Tag: the Bibe

From beinging to the end

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If you have followed me for any amount of time, you might know that I love sharing my Bible readings and insights. Today of course is another of those. And I also love sharing tips about how to expand your thoughts towards God.

I finished the year with a new mosaic crochet tile pattern. Learning curve for me as the green with white one that I did had too many stitches and needs a remake. And of course there is the stash of yarn that’s hope for a hook. I do plan a remake on the “chips ahoy” blanket that I never really liked. I hope to do some sort of add-in and perhaps I will like it then. Or give it away!

Ecclesiastes 3: 11 is a very often quoted verse from the scriptures. Most people know the first part, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” But many do not know the middle section, “He has put eternity in their hearts…” and I venture that some have no idea the last part of the verse is in the same verse as the beautiful quote, Here it is “…except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.” Wow, making everything beautiful is God’s mysterious work and no one has that understanding. There is that moment when the caterpillar becomes the butterfly, when is that exact moment?

God has put eternity in our hearts. Today my dear little cousin is going through yet another colon surgery. The surgeries that he has had are going into the second set of digits on the hands. I cannot imagine the thoughts and fears that he has experienced in his young life. Yet, God has worked eternity into his heart and he asked to be baptized this past Sunday before the upcoming surgery. Such blessed assurance the Lord is working out in his life and those who know him. surely, we cannot find out the work that God is doing from beginning to end.

So today as the beginning of a new year dawns, I wonder at all those who celebrate with hope and joy what God will work in others lives around me. Just like you, the past year held so many tragic images, I want to focus on the beauty that God brought to me.

While my physical eyesight continues to to fail me, and I wonder why things look so blurry, I will gain a better vision of a clear future in eternity. With those who have gone before me, I can hope for our renewed gatherings in glory. The holidays have changed so much without the visits of those whom we held dear. Now heaven is feeling more and more like the “hope of home” than it ever has before. It is no wonder that the older one becomes, the more homesick we are. It is easier for me to imagine my father’s clear vision restored in glory than it is for me to imagine the garden in it’s July prime this next summer. (It’s the weeds that do me in.)

This year in its beginning, I choose hope. The other day as I tried to clean out the library, I asked for my husband’s help. It did not go really well well, and my herbage became nearly worth the little garbage pail in the room. Finally, I asked him to leave, and I would finish the clean up myself. Yes, he was helpful at reading the titles and such, but that task was done, and now it was time to find a new home for the menagerie of items displaced. I did get it done in case you want to know. But it was a new beginning to me, having help with a task that I have done by myself for the past thirty plus years.

And so the beginning of the year has arrived with its new beginnings and its hope for positive endings, like a clean room that one can breathe in once again. Hope is often hard to grasp. The Bible says that “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.” Hope then can be defined as the expectation of a future outcome that drives one to act upon its believed outcome. How does one translate hope into action. Faith that is not active is not full of hope.

The most common simplified version of Hebrews 11:! “ We walk by faith, not by sight.” Yet Faith does have sight! The vision or dream of what will be is what keeps the faithful moving forward towards the prize or the high calling of Christ. Yes HOPE is the ability to see what is not there. The dreamers capacity is HOPE!

From the beginning of this year, I do not know how its end will be. There are so many hopes and dreams. Like the garden of bulbs planted in the fall that one hopes for in the spring, I must decide to do the work of dividing the soil and placing the dead looking object into the ground. Seed planting is how my brain works. Now I must translate the hopeful bulb garden into everyday life and keep “walking by faith.”

“The cold curses the warmth which it desires…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

String of Flowers

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I remember the first time I learned to crochet a chain. Then I added the single crochet hooked stitch in between. What followed was the ability to make a string of flowers. My goodness have htings changed. Looking at the latest project (Wild Things/ thin flowers with ends) I realized that essentially it is a String of flowers. On a whole new level of course!

Wild Things Thin Flowers with ends by the crazy crochet cat lady. I call this one “The string of flower” Dierra style!

The grey background behind the pink florets has been a most challenging color scheme for my eyes. I should have picked a pink within the “light” shades instead of two medium tone colors. Oh, well, I am nearly done with it and another month for the border will find me entering the fair to get a purple ribbon. I sure hope my adopted grand daughter loves it. She is a first year college student.

The giving moment! Gifting the afghan to my adopted college student. It was so much fun.

This journal entry is for September and yes, I am delayed in entry. We already had the “give-away” day with Dierra. My poor hubby always wants to call her Deedra, because he knew a girl named that in hight school. She absolutely loved her “special order, custom made” afghan. It was the highlight of the month to finish the blanket and give it to her. The feeling of love and pride and happiness as she accepted my hugs and love for this one time complete stranger was incredible.

In May when I was shopping for yarn, this beautiful check out lady asked me waht I was doing with all that yarn. I said, “crochet.” “Oh, I love things crocheted!” She stated. Then, “do you ever take orders?’ Of course, I replied, I would love to take orders if I had any. We exchanged phone numbers.

And the rest is history… She and I had a few text messages in the next two months and she “ordered” her blanket. And I began praying for her. My heart is so full for having this experience of sharing my talent with a young lady that has such a beautiful heart and was not afraid to ask.

I am reminded of the verse in Matthew from the sermon on the Mount where Jesus says, “Ask and it shall be given to you.” I think often about Dierra and how God loves us more than I loved her. God knows us so much more completely than I could ever know her. God wants to give to us what we ask of Him, more than I could ever enjoy giving to her.

Thank you Dierra for giving me the chance to love and share and give what you asked for. Thank you Lord, for giving me Dierra and so many others to love and care for. Thank you Lord for giving me what I asked for: someone to crochet something beautiful for. I was so much fun!

Luke 6:38 “Give and it shall be given to you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom (heart). For with the same measure that you measure, it will be measured back to you.” The feeling of full heart is so amazing when we give something away.

My little grand daughter decided to walk after seeing another little girl in her home school coop toddler room walking. The other little girl was sharing toys and handing out this and that to other kids. Funny how that motivated her to want to walk and “give” things away! Indeed, she spent one hour while I was there one day finding the pieces of some little building toy (hash tag building blocks) and helping me make a cube. It’s great to give.

Now if I could just teach my dog to let go of his toy so I can toss it for him. He’s still a little stubborn about that.

Allergy Awareness: Eminent impending doom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

YOUniquely You

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Journal # 285 and over 10K words total is proof that my mother use to always call me a little “wordy!” Here goes for this Monday’s entry. And a deeper dive into what makes me and the things that I say “uniquely me.”

Today is Easter Monday. (I was also pleased that one of the local schools called the day off this on their calendar schedule also.). When I was a child we used to get the day off from school. Super handy for getting that long distance shopping day in or recovering from some spring cough or allergy to rainy season. But spending the day in bed was not part of my schedule. I woke up with the hidden sunrise and heard the raindrops hitting the roof. At least the grass seed that we put out will have a chance to germinate with the moisture.

One of the earliest “quotes” that my parents remind me of is the Sunday that I went to church and boldly proclaimed “Our Daddy left us!” My mother was attending a staunchly German Baptist church at the time with her three little girls. The pews were set up so that no woman ever sat by a man who was not her husband. This statement surely embarrassed both her and any other ears that heard. My dad was gone on an Elk hunt with some very men from the community. He had only left for a two week time frame. What on earth did those stiff upper class folks think of this family of three little girls with such a “man’s man” father?

Today the turkey carcas is in the crock pot smelling the whole house up. We had the meat for the Sunday gathering meal. So today it’s time to cook up the bone broth. I really don’t like slow cooker Monday. It kind of ruins my appetite for eating supper. Smelling the scent all day long does that for me.

Snow holidays are usualy Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, and Valentine’s Day. But ever since we lived in Minnesota for a few years, I am no longer disappointed with Easter Sno. It snowed all four years that we spent Easter up there. When Easter falls in March or early April, one can expect colder weather in this northern hemisphere.

With pleasure a couple of memories came flooding back into my mind today. The turkey smell made me think of how many times my aunt and her sister’s actually killed and roasted a wild turkey for our family Thanksgiving or Christmas gathering. My auntie was such a good cook. And the other memory is of my Grandfather expecting the home health nurse to help him clean the turkey before she could take care of Grandma. Only in western South Dakota would the home health care worker need to know how to clean and dress a turkey along with an elderly fragile person’s care..

I am listening to the Rich Mullins “devotional-biography” that I found on my audible listening app. The first question that was posed to me is: What Makes Me Uniquely Me? Of course the answer is our genes, our lineage, our unique set of circumstances and upbringing. Here I will attempt to answer that question throughout these journal writings.

Moving things around in the greenhouse does not seem necessary when the sun is not shining. But rotating the geraniums is key to a well rounded plant. It is so fun to see all the blooms showing up. I am super happy that some of the two-tone varieties actually rooted up this year. The single colors make wonderful long distant displays from the road, but the bicolor blooms are great table top or stair case plants. Just like each plant is unique in it’s own way, so are we one of a kind. Indeed all of life’s moving our family around when I was a child and as an adult played a part in shaping me. Making me relatable and flexible to each and every church community that I participated in.

Hubby finally sold the junk car this week. It’s been sitting idle for two or more years. Last use was my daughter’s bum car so she could get back and forth to work in bad weather. I am glad to see it go. With only one driver on the farm here, it seemed silly to hang unto it just because… for what? I don’t need a car to drive, because I no longer drive.

This week the little petunias have to get potted up. But it’s so cold down in the greenhouse for working with 50 degree soil. Okay maybe it’s warmer than that but at 55 degrees my hands just get too cold. Hopefully they can make it until Wednesday when the sun is shining.

I know that I am the only ME that there will ever be. Thinking about the special touch of the Creator on my life is key to not blaming my genetic line for all of my “faults” and letting God be sovereign in my life. From letting go of a car I cannot drive, to preparing the greenhouse to be watched over by someone else all plays into my acceptance of who I am today. Sunday morning when I was blessed to play the Easter church service prelude, I found myself truly worshiping God while I played the piano. My three days of practice had payed off and I could give my best to the Master Creator who had made me ME. No longer able to read the music, I had to study it prior to pounding out the chord progressions and then figure out how to move from one to the next with no music in front of me at all. All of my life challenges and struggles had come to that point for me. And I truly did have fun making playing the piano like child’s play.

And YOU are the only you that there will ever be. What about your family heritage made your Easter especially special this year? What about your struggles and challenges makes you a better you than you were many years ago? What about today speaks to your unique time and place and shows you that God’s hand has been there all along leading you up to this day?

God’s Goodness

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Saturday I witnessed a health care worker in action. I was both amazed at her quick decisions and her patience in turn. The fact that she is my niece and “watch” caring for my mother makes it only more blessed in my mind. While everyone is feeling the loss of the changing of seasons in my mother’s life, I am going to focus on the blessings. I want to taste God’s goodness during this season. One time nearly 24 years ago, I wrote a poem that I turned to song about these seasons.

The Spring of the year does not seem quite like the right time to begin seeing the autumn of one’s parents. But along with the fall comes the harvest. And Harvest is everyone’s favorite of gathering up all the goodies that God has blessed us with. So while my parents (all four of them in fact) are going into their season of fall in life, I want to focus on the bounty that God’s goodness has given them all these years.

Railings are such good help when we use them and when they are there. Our back porch and front deck went without such things for the first ten years or more while we lived here. The railing on the front deck was put up first. And we adjusted the steps to make them wider and more functional. The back porch “basket” was done a little later. My eyesight was failing in peripheral enough to make the railings necessary. No more running down or up the steps for me. So getting the railing down the basement steps in my mother’s house was a necessary item that we felt should not be delayed. My husband installed it on Saturday

Keeping aging parents in their home as long as possible can be somewhat of a hardship on the children balancing the watch care. Life becomes something of a juggling act as each one takes turns. There is no sense that life is on hold as the days come rushing by and things need to be done faster that one can think to schedule each day into the calendar. No one is particularly just waitng for the “big fall” rather we are all trying not to miss the balls as they fly through the air to us.

Knowing that my eyesight plays a pivotal role in me even catching one of those flying objects, I hope the others will be nice and roll the ball to me and let me know when it’s my turn to catch something. So here I go trying to schedule my greenhouse care and my doggie duties around traveling. And I’m not a very good traveler. I have already begun preferring to stay home.

I found this verse in my reading time the other day. Psalm 138:8 “The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me: Your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever, Do not forsake the work of your hands.” There are verses about us being the “workmanship” of the Almighty. This verse really brought me peace when I was thinking of the days that God has ordained for each of us to live.

My hubby found a little saying that was a gardener’s “ excuse me.” Many times in life for some no apparent reason something in the greenhouse or in the house, plants just dies. The saying was another persons take on the situation. “You are a really good gardener, that plant should have tried a little harder.” But plant’s aren’t like people. And while some plants tell you that something is wrong, most of the time the disease happens way too quickly for me to respond in appropriate care. Having bad eyesight in the gardening field can cost me a whole crop. Preventive maintenance has to be part of my routine. So this winter and early spring I found a dish soap insecticidal spray and cinnamon are doing their job well to keep away some pest issues in the greenhouse.

Of neglected plants… Here below the first picture on the left is a Kalanchoe that my mother in law was “not” nurturing well. The little thing bloomed it’s head off for over three months. Finally after not receiving water on a weekly basis it decided to start dyring up. Then there is all the tulips at our place that came up the first two weeks of March only to get froze off not just once but three or four times. The first plant to show stress of my mother’s lack of “time” concept was her holiday cactus. She did get it moved out of the house last summer to finish it’s slow death outside. Plants in distress can make such a mess in the house.

Leaving the elderly alone for the holidays is also a “slow” death process. I blame the pandemic for the “keeping everyone safe” mentality that left far too many people alone for too long. I think I’m going to adopt my daughter’s mindset that says life is for living not for trying to stay safe all the time. Most of the elderly I know would rather just see their family than NOT see their family.

This week is the Easter Season, or the Holy Week. I have not been able to focus on the Scripture study that I normally do this time of year. So I’m glad that our Pastor chose a familiar text for his sermons around the special holiday. The 23rd Psalm has been one of my focus studies many times. It seems doubly important during this season of our lives.

I use to ask people around me what “season” of Psalm 23 did they find themselves in?… And right now I find myself longing for the Shepherd’s tender leading as I try to find the right paths to take each every day. The words “lead me” occur twice in the passage, so that’s what I’ll focus on asking Him. Lead me softly, Lord, Lead me gently. Just Lead me!

Side note: Kona got his first professional haircut yesterday. He won the cutest dog of the day award. What an enjoyable little bit of goodness in this season of changing goodness!

“Lord help me to taste Your goodness through each and every day. Even if there are some bitter herbs, lead me through the entire path that You have for me Don’t let me miss anything You have for me to taste!”