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”
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.
“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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
From last September until now seems like a decade. But really it has only been twelve months and a few weeks since this little black lap top came into my life. One year ago I was almost embarrassed to tell anyone that I got another dog. Why? Well, because I already had two at the time and another seemed excessive.
Yet, get Kona we did. We exchanged cash for him in the Burger King parking lot, only to find out that we both had driven farther than necessary. Kona was raised by a breeder just three and a half miles from our home. Ohm, well. We were pleased. And for the first time, I did not complain about the pain of riding in the vehicle as the seats simply do not fit my small frame.
And how did we get here? To this day of small black puppy sitting quietly on the lap while I type away… Okay, he actually has to sit next to me while I type. But as long as he has a bath every two weeks or so, he is content to sit next to me. Apparently it feels really good to be clean. No videos in the archives. He is simply too fast for me to catch after his zoomees from being clean.
September 29th just a few days after we brought him home, I began the lap training. It was time to stop bringing the cat in the house for a warm little body on the legs. And that bean bag that you put in the microwave always gets cold after a little while. Yes, Kona is much more effective as a lap warmer.
The other moments are rather hard for me to catch on film. I am just not good at photography anymore. Trying to catch the “moment” usually means I’ve missed the moment that meant to be captured! So most of the time I simply don’t try.
Winter moments of frigid outdoors did not seem so awful, when I knew that there was a warm up soon. Really, my blood pressure had been so low before the puppy, that I would often shiver uncontrollably after meals. I knew that I really needed to get moving more often. The other dog (doodle nightmare) only needed out three times a day and she often did not need supervision. So getting moving with a puppy seemed better for my physical needs.
That was winter, then came the spring. Honey got really sticky and naughty and decided she simply could not abide by our commands anymore. After nearly two months of “fighting” with her, I decided I simply was not willing to be someone that I was not. She must have been better at some point? No, all of my challenges and struggles day to day were definitely her pushing me over the edge of anger. I was done.
Spring rolled into summer and life became a little less stressful with only two “good boy” dogs around. We were so amazed at the peace that could be had in our lives.
While this little guy did present a few challenging moments, we learned that there is never enough socialization to be had. He presented us with some anxious crate dog prizes and also decided to be difficult in the potty training area. Why would he simply not just tell us? Uff day! Puppies can be so stubborn sometimes.
Summer rolled right into fall, and this year without the canning frenzy, I tried to pay more attention to the black mop. We made a couple of adjustments to his feeding. We were able to move from puppy food to adult food with a little moisture added to each feeding. Constipation is an issue for a puppy that does not exercise enough to actually drink a lot. Keeping the food a little wet has helped much.
We did not celebrate his gotcha day. Charlie’s “Gotcha Day” came and went with the farewell to Honey. So I guess we had two bummer family dog days. Kona’s Gotcha Day was when dad was in the hospital and we simply did not feel like specialty moments. Life was hanging in the balance and though the dog was enjoyable, people are so much more important.
While I have more than a dozen lap photos of Kona, these four seemed to spell it out the best. Life is full of seasons. Spring, summer, fall and winter we find memories that carry us into the next one. Sometimes the seasons are short like the puppy-hood. Other times fall seems way too short and winter much too long. Spiritually speaking seasons can go on much longer than we anticipate. Finding the moments worth savoring is what matters.
I am so thankful that my desire for a little lap munchkin was also part of getting me out of the chair more often. I need to get up and walk more. Even when I take Kona with me to my daughter’s house, or over to other places, it’s his need to go out that keeps me moving. I am glad for the excuse to get walking a little more. And I am perfectly fine with the fact that a Shih Tzu dog is a senior dog. I am an Oma-grandma four times now, and I guess that makes me well suited to own a dog best fit for seniors!
Truth Time from Kona: Just the other day these two old geezers missed my cue to go potty. I mean really, the music on the TV show was much too loud. So instead of listening to my huffs and puffs, they totally ignored me. So I told them. I went back tot he bedroom, jumped up on the bed and let it loose. Really what was I supposed to do? My bladder was about to blow up like a water balloon on a brick wall. Well, they did not like that, I guess. I’m back on the tether again. I don’t mind. Maybe they will listen next time.
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.
