How shall there be a testimony without a test? Can one testify to the faithfulness of God if that faith has not been tested?
My sister in law went home to her Lord and Savior a week ago today. My heart has been in my throat stopping up any words that ever I might have had for over two weeks as we awaited the call of her Lord upon her body. I had a dream one night about her telling me she was no longer cold all the time, and soon Jesus was going to call her name and she would go to Him. We ached, we cried, we rejoiced.
My husband’s sister had more testimony than most. Her first husband passed, then her young daughter died young, and yet, she was faithful. Just as God was there for her, she was there in the community for so many people. The largess of one’s testimony is not truly experienced until the grieving days. The out pouring of people and their time, gifts, and flowers at the funeral is a natural reaction to the testimony of a believers faith.
The children’s sermon on Sunday after all the eventful week was about the overflowing love and faithfulness of the heavenly Father. We had just witnessed this overflow. The love of the Lord was an overflow in Monica’s life to all those she met. And that love was poured back into her family in their moment of grief.
Psalm 23 has a phrase… “my cup runneth over” that follows the concept that God has prepared a table before us in the very presence of our enemies. And yet, He blesses us so abundantly that our cup runs over. We just witnessed the truth of that passage. While it seemed so much had been taken from Monica throughout her life, yet God had blessed more. God took away, but He also gave, to the point of overflowing cup of love.
There are so many little things that one remembers of another. Some of those stories are just for our own grieving hearts to heal. Other memories come at just the right moment to bring a smile that wipes away a current tear.
This moment of grief is bittersweet. We have grieved much these last two years with passing of parents and other relatives. It seems fitting that our dear sister who mourned much in her life should have her joy and rest after this season of sorrow in our lives. One’s heart can only endure so much sorrow. We are thankful for the little lives that have joined us these past two years. Her grandsons, our little grandson and another on the way, reminds us that God turns our sorrow into joy.
Lord, I am reminded of the song “Trading my sorrows” that was popular a number of years ago. I ask that you would turn our grief to rejoicing as we remember Monica and her love for You. Lift our spirits with the hope that only eternal reunions can bring. May the sweet by and by become sweeter every day.
Psalm 126:5-6 “those who sow in tears, shall reap with joy. He who continually goes forth weeping bearing seed for sowing shall doubtless come again with rejoicing Bringing the sheaves with him.”
My dear sister in law lived this verse to full and overflowing spreading the seeds of love and eternal hope wherever she went. And we rejoice that someday, her family and the rest of us, shall be gathered once again in the heavenly realms as great sheaves of harvest. How fitting that she should go home to those who have gone before during harvest season.
Unwell Women by Elinor Cleghorn: a book review and my own story of those who did not have ears to hear.
When I came across this history of women’s health in the medical field, I first thought, why not? Then as I listened to the book, I thought, why of course all these things happened. It is a male dominated world after all and these is nothing more normal than men trying to keep women out of their “dominant” fields. Why should I want to read a book that makes man the enemy once again?
For nearly thirty some years, I have been working hard at my notions and thoughts about men. Once I heard a story through the grapevine vine about one of my brothers hearing my mother and her sister “rag” on their husbands. Oh how easy it is to pick up on the negative nancy, bitter complaining, murmuring ways of the past. Are men really to blame for all the fall outs in my family. Or is it the age old problem begun way back in the garden of eden, where one blames the other?
So my story in the medical field has nothing to do with my husband and just has a few minor details about men being “not so intelligent” in the way they handled my case. Yet, there was a moment when a female physician put a note in my charts that angered me much also.
How do we move from bitterness about the past to gratitude in the present? This is something that has been on my mind for a long while now. There are two women in my life who have shaped my thoughts about this. And a few men also that I realize had the total opposite thought process. It is amazing how grief and deep wounds can leave a gaping hole that does not allow one any ounce of empathy for another person’s wounds. And when we color our world with our own grief we are unable to see that other people are aching alos.
After reading the book over two months ago, we had another season of grieving in our lives. First my uncle, then my sister in law. Though the time seemed to drag on in our mourning, finding God’s grace in the midst of us was not hard. The orchestration of my uncle’s memorial service and graveside sermonette was so God blessed that I could not ignore the presence of the Almighty. Then the passing of my sister in law here during harvest season was another God timed event for the home going of His beloved. When we focus too much on the past, our eyes are not opened to the Presence of God here in the present moment.
Another prayer shawl was worked off the hook during this time of grieving. I found the “trinity” stitch online and decided to use up the abundance of pink that is in that tote. I also decided that my living spaces are much too eclectic in color and some solid color pillows would help ancor the room a little more into the colors that are present within the afghans that I love. So I tore apart two pillows to make one. The box weave sweater stitch seemed like the best texture pillow to add to the view from here.
“Unwell” is not a book that I would choose to read on my own. It was in my recommended by others list on my audio app. Yeah, I would probably not choose it again. Sorry. It was just way too depressing and not very world encompassing. The setting was mostly UK and USA which makes it seem even worse considering these are the affluent countries in the world. Yet I suppose what have we to consider byt the curse upon women from Gemesis chapter three about bearing children?
In my color scan of the room, I finally decided that oatmeal / buffalo, ivory and burgundy are the most frequently used. Maybe I should be more thoughtful in the blankets that I crochet, to find colors that fit into my home better. I do remember that my grandmother’s crocheted items all had an element of orange to them. And honestly, claret / burgundy / cranberry has been in my life a long time. My boyfriend (now husband) had a burgundy car when we were dating. Our first sofa that we recovered was done in a dark wine color. The third or fourth large afghan that I crocheted was that color. And the remnant’s of that yarn are what is in the pillow above.
While my allergies and asthma are still a threat to my wellbeing, I refuse to think of myself as unwell. Just being alive often means that life has it’s good days and bad days. We made a beef stew the other day loaded with roots and veggies. I am allergic to potatoes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have carrots, parsnips, rutabagas and cabbage. It was so good! Parsley, salt, pepper, and a little Worstershire made it perfect for topping with some herb and butter dumplings. My saliva still waters at the thought of it.
I realized that this fall once again, the smell of canning and harvest is missing from the house. The bone broth smelled up the house for the weekend, but it’s just not the same as canned apples, seasoned tomato sauce, or spicy salsa. Yet I am okay that harfest passed me by this year. My energy level for such activities is just=not what it used to be.
At this moment, I am well. My allergies give me a constant tickle in the sinuses as the weather turns colder and the leaves begin to fall. However, I was able to work an hour or so at a time to get the greenhouse ready for all those pretty flowers. And while I could write about all that it would not fit in this blog. So as well as I can be, fall settles into the air, the ground, and the world around us. The fields are being harvested and I already pulled the gladiolus out of the ground. My nine bulbs have become 21! And will be stored in the cereal box wrapped in newpaper until next year.
I’m glad to be done with another book review that I was not to fond of reading. Life often means living without perfection. And being in perfect health… well, not many of us have that.
Remembering this day, 25 years after the event that changed our country. Here is a bit of what I experienced.
We were living in a rental in a very small town in Iowa. My husband was at work, and he called me to say, I should probably turn the television on and watch what was happening. I did.
I know that I made a flag etiquette error in choosing to put the flag under the shadow of these old acreage trees. It is my goal to find a new home for the flag pole where the flag can be”stand alone” in it’s cry of freedom amidst the home of the brave.
Really, it was probably not the best thing for my young children to see in live footage. My girls were only eight and six at the time. My father in law had colon cancer, with but three of his treatments following surgery completed. My niece had just died unexpectedly in July. And my grandmother had just moved into a nursing facility with end stage life taking her on the journey towards her end. Life was full of death and woe at that moment in our family. My husband had also just finished a few weeks off after an unfortunated accident at work that put him on bed rest for a time.
Watching death happen in real time was not exactly what we needed to see on the day that we all know as an emergency number. It’s hard to believe that there are kids who were not born yet, who now think they can text nine one one. Really? Really?
In these past twenty five years, much has happened to reshape the family and the people that are now my circle. My children are grwon and married. My daughters in full fledged motherhood are looking forward to giving me grand child number six. My in laws are now passed on along with my father. Several uncles and aunts have gone ahead of us also into eternal life.
How do we teach the history in a way that helps our children, grand children and our newest citizens to be properly reactive and to fear not. It is such a learned behavior to whine and fuss about all things rather than react in confidens and wisdom. Some children are little nuclear reactors to everything they experience whereas others are calm and peaceful, brave and stable. Helping children to be winners during any moment through the day is a never ending constant parenting. Leading a child into life in ferocious confidence, is key to one’s survival when life happens in a way that is unexpected.
Fear not.
Teaching fear not means being fear not. Some days I wonder why my body is reacting to life in the way that it does. I am studying health and nutrition in a deep dive like never before because there is not much life left for me to live. I want to live the rest of my life, not just survive whatever happens to me in the next many years. I want to live life, really LIVE.
So many moments in time are frozen in time as the attacks of terrorists took the future from them. Living through the terror there are so many who learned fear that they could never have considered. Knowing cruelty and horror. There were many who afterwards, not being part of the recovery or emergency response, who would feel guilt for going on living.
That day, we went right out and bought a flag. We had left our pole and flag in the country of the house we just sold. Living in a rental house was not our “dream life.” But the day changed us. We decided to do a couple of “living” choices. We took a family trip on a train in Wisconsin about three weeks later, and then chose to purchase a modular home to put on the family homestead . And here we are.
How is it that in the face of death many fear life? Yet we did. Then it became evident that fear is what the enemy wanted for us. NO! I began to tell myself and my children we will fear not, I will not fear. I will live and live life to the fullest.
Today the news in just the past year has been dark. A mother of three innocent children in her intense fear of the day and morrow took their lives with her own. bare hands and has lived to be acquitted of this hideous evil. How is it that others will now follow in her lead and take the very lives they so labored to birth? This is vain and abominable sin. What right has she to go on breathing after taking such horrid actions? And then also is the talk that a man who spoke truth deserved to die for his speech that offended others.
What makes people fear mere words and take such offense at the expressed word? Has the darkness that took down the towers twenty five years ago entered the spirit of this land that once claimed such freedom? What freedom is there if one should fear lest he or she say the wong thing and be shot?
Fear not.
In twenty five years the darkness has grown more menacing and cruel. Sin has not been called such. Yet God is light and in Him is no darkness at all. (I John chapter one). I shall fear only the God of Light who alon can turn his back leave a land in utter darkness.
Oh, that I would not be Jonah and run the opposite direction when I see the land of Nineveh in such need. I will fear not to share God’s light and be the hope in the midst of this dark night.
Fear not
Psalm 23:4. “Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear evil; for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff they comfort me.”
Today the moment of complete disrepair was my loss of a crochet hook. And I’m pretty fussy about changing hook brands during a project. The length of the shaft from hook to flat makes a big difference on the stitch tension. The whole item can get crooked or simply loose it’s comfort or softness.
This morning, the day after my mother in law’s birthday, I thought that I was doing okay emotionally. Until… until the I lost the crochet hook that I was using in my current project. After tearing apart the basket of yarn, the corner compilations of things, the blanket on the sofa protecting it from the the visiting dog slobber, and gernerally moving everything to and fro, the hook is still not united with the project.
The Hammerstein Cinderella movie from my early childhood was not something I ever saw as a child. My girls were gifted with the VHS cartridge of the movie and we watched it nearly as many times as they did Mary Poppins. The song, “In my own little corner” could easily have been my theme song from childhood and through adult years. I find the comfy corner in just about any setting I find myself
At church, it is generally at the piano, and yes, it is nearly tucked into the corner, only just displaced by the drum set next to it. Many times throughout my life in significant events, I was the one who used the piano in the corner to “entertain” or lead the singing. Growing up church, I was just stage left of the pulpit. Only because the back office and old stairway were far left, did the piano not truly sit in the corner. In high school, I found myself also often tucked in the stage left of all of the happenings on the stage, pounding out the accompaniment for the choir or the jazz band. Then on I went through college, playing for the interfaith fellowship weekly, local church choir, or other happening. After marriage, my placement did not change much. I did try center stage music ministry for a time, but it was not meant to be. The music that I composed still floats about in my head often crashing upon the shoreline in a tidal wave of memory and private worship times.
Crochet pattern kaleidoscope shawl just looked up a tutorial video and followed the pattern
My daughter’s growing up years found me also in the corner on the sidelines of their accomplishments at the piano. That also eventually failed, as their ability soon became beyond mine. They had other hands at the piano and I was happy to hear them become such very good musicians. I also had a chair or two that kept me “cornered” through their home schooling years. It was my “old school ma’rm” chair and I really have not sat in it much after they went to college and got married. Though it is comfy for me, I do not move my crochet projects about the house to sit in different chairs.
So in my own little corner of the living room, I set up a work station complete with baskets for devotional time, pottery cup with hooks and scissors, table for drink cup, and anything thing else that I might desire is within reaching distance. It’s not that I can be anyone I want to be there. I pretty much feel like “ME” most of the time. It is my creative corner both to use my hands and my brain and stay active in my sedate position!
The phone rings and from my corner I am still a wife, a mother, grandma “Oma,” a sister, a daughter, a niece, a sister in law, a crochet artist, a writer, and so much more. God has gifted me I know with a creative spirit. Sometimes, the old projects are ripped apart and made new. Somedays my ideas of who I really am get ripped apart also as God works on renewing my heart to be His child.
Today as I moved all of the items in my corner searching for my hook, I wondered once again…. What lesson is God trying to teach me in this?
The hook and project are still not united. Our family going the grief process in our recent loss of my father’s brother is also not united in physical form. Though we are united in our wonderment of why 66% of people do not have a will when death is such a guaranteed outcome of living? Yet there is the statistic and we all fall into it. Most of us do not plan for our death.
Okay, maybe these thoughts are all too morbid, but why do we ignore the inevitable? Meanwhile, loss and grief are all so common to us all. Yet some people take it upon themselves to think they are somehow “special” in their own experience and believe that no one else could ever have it as bad as they have. Really? Yes, everyone has their own set of life’s experiences, but should not these help us to relate to others going through similar life happenings. Death is not a singular event. We all have the loss of loved ones, parents, siblings, or children. Living involves loss.
The crochet hooks is still no where for me to find it. I finished one lovely kaleidoscope crochet shawl last week, and enjoyed the process so much I started another. There it sits. Without the correct size hook, it will be left alone for the day. When I have nothing other than crochet I literally feel LOST. I run about with my head chopped off wondering if cleaning is all there is to life I’d rather not live. Okay, it’s not that bad. But my husband would say “Yest it is.”
Books are my imagination escape. If it weren’t for books I would also be lost. I subscribe to an audio book app and that keeps me occupied most of the time. I finally got the BAARD set up on my phone also, and those are free. Then I can download four or five books, and just keep trying them and deleting until one peaks my interest. Sometimes I am not so discerning and pure entertainment is preferred to somehting more historical or educational.
This past month I came across “Mrs. Pargeter’s Mysteries.” While I do not give the books high marks, they did keep me entertained while I crocheted for the better part of two weeks. The final thought that I had after considering why I had spent my time listening to criminal mafia type comedy mysteries was – so that is what a “docier” is… french word maybe for keeping a list of someone’s wrongs towards a person or group that when reaching a certain said sin load would result in the call made for a hit or death wish. I decided that indeed a docier is what a lot of people keep for other’s whom they hold life long grudges and family enemies. I refuse to hold a docier of anyone in my mind or in my heart. Forgiveness has to be the rule in my relationships.
While maybe we are human and we have a difficult time forgetting how others have wronged us, If God can forgive me through Jesus, surely I ought to forgive others. Perhaps forgetting is not always wise, if we can remember without animosity and let it spur us on to be better and do better, that is good. Remembering the past mistakes of others is a lesson learned. And it should make us want to repay evil with good. So that was how listening to those books helped me. And when I mention things my moms said to me, it is so that I can respond with empathy and compassion to my daughters when they tell me things.
It’s been a rough day, but once again I am reminded of my own mother’s “someone always has it worse” stories and bad news reports anytime I felt like I had a bad day. She could always find some negative news item to make me feel like my day was sunshine and roses. Comparing my own happenings to the floods in Napal or the Grand Canyon, or the fires in Nevada just doesn’t make me feel any better, mom! Yeah, I know someone else might have it worse, but could you just say, “I’m sorry, you are having a rough day?” I learned at an early age that my feelings would never be validated. If I was ever looking for someone to weep with me, laugh with me, or just care I best be going to Jesus.
Oh, and the crochet hook is still lost. I have spent well over three hours moving things and looking for it. At this point in the day I am about to say the devil ate my crochet hook. I mean, he probably does not like my crochet and pray hours. So unless I go and buy another hook, the current project will ramain unfinished.
Conclusion of lessons learned from my crochet corner hooks and books already accomplished. However, today is another rough day for some of my people. So many prayer requests laid down at the foot of the cross, it is time to start the praises for what great deeds God has already done in our lives. The first being that I found my hook! I dug through my hook collection and found that the size I needed was “I” not “H” and begin working. I finished one color addition and grabbed the scarlet skein and there was the I – hook that I lost, embedded in the center of the skein that I handled nearly four times trying to find. Wow! Now Lord be the provider in all of these other prayer requests that I lift up to you now, and Thank You for being our supply!
The last three weeks have been the start of many writings. My journal entries are so scattered. Pinning down an over riding thought or lesson in what the Lord has been teaching me is difficult to grasp. This past month marked the one year anniversary of my dad’s passing. So much and so little has changed since last year. All the days that I thought about telling him something so that his mind’s eye could see what I was describing to him, all the days have passed like a blur. And yet, I still want to tell him, or my mom in law or dad in law something funny that their great grand kids have done. I still hear their voices in some odd everyday happening sharing their bits of wisdom and truths.
Today, struggling to see the difference between burgundy and chocolate I once again wondered how my dad might solve this dilemma. Of course he never crocheted, but he did with help color code his closet of shirts. Red and one end and blue and the other. Funny that while helping my mom put away her laundry after a recent hospital and rehab center visit, she too had some system of color coding in her closet. I feel rather foolish that I have not done the same yet. Especially with my failing eyesight. It would be quite helpful. Why had not I put the burgundy ball of yarn in a separate basket?
We are getting a rainy day for the first time in a month. It is cloudy and overcast with just enough moisture to make the surfaces wet. An actual rain dropping sound would be amazing, but we’ll get what we get, right? I remember clearly my mother in law telling me about the year that the corn still put on a crop just by pulling moisture from the air all season. Wow. So grateful for every “wet” day that we get.
The attempt at making baskets was successful. I actually got three done. They are about four gallon size, I used a five gallon pail to stiffen one so far. One cup of wood glue in two quarts of water, Soak the basket, then pull it over the up turned pail with a plastic bag to keep from adhering to the pail. Drying took about two days. First in the sunshine then in the house because it decided to rain!
Our rule is leave the windows open and pray that will bring some rain!
Well, I lost half of my blog by using the update on a secondary device. Bummer. The large tote of yarn that I bought of market place had some real finds. One was a skein of Alpaca Denim Gold for worth nearly 60 dollars. I made a dragonfly shawl. It’s pretty. I spent the first two hours sorting all of the types of yarn. Also finished a kaleidoscope afghan with some number six yarn. That was a real slippery thread.
My book reads this month worth mentioning are “Theo of Golden” and “My Brother’s Keeper” a civil war diary. Both are middle school to early adult reads. The second was one my mother found at the library in her Rehab Center library. The first a media recommend. I liked them both but did not immediately repeat.
The gardens have been weeded and preen spread. I was so tired of the chore. A box of preen was well worht the effort. The rain has been wonderful as I don’t have haul watering cans those days. The front boxes look lovely this year and the begonia’s on the front dect look amazing after i found a shady spot for them to live. The fig trees are on stuggle bus fashion as the spider mites and aphids are hard to keep at bay. I need to feed the soil I think.
Meanwhile, keeping track of colors of yarn continues to be a challenge. I use my phone apps frequently to tell the difference between colors when there are no wraps on the skeins.
There might be some grand lesson to learn over the last moth, but for the most part I am just struggling to breathe. My nebulizer and I have become well acquainted even though I loath sitting still and not doing anything. Books or videos keep my brain occupied while I puff away on the necessary medicine.
My favorite Bible verse this month is Psalm 121:5, “The Lord is your keeper, the Lord is your shade at your right hand.” It has been excessively warm this past couple of weeks. We had heat index over 113 degrees, feels like an oven out there.
The words of Jesus on the night before his crucifixion are a command that should make us think about what it means to “do” things. Realizing that there is always a motive behind any “doing” is quite humbling. Why do we do what we do? Is it merely self preservation or is it self sacrifice? Jesus showed the way to love, the truth, and what living is all about. We do so much that seems meaningless but is it in remembrance of Jesus? Is it communion more that just the breaking of bread and the drinking of wine?
Thinking about my dad this past month makes me wonder how much of what I do is remembering him? We planted a tree on May 21 in honor of our daughter and son in laws tenth anniversary. Our 35th in just ten days later went a little uneventful. No major memory making there, as the next day became more upheaval that we expected. My mother had a major life event and landed in the hospital for eleven days.
Then Father’s day came along. It was hard for me to focus on my hubby’s dad’s memory when the day marked the year to date after my dad’s passing. Yet there were lots of thoughts about both of them. And just a few days later, I found a new thought process going through my head.
We have so many broken pieces in our lives that need to be picked up. There are the broken relationships that mark how life was lived with or without people. There are the broken hearts and broken bodies that never really seem to heal no matter how much time passes. There are the broken homes and broken houses and broken people that mess up churches and break up families of all sorts. So many broken memories that we have to constantly bring to the master physician. Face it we live in a broken world.
There is a Bible verse that runs through my head often. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those with a contrite spirit.” (Psalm 34:18). I get the brokenhearted thing as I have many a time felt that bleeding emotional feeling. But what is contrite, what kind of spirit is one with contrition?
Contrite is defined as feeling deeply remorseful and understanding one’s wrongful behavior. It can also be the feeling proceeding repentance. A contrite spirit is one who knows her own sinful motives behind an action and chooses to have a changed of heart. While a broken heart is often caused by another a contrite spirit is evidenced by a “change of heart” when one realizes the wrongs done to another.
Thinking about my husband’s mom and the cookies that she made by the thousands the other day was humbling. First of all our recipe nearly failed because the margarine was not “baking margarine.” It had too much water content. We added and added and added more dry ingredients to get the right consistency. Then of course was the fact that my husband felt like he had murdered the cookies and finally had to walk away for his grumpy attitude. So I tried to finish the job and had to put the dough the fridge to stiffen up because of our 67% humidity. As many times as mom made cookies I don’t remeber that she every was driven to anger over the process. Bother but we were not making cookies in remembrance of her love of baking, now, were we?
Thinking about hubby’s dad and remembering him was easy the other day as his two sons worked together on a project. So muchof what dad did was marked by draining energy over the years and his “good enough” thought process. I find myself deciding the longevity of a project and deciding how much energy I should put into it and than stating that should be “good enough.” It is all based on what really matters to me. Yet I find that motive driving me to be self preserving rather that self sacrificing.
However, I began thinking out Jesus and His life and sacrifice on the cross in the “good enough” terms. Wow, that was mind boggling. Really now, in all of my thoughts about how brokenness has entered my life, I must constantly be reminded that Jesus is Good Enough for ALL of the brokenness. And in all of the times when I have been broken in my motives towards others, Jesus is good enough to give me a change of heart and help me love the way that He would. Yes, Jesus in all of my life experience has always been the “Good Enough” answer for everything.
My father in law loved to make toys and one of the toys I took that he made was a kaleidoscope. . So this month as I thought bout the project I wanted to crochet all of the pieces came together for this journal entry. One of my friends gave me a large sack full of leftover yarn. I thought about all the broken pieces in the little toy. First the pieces of mirror placed in a triangle, then the confetti or colored glass that turns out the designs. Life is like a kaleidoscope, sometimes all those broken pieces put together make a really fun design. It might not seem that way at the time. So all the leftover broken pieces of yarn when put together in the right order can make a real;y fun lapghan-afghan.
So while putting together this leftover yarn into a pretty pattern, I thought about all the broken happenings in our lives this moment. Broken relationships, broken bodies, broken churches, broken work environments, broken career paths, broken families, broken houses, broken car water pumps, broken tooth, and the list goes on. Yet what we do with all of this brokenness matters. Our reaction to one another, to the pieces we have to pick up and the relationships that we put back together matters. We can sweep up the glass and throw it away, or pick up bits and pieces and make a kaleidoscope full of beauty and blessing.
Life gives us a whole lot of little pieces sometimes and what we do with it matters. Do we run away from the challenge to become a better person, learning how to communicate love and care to the broken spirits around us? Or do we go around breaking others hearts by our incapacity to learn new ways of doing things?
Broken hearts belong to God. Hearts that are willing to change are so because God’s Spirit has softened them. Oh, that I would look at my broken heart moments as the softening of the Holy Spirit to become more like Christ.
C2C crochet kaleidescope pattern using left over yarn and a little skein or two of new No. 5 yarn. A little heavy, but it’s like bottling up the heat of summer for a comfy cozy winter afghan!
Some days I scare myself. Like walking out to the grill the other day and nearly thinking the stairs were closer than they aught to be, and falling. Well, I did not fall, and the stairs were another two steps, but the electrical “fear” shock still went through me. Then there was the day trying to walk in the dark hallway with my granddaughter on my hip. Her cringe every few moments told me I was getting her too close to the doorway or wall for her comfort. So I decided she had feet, and would just have to walk herself when it was not safe for me to carry her.
Left: the Eastern White Cedar that the bird planted at my daughter’s first house, was rescued from a landscape project and nursed along at my greenhouse for four years. We planted it on their anniversary. Right: my little bleeding heart bush is finally taking root and put out flowers. We had one at our house in Minnesota, and I have wanted one ever since.
I mean really, I don’t need to give her the anxiety of electrical shock scares all of the time also. Someone tried to convince me that the feeling I have, anxiety is based on my gut and some imbalance. Well, I know when they happen. Yes, it’s a gut level response. Fear! And the imbalance is the momentary feeling that I’m going to fall.
That has happened. Like a couple of years ago when a little rocker / sliding toddler chair was in the middle of the hall. I crashed over it big time. And the time the little jumper chair was in front of me and I crashed over that unto my knees. When vision fails me, gravity does not.
And now there is the word blenders. Like the day I asked my daughter for some cheerios for dog retrieval treats. I thought I said Cheerios, the oatmeal cereal. Instead my blender mind spit out oreos. They have cocoa powder which is a toxen to little dogs. Really? I think someone stuck a spun in the blender. Or left a spatula in my mind, when I needed a scubbie!
Oh that happened one time… I mean the spoon in the blender. It was a glass blender nearly fifteen years ago maybe. What a mess. The ingredients went all over the kitchen. And the glass broke too. Did I say that was a mess?
Maybe I’m over thinking these. But honestly when the baby’s name takes a pet name replacement, it’s scary. I did not think I was getting old yet.
So next time I say we need some more cereal, don’t forget the breakfast sausages!
Kramer is the most ridiculous cat, he curls up to sleep in the funnel on top of the rain barrel under the down spout. He has become quite the favorite cat (being the only one left and very friendly.)
And in other news, the nightmare about having a “guide” horse happened again. NOOOOO! While I know that horses live longer, a dog has a lot less allergy implications. I am so allergic to horses that I had to take Benadryl every time I took care of Cocoa, and that means he did not get the care he deserved.
Also doing research about hidden ingredients. Dextrose. Is the plant glucose that is a starchy sugar past. It can come from a number of plant starches, and most often is NOT single ingredient. So maybe potato, corn, rice, or other starch plants. Bother.
Book Review: Two books this week worth mentioning. “All the broken places “ by John Boyne and “The pearl” by John Steinbeck. The first is a World War II recovery novel. I don’t particularly care for gruesome details and skipped over most of the gory stuff. The novel is essential about guilt. How we try to reconcile it ourselves. The second is a battle of good versus evil. It is a much shorter story and I recommend it for the middle school ages. A 1947 writing, it is a parable expansion and a good read. The comprehension of treasure and real value is an undertone throughout the book.
The next week our family passes some milestones. My first daughter and son in law celebrate ten years married, while we will celebrate 35. There really aren’t enough words to describe the difference that twenty years makes on marriage. The unconditional, seet, knowing love is far better than aged wine or cheese. It can’t really be explained in one blog or book.
This week a friend donated me a large sack of yarn! Eureka! What fun. Projects are endless options now. We also got part of the garden planted. The two large garden boxes and the tomato tubs. It’s time to do something with myself again. Maybe I’ll just play with dog. We bought him a new ball this week, so he had to take it to bed with him. It’s so funny!
May is nearly over and the entires have been sparse this month. Another milestone was added in the family yesterday… my second daughter announced a precious baby package will arrive around Christmas time. Oh, I am so excited. It’s pretty hard to contain myself. Putting a lid on such news until the foretell permission is granted is difficult.
The exciting part about the whole week was there is a large stash of baby yarn in the bag from our friend. Yay! God knew and provided. Now I can study some patterns and make decisions and pray for another little one to hold! And pray that I won’t call the baby by a pet’s name… “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in God’s ears and those around me also!”
I recently came across some studies about the coded messages in Scripture through looking at the names in the genealogy lists. There are several available links on the web if you just search it. The Messianic Message encoded in the Genesis chapter five list of names was the first one that I looked at. Then there is Matthew chapter one and others. It’s kind of fun. So I thought, why not loopk up my own family heritage and their name meanings.
So the first task was to find all of my mother lineage or the matrilineal. Somehow I could only go back four generations. My great-great-grandma Helen was a school teacher in Nebraska. And I did not find any information on her mother or where she came from.
While sharing all the facts on the web, and putting myself out there in care of identity fraud scares me some. So I’ll do my best at encoding. Haha If you read my blog all the way through maybe there is something to be learned.
Beginning with Yvonne a derivative of Yew wood. What? The Yew wood evergreen tree in Europe is an enduring long lived tree of short stature. Yep, that’s me the shortest one in the family. While long lived is yet to be seen, endurance doesn’t seem as far fetched. When I was able to run track in junior high, I ran the last and longest leg of the relay. So for a short time I did have endurance in my running ability. But longevity in my ability to play piano has proved true. Even though I can no longer read the music, I am graced with new listening skills every year.
Recently listening to the songs of faith in relation to Holy week, I played “The Holy City” for the first time with no music. It was always so hard when I had to read the music and figure out all of the symphonic rhythms and such. I was quite pleased with myself for learning the new song and just have to work on the third verse yet some.
My middle name Annette means “God gives favor or grace.” And I think I already heard that before. My maiden name with all it’s connections to my father gets into being “high born” or “breeding stock.” Which is kind of funny when I think how important my Grandpa’s cows were to him. He had more pictures of his cows than any other thing. I like to think of the meaning more about the mercy God showed me in leading me to be born again through Christ. And finally my married name meaning scholar or scribe, brings me to realize yet again just how much writing means to me. God gives me endurance, grace, a higher calling to write what will matter to the next generation.
Llangernyw Yew Wood tree in Great Britain. Looked up history of oldest Yew tree and found this wikipedia link! Fun Facts!
Now to the matrilineal message God has given me. Helen who was a milliner means “bright and shining one.” I know that God is the true Light. Helen’s daughter Marie was a school teacher, homemaker, and mother. I wore her wedding dress at my own wedding. The delicate hand stitched roses were so pretty. Marie means “beloved.” And that’s truly how I felt that day and ever since. Marie’s daughter Mildred was her second daughter. Mildred means “gentle strength” and that is truly how I view my grandma. She was verbally abused as a child for being a girl instead of a boy and did not let that affect how she treated her five children or 18 grandchildren. My mother’s name Sharon means “a fertile, level plain.” I think of my mother as being the one who cultivated each of her children to accept the seeds of eternal life. When the whole message is put together I see God’s handwork in the message of love for me. God the bright shinng Light calls me His beloved, giving me strength and spiritual fertility in my soul for endurance.
The surname message is almost the same. Yahweh the Gracious God is faithful. More faithful than the rising sun, the Lord of the morning is Lord of the harvest. He who made the seed, plants the seed and harvests the seed gives life. God planted eternity within my heart. Born of the Spirit into a Higher calling to write and study His ways! Yes God is the gracious, faithful, morning star, planting and reaping the souls of hearts whom He has written eternity upon. I love that verse in Ecclesiates that says that. Ecclesiastes 3:11. “God has put eternity in man’s heart.”
Names do have meanings. And many people name their children sill alphabetical names without thinking of the future implications. Both my daughters were named after pretty flowers. So there’s that. I did not look up the grandmothers names on my paternal set. But I did do the full sentence of surname and first names.
Yahweh, the Bright and Shining is faithful to His beloved. The Warrior (Lord) of the morning is gentle and strong. The Reaper will sow an enduring forest! Another sentence says “The enduring words sown in the fertile soul will be a harvest. Like the strength of the morning sun overcoming the cold of night, God is gentle, faithful to His Beloved the Lord Yahweh shines life through every breath that I take.” There are so many ways that God speaks to us. Are we listening?
This week is Holy Week in the Christian calendar. The weather is giving us another roller coaster ride. One day we wear t-shirts and the next day dig out the winter coat again. Preparing for Easter for me will be cleaning up that first bed room again. And making a menu for my grocery man.
We got my mother moved back to assisted living after her rehab stay. That was exhausting. So much. Just plain much. I hope we can do some more to make her rooms more accessible in the next visit also. So perhaps that’s what I ought to be focusing on here also. It’s just so much easier to to sit and crochet.
Enough of my field entrance ramblings, the topic at hand is names. I took a look at the names of those mentioned in the Gospels who stayed with Christ beneath the cross. John 19:25, “Now there stood by the cross of Jesus His mother, and His mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene.” (Also His disciple John). Mary has three or more meanings. And there were three of them there, so Beloved, bitter, and rebellious all seem appropriate. Magdalene means woman from the high tower or watch tower. Yes, she did certainly watch her Lord until the end. Cleopas means “Glory of the Father”. And yes, that fits also as Jesus was the Glory of God come down to earth. John means God is gracious, or Yahweh is gracious. And yes the emblem of the cross has become synonymous with God’s grace. The interaction at eh foot of the cross between Jesus, John and His mother Mary has been repeated often. For in this directive, He commanded John to take care of His mother. It is an intensely private and special moment.
Perhaps it resonates so well with me after having watched three of our four parents enter into eternal rest over the last year. There were not a whole lot of commands or directives at the last moments. Except for my father-in-law’s statement “I’m not worried about tomorrow.” There was nothing else said that really sticks in my mind as a directive or command. Yet, I watched my husband taking care of my mother this past week or two in the same manner of love and care that he did with those who have gone before. We do what we can while we have them.
The generations that have gone before us are God’s message to us that He provided for us. The generations that come after us are those to whome we have the chance to write on the tablets of their hearts His grace and mercy. And another small bit of wisdom I heard this week: the meaning of our life is to find our God-given gifts and the purpose of our life is to give those gifts away.
Final thoughts on names. You might remember my name when you meet me. But there is one name that is far more improtant to know. Proverbs 30:4 says, “Who has ascended into heaven, or descended? Who has gathered the wind in His fists? who has bound the waters in a garment? Whao has established all he ends of the earth? What is His name, and what is His Son’s name, if you know?” Jesus means “savior of the world” and He gave His life away so that we might know Him. Do you know His name?
Going to church for children’s message is still my thing. I get so much more out of the little happenings in those five minutes. This past Sunday it was the orange that sinks or floats lesson. The seal of the Holy Spirit on our lives is like the cloak of the orange peel. When we listen to His prompting to obey the Lord and ask for help from the Father when we are treading water. So the object lesson is a pitcher of water in which first the orange peeled gets dropped in the water as we try to do everything on our own. But when we put on the life vest of Jesus Christ, we are saved. Pastor put his hand into the pitcher to retrieve the sunken orange only to have water go everywhere. One little child repreated his parents words in automatic response, “What did you think was going to happen?” As the congregation ripples with laughter and the water spill requires a towel, the lesson continued with the orange keeping it’s cloak of peeling and floating on top of the water just as it should. Two lessons or three in one! Don’t sink and drown wear you life vest. Don’t try to do things on your own, ask for help from the Lord. And Don’t fill the pitcher too full, because you will soon need a towel (helper) to wipe up of the spill. And maybe, think before you act, so that there is not a mess in the first place.
Changing weather is so hard. It’s like a roller coaster of wind, warm, and cold as we head into spring. The first day of spring here was Friday. And Saturday the alarm in the greenhouse went off at 99 degrees Fahrenheit. I rotated all of the fans and worked early in the morning repotting some of the geraniums. The Mother’s Day starts are all ready now and will just require water until the day. Maybe flower clean up every two weeks. Then on Monday morning, (today) the alarm went sounded again as the temperature in the greenhouse dropped to 39 degrees. Bother it’s hard to keep up with this pendulum swing.
I have always known the weather to be hard on the animals. A few years ago just about Easter, our little rescue Eva found the end of her days. Tabitha was her buddy cat. They had slept together, shared the dog hut, and generally layed around together for two years. When Eva was getting her last loves, Tabitha came over and rested on her legs one more time. It was so sweet to see them caring for each other. I cried much over that parting. Tabitha was mad at me for three days after that. She wouldn’t even return to the porch. Finally though she did, and spend many of her best days as our favorite porch cat ever. Way too many ways to say goodbye. Tabitha developed kidney failure in the last month. I knew she did not feel well the last few days, because she was one of those “potty trained” cats. When I took the dog out, in the morning, she had to go do her thing on the edge of the grove also. It’s always hard to say goodbye to pets.
Best front porch cat ever, Tabitha had her faults as a kitten, getting stuck in the mulch bin with another cat Boomerang. And she spend two or three wellness spa visits in the greenhouse recuperating from double respiratory infection, and then a sinus infection, and then skin tears from a mean male tomcat. She was on medicines more than any of our other cats. And she was also in the house more often on my lap than any other cat. She followed me to the greenhouse until she did not. We thought maybe she had lost some hearing from the sinus infections. She just did not choose to leave the porch very often. Tabitha found refuge in the boxes that we put out on the porch.
Maybe some cats are angels. You know there are some people that really don’t think cats are good. They do tend to cut you off at the top of the deck stairs many times as if the joy of watching humans tumble to the ground is in them. But then there are the cats that give people new leases on life, and a purpose for living. These cats could be angels in disguise. Tabitha was so good with the kids also. She just put up with so much.
Then there’s the morning greetings that constantly change throughout the years on an acreage. Missing Cocoa’s whiney or snicker took nerly two years to get over. Now it’s Tabitha’s morning perch on the porch deck box as she waited for us to come out. As soon as my feet hit the floor in the bedroom she exited her little warm box, and sat in the deck box waiting for a morning pat on the head. It is the one thing about daily duties that makes life worth living. Daily greetings form a dog, a cat, a horse, or any other such vocal being reminds me that the Lord walks with us and wants such close relationship also.
We were made to be in relationship with others. From pets to people, God reminds us that He is very creative in reminding us that He is real and true and loving and faithful. I will miss Tabitha’s daily expectations.
“When we walk with the Lord, in the light of His word, what a glory He sheds on our way….” Lyrics from the song “Trust and Obey” by Don Moen
