “I’m in tough shape. I guess I’ll have to go to the nursing home.” His son-in-law responded with yes, most likely (even though in his blind state, he was already there).

Another week has since passed. It was so hard to leave my dad and know that the wake windows will slowly be closing in on any opportunities to conversation. Any thang that was left unsaid is still going to have to sit out in NeverLand.

Having lots of conversations with siblings and we who will be left behind as day after day goes by. Letting go and letting parents age is not any easier than letting children grow up. Except that this parent season in life seems so final. The cyle of life is difficult in some seasons.

And so I began composing the story or poem “I’m walking you home” as we spend time with my father in these last days.

Lamentations 3:22=23 “Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassion does not fail. They are new every morning; Great is You faithfulness”

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!

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.

Random writing Promt

Published on by yvonneannetteLeave a comment

Once upon a time, my daughter gave me a little writing journal. It is full of hundreds of writing prompts. Ice breaker group session questions are the kind that get people laughing or crying. I guess the emotional response is your choice.

My Scrappy Entrelac Stitch blanket, or prayer shawl, or something yet to be determined.

Today I decided just to get the juices flowing, I would pick one. The first one that I read was “what is something thoughtful that someone did for me?” And naturally, I thought of this journal of course. She bought me this journal. How nice. Just when I am not sure what to write about, and I don’t really want to talk about the same old things, here lies the little black thought provoker. Wasn’t that kind of her?

The next question was a little disconcerting. “when did you feel uncomfortable in some situation? How did you handle it?” Well, unfortunately, that was just today. And I can’t really write too much about it because it’s a little fresh. But when someone asks me to do something that is way beyond my comfort level, I ususally ask my husband to handle it. I get that sinking feeling that makes my anxiety want to go through the roof. Then I try to figure out how can I say “No” in the most polite way possible.

I usually make hats for the grand kids, but this year I made some for their friends, all in one family particular. I hope they fit! and this entrelac stitch pattern practice was a fail, so I had to start all over with a larger hook size.

The next writing prompt is more in my ball park. “What do people ask or tell me most commonly and how do I respond?” Well, the biggest issue that I have is my RP blindness and the continued decline of my eyesight. The most common and uncomfortable topic is people asking if they can pray for my healing. This desire for God’s healing is usually quite a cause for relationship drift. Why? because most people would rather have me healed they me required to help. Yep, I said it. most people would rather give God my rpoblem than take on my problem and help me . I guess it makes them feel uncomfortable that my eye sight will continue to decline and that I am well aware that someday I may be blind.

So, that’s how the prompts work huh?

Get right to the point of squirm already.

The next question is about regret. What is my biggest regret? That’s a tough one. I could pick one about my doggie owner me, or about my parenting me, or about my spouse life togetherness. Or I could just not answer today.

One day while at the littlest’s house, Kona napped and the baby (almost one) learned how to roll and trun and tried to get Kona to come to her. About three weeks later, she learned to fuss and tap her hands on the floor and get him to come to her. She clapped and clapped in delight to his response.

Living life with no regrets is hard to do. Living a life happy and full inspite of regrets is the answer.

How do I find motivation to keep one foot in front of the other when life does not add up to my expectations? Today is one of those days. The dark cloud seems to take every desire to move away from me even while the sun shines forth its brilliant warmth. So of course, the gloomy that kept me from moving much the other day, is now just the optisite in blinding light that keeeps me sitting within the shadows.

So today the thought process must be more dialed in or tuned in. But tuned in to what? Our sermon series at church is “Attitude of Gratitude.” The passage from the Psalms was a good one. Being thankful and making a list is sometimes hard to grasp. And being thankful inspite of life’s circumstances is a choice. Psalm 138:3 is the verse that I chose to focus on this week, “ On the day that I called, You answered me: my strength of soul You increased.”

The little succulant trunk planter my father in law made for me.

When it was cloudy, wet and almost fifty degrees, I went outside to find another one of these little pine needle succulants doing very well. Now it is nearly zero and the wind chill has made breathing outdoors difficult. The little plant, not yet succumbed to the cold, woked as an excellent specimen in this little planter. The little miniature “trunk” planter is so cute. And the plant has such a funnny story. My father in law thought that it should “grow” rather than just clean the air. So he fertilized it. When I retrieved the plant five months later, it was a giant bush! So I just cut off all of the tips and put them in the succulant soil mixture. And then I had two dozen plants instead of one.

Christmas is only a week away. And yes I find that the world has been painted by the color of my husband’s father’s passing. It took us nearly two weeks to get the tree up, lit and decorated. We watched a television show for distraction. There aren’t any gifts wrapped yet. The purchasing has begun, but we are struggling with the “spirit” of Christmas. Loss colors our lives iwht colors that are unseen to the naked eye. My hope is that we find joy in all of the memories. My prayer is that we find hope in sharing the stories with those her in our lives this season.