Monday Musings

30 Monday Apr 2018

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PICK YOUR COLOR

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Monday – so sweet with potential; with all six of the week’s seven days yet spread before us. Like a bag of M&Ms candy with all those colors, you can choose the color you feel like, although they all taste the same. Ultimately, Mondays are like that; each with 24 hours in the day, the paper was delivered, the mail will run, there’ll be meals to eat, and work to do. But for now – on Monday – we get to choose the color we’ll wear. The bag is still full! I can be blue if I choose, or sunny yellow. It’s all in what you pick. In high school I used to eat only the brown ones – that let me savor the taste, but not too much. As time went by, so did my self-control, and I am no longer a respecter of colors.

What will you take on for the new week? Select ravaging red, and take the day by the horns and go! Or bravely wear brown of contentment in the face of a fast paced world. This week’s post will be short, because I intend to take on a new job. I am going to weed and seed the lawn with a new spreader. I hope it produces LOTS of green! This is also the first of what I hope becomes a series of Monday posts. I will continue the M&M theme with the second ‘M’ standing for something to go with Monday, the first ‘M’.  Perhaps “Monday Mommas” is right around the corner:)

Today I am enjoying yellow and blue – sunny weather, blue skies, and four little bluebird eggs in the box still incubating. Last Saturday, I observed the sweetest thing I’ve seen in a while – two bluebirds just kissed! I am not kidding. I saw them fly into a leafless maple, sit side by side, turn to each other and touch beaks; then one flew off and the other watched. Did he go to work? She preened a little, then she, too, flew away and into her box. No, they weren’t feeding each other as I’ve seen them do for their young in the past. I didn’t see nest-building material being exchanged, and the eggs were already in the nest.  No, they just kissed; had to be. It gave me a new understanding of “a peck on the cheek”.

Have a sweet rest of the day!

“Look at the birds of the air for they neither sow nor read nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Matthew 6:26

Balsamic Vinegar and Rosemary Olive Oil

22 Sunday Apr 2018

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Why make the decisions we make? Purposeful, random, or eenie-meenie-miney-moe’d, something persuades or propels us in one direction or another.  Sometimes I just like the sound of a thing; like EVOO, or balsamic vinegar. I have a bottle of each on the kitchen counter, just because I like the looks and sounds of cooking with them. Over time, I’ve developed a real like for one; a little less for the other. I’ve obviously encountered a decision-making situation today or I wouldn’t be thinking  along that line. As we age we often take on sensitivities and intolerance to various foods and environments. Mine came to be wheat gluten, and over several years I’ve learned where gluten may be hiding and how embarrassing it is to question vendors, who only sell, not make the food. The frustration on their faces when we ask “does that have wheat in it?” is obvious. But it must be asked to make the decision.

A year or two later:  I made a decision on this rainy day to have a small ‘skinny coconut latte’ and I may have found a new best friend to accompany me as I blog. I still like to say “balsamic vinegar”;  and “olive oil” just rolls off the tongue (double entendre unintentional, but I like it). Perhaps I began this post to address decisions. Picking it back up today however, I really do not recall that particular impending decision. But what I do see in it is this: sensitivity and intolerance! As I get older, I find I am less sensitive, but more intolerant. While that may sound conflicting, allow me to explain.  For food and environment, ‘sensitive’ and ‘intolerant’ are pretty much the same. With attitudes, each of those words can go its own way independent of the other one. In the years when I was overly sensitive, everything seemed personal. Comments, actions, attitudes, were perceived as directly pertaining to or because of me. Me. Really? Someone forgot to tell me that the world was not my mother and I would not be accountable to them all. What makes us think we – anyone – is important enough to cause others to have those ‘bird-flipping’ days? What could I have done to deepen another’s frown, or increase the grit in their growl? I truly was relieved to discover years ago that the world’s happiness does not hinge on me. In case you don’t recognize it, that would be called co-dependancy. I learned it in childhood and that’s another story for another day. Isn’t it liberating to know that people can snap at you, frown and scowl, and you can just smile back knowing it isn’t your fault? Now, of course if I have offended, and yes sometimes I do, then it is just as liberating to admit it and say “please forgive”.  But in the world of vinegar-dripping attitudes, just remember that even if it wasn’t our doing, we can still have a sweet effect on the vinegar, and not become acidic ourselves. Drop into their lives a little sugar, salt and pepper, chopped tomatoes, hot peppers and onions and that vinegar comes to life! We called that goulash where I came from.  “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” (Proverbs 25:11)  Being less sensitive decreases worry and less worry opens the path to positive reactions.

Tolerance, however,  is another thing for me. When I was more sensitive, I was more tolerant in that I was prone to think maybe everybody is right, and I am not. Sensitivity for me, left me less clear about where I stood on a subject; therefore, I was more tolerant of the world’s junk.  I was afraid to make a stand even with a strong platform, so that I wouldn’t stir up some controversy that might be taken personally. This is reminding me of the “double minded man” of James 1, verses 8, 23, and 24 who is indecisive, doubting, and can’t even remember his own image!! I am happier being less tolerant of the things I know my Savior taught against, even though I am still  no fan of controversy! I will, in fact,  go to great lengths to avoid it. That’s just one reason I like to write; it gives me time to carefully phrase, and rephrase things to avoid being abrasive. Though I would never do that intentionally, it just seems that when the tongue gets going, it is usually way ahead of the reins. So, I write.

So then, being intolerant enables me to take a firm stand when I know a thing to be repulsive because now I can clearly separate the things I cannot tolerate, from the people who do them. The people are loved, the actions are not.  I learned recently that one reason the shepherd anoints the sheep’s head with oil is to cause an opponent’s head to slide off when he is butting heads in a challenge. Less damage is done. Another reason is to repel the flies that pester and fester. The Lord has anointed my head with oil, and it is so sweet. I can tolerate the pounding I may invite by being intolerant of what I want no part of.  And I can let insults slide right off!

Rosemary added to olive oil gives it a touch of sweetness, adding to the oil’s many other benefits. A wonderful emollient, it also is loaded with vitamins and antioxidants; and is flavorful alone or with added herbs. I choose basil and olive oil to change our age-old family recipe for goulash. I’m sure this would not be tolerated by my grandmothers, but I think my Mama would love it. She was much more tolerant of my decisions.

Then there is the vinegar I just can’t seem to totally avoid. You know, no matter what kind of vinegar I open, it still smells sharp and tastes acidic. As the Lord anoints my head with the oil of gladness, may the Holy Spirit continue to buffer me that I will not carry acrid sensitivity, but rather joyful certainty. If I have aligned myself with the good Shepherd, I can enjoy the oil, and avoid the vinegar. Maybe that is where this post was going from the start. We can make the decision to spew acrid vinegary attitudes all about, or we can pour the oil to smooth and enhance life for ourselves and others.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.” Psalm 23:5

COOKIES AND CRAYONS; It’s a Kid’s Life

15 Sunday Apr 2018

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Photo on 4-15-18 at 4.41 PM

I was a kid again last Sunday afternoon. Having received a bit of morning news that I was helpless to change, I turned to activity that might be the response from a child. No, I didn’t have a tantrum; in fact, it wasn’t even an anger producing situation at all. It was just one of those times when a child might shrug with helplessness, become saddened, and move on to activities that help him process life’s circumstances and deal, or more accurately, not deal with it.

After worship and a meal, I took myself to Wal-Mart. I needed cookies! Imagine my delight when I found gluten-free Animal Crackers! Now, I do admit a great chocolate chip cookie is hard to beat, but for a kid – my kids – animal crackers were the best! I couldn’t resist that little red circus car of crispy animal shapes to take home to my little ones in the 1980’s. Neither was I about to turn down this Glutino version today, since I have become gluten intolerant over the years.

Next, my Wal-Mart wonderings took me past the colorful Crayola aisle.  Whereas this is a temptation that I normally resist, that day my grownup reasoning was drowned out by recollections of opening a box of sharp, smooth waxy crayons. So I took a box of 24 and casually placed them in my cart, just for me.

After selecting the boring grownup stuff – light bulbs, detergent and cat liter – I found a cake mix and cherry pie filling  to try a new “sugar-free” treat for my hubby friend. (We kids can be so naive.) Eager to try out my new treats,  I had visions of hopping on the back of my cart and coasting up to the checkout counter. But I knew I would just pop a wheelie and end up on my back, in the floor, with a buggy of crayons and cookies on top of me! Shudder.

Once I was home, I shared the Animal Crackers with my Yorkie who was ever so glad I wasn’t thinking like a grownup. I also colored a whole page in a Barbie coloring book that I once bought for our great nieces. As I colored, I was thinking, no wonder kids are such inventors of ideas! My brain storming was in overdrive as I made Barbie a brunette and colored her world.

  • Wal-Mart – that magical place a child learns to ask for as soon as he or she can talk. It’s where they can walk out with something interesting that they didn’t walk in with. They smile and speak with no prejudice.
  • Animal Crackers – simply flavored, easy to hold, crunchy, and a trip to the zoo – all in one little  package! For about 79 cents (in our day) you could feed a child’s imagination. What fun would it be to bite the head off a lion if it didn’t crunch?! Or if a bear didn’t ‘snap’ in half?
  • Crayons – colorful; new sharp points that make it so easy to stay within the lines; and that smell!

The aroma of new Crayola crayons takes me back to childhood where my cousin Jan and I would lie in the floor of their walk-in closet and color our evenings away! The intensity of staying in the lines always made her stick out her tongue and that made me smile. Being the boss of how each picture developed gave us purpose, and a sense of accomplishment. It just felt good to control something in a world so out of our control; same as today.

14 But when Jesus saw it, He was greatly displeased and said to them, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God.
15Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.”
16 And He took them up in His arms, put His hands on them, and blessed them.

Mark 10:14-16 NKJV

 

Driven and Defended

07 Saturday Apr 2018

Posted by in Faith, Nature

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Once again I am driven by the cold wind to my laptop keyboard.  There’s hardly a discomfort that can’t be improved upon by a cup of coffee and a candle. My picks for today are Green Mountain Signature Blend and a Beehive Pot of Sugared Citron by Aspen Bay Candles. For December, January, February, and even the first part of March, I, like most of you, can gaze upon the glossy white of winter and find beauty and blessing in the frozen stillness of a winter snow. But this is April 7! The free-falling stuff  we awoke to this morning was just not what I wanted to see.

Worse than the white spread over tree blossoms, was the 28 to 32 degree temps of early morning. My first 7 AM thought was of the wheat crops, and for many farmers this late freeze will not be good news. My next thought was of intense gratitude for our daughter’s safe arrival to her home shortly before 2AM, after her Dallas flight had a three-hour delay. Last night I’d closed the front door on a driving north wind with a prayer that God would deliver her safely home, and He did. He no doubt heard my heart thinking, “I won’t even pray for the wheat crop because defending my girl is so much more important”.  So, as much as I wanted to complain this morning about the weather, it was overridden by the blessings of a warm home, happy hearts, and good health.

As I took Auggie out for a walk near noon, that north wind was still at work. Try as it did to remove my cloak of gratitude, I just pulled it more snuggly around me, as I also did with my fleese-lined coat. That reminded me of the childhood fable of the sun and the wind competing to see who would cause the traveler to remove his coat. Of course, the sun won. Like the warmth of the sun, which gave the traveler freedom to remove his heavy overcoat, the sword of the Spirit defends us against the drive of evil, that we may stand; (Ephesians 6:13, 17) and provides the freedom to remove an overcoat of fear, guilt and regret. Such a laden coat may hide our joyful cloak of gratitude.

In our north wind, Auggie and I walk briskly in the exposures between the large evergreens of our fencerow. Then we slow down and enjoy the protection from the wind as we reach the next tree. In a similar way, we enjoy amazing grace and protection in the wind break of our Lord. The elements of life can be pretty cold and fierce, but He beckons us to move in close to Him while we brace for the next wave of ‘whatever’. “How precious is Your lovingkindness, Oh God! Therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of Your wings.” (Psalm 36:7)

A bit of pulled pork and a jalapeño corn muffin later, I am enjoying the sun through my window. Mercifully, it has cut its way through the cold and cloudy sky. Our Redbud tree is glowing and the Yoshino Cherry blossoms seem happy enough dancing in the wind. Our days may be driven by the forces of nature, but our spirits are defended by a loving God whose Holy Spirit directs, and whose arms protect.

“For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” (Song of Solomon 2: 11-12)

 

Friendships: Puppies and Porcupines

28 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Reflections

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Hello! Long time, no see. I’ve been a neglectful blogger lately. My writing time was used to expand one of my articles published previously by Christian Woman Magazine, and I used that to present a talk in a Ladies Retreat in West Virginia. My sister and daughter accompanied me there last weekend. We had a wonderful time of fellowship and fun; so many laughs, hugs and encouragement that I feel recharged and refreshed! I’m not sure we realize, as women in a busy world, that our souls need refilling and refueling on a regular basis. We certainly pour out of them on a regular basis, do we not? I like the slogan on the Alum Creek Ladies Retreat Facebook page, which is “You can’t pour from an empty cup”. That has me thinking about friendship.

There are of course several levels of friendship. There’s the ‘barely know ya’ Facebook ‘friending’ and the ‘so glad to reconnect’ social media friending; there are long-standing work/school/neighborhood relationships that became friendships probably due to simply being there and the frequency of spending time together. Then, there are those unique people from our past who we can see ever so seldom and always feel like we are just picking back up a conversation from only yesterday. You know the kind , who have their ‘only them’ places in your heart. Perhaps it’s the first childhood friend you made (mine is Sandy Perfilio Jordan); or perhaps your high school bestie (enter Janie Hughes Guizlo); and of course the one you lived with as you left home the first time for that adventure called college (Linda Stubblefield Pugh). A different kind of friendship that can only be cultivated through time is that of husband and wife as newly wed days turn into always. He always has my back.

The weekend held for me a buffet of friendships. From the acquaintances that immediately felt like good friends, to the life long cherished friendship that is much more like family. This is the Arthur family of a little place called Bancroft, West Virginia. The mom, Helen, was my baby sitter before my memories begin and the mutual love between her family and mine continues in spite of my mom’s passing and the 450 miles between us. Helen’s daughter Kimberly Holder is my sister in the spirit. We think a lot alike although she is much more thoughtful and humble than I am. I had the privilege of seeing her sister and brother-in-law (Vicki and Whitney Hess) give their live band performance at a little Italian restaurant.  Though I never thought Vicki and I to be anything alike with all her talents, I discovered we have one important thing in common: she was more nervous singing in front of her three friends from Kentucky than all the times she has performed before senators, governors, and such. I too, had just had a case of nervous nellies as I spoke before a group of about 170 gals just like myself – living our seasons, doing our best to make each day count. My sister, my daughter and I were treated like royalty. That’s hospitable friendship.

Speaking of sis and daughter, this is another kind of friendship. Kathy, my sister and Stephanie, my daughter are the most supportive loving people you could ever ask for; more than I ever deserve! These close family members are people you can argue with and still come out friends. We must have those with whom we can share tears and confidences, knowing that it goes no further than them. That’s called trust.

My Mama told me once that to have a friend, you have to be a friend. I believe she got that from Proverbs in the bible, where it says “if a man is to have friends, he must show himself friendly”, and it was her answer to a question I asked.  I sat down at her kitchen table one morning in the months before her passing and said, “Mama, I don’t know what I’ll do without you. You are my best friend; and I don’t make friends the way you do.” That’s when she said how to be a friend. Hers was a sacrificial, wise and true love friendship.

I enjoy a large church congregation full of friends, many of whom I have no doubt would do anything they could if I needed help. Even there, there are always those two or three with whom you share a special bond. One shares a love for writing and has the most beautiful spirit. Another was a labor patient whose baby I was blessed to catch as he entered the world, making two friends of one! A couple of others whose newborns came at the end of an overtime shift where much bonding takes place are dear to my heart. Camaraderie at its best!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the very special friendship we have in our pets. Pets, especially puppies, bring out a gentleness in us that we start losing at about five years old. I think a three or four-year old would pet a porcupine and sweet talk it if given the chance. I want to be that kind of friend – the one who can love another in spite of the prickly days, the days when you need to be told you are special and not be reminded that it’s due to the quills. Like my puppy, who is always glad to see me come back home, I want to have open arms and heart for those in distress, or with regrets. I think that’s a Jesus kind of love and friendship.

I was blessed today with a visit from my old college roommate. The two of us shared memories and todays’ struggles and brunch. Hers is a non-judgmental kind of friendship, where we can openly discuss family matters and controversial issues with that trust I mentioned earlier. Along with the past weekend, today refilled my cup; I’m refreshed, renewed and refilled. That’s friendship.

Another Good Day (In Spite of Itself)

18 Sunday Feb 2018

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I have 20 minutes until it isn’t Saturday any more. For the entire day I kept wanting to write, tapping out little anecdotes in my head about how this day began with a damp outlook, but how we keep ourselves afloat by choosing to be happy rather than letting the grit and grime get us down. However, I just kept moving through the day, making mental notes that have already escaped me, and alas, I am too tired to remember it all. Was it the fact that it has been raining since the beginning of time? Oh, yes, that is how it started; the day, that is. Wet. And for all my patience and umbrella balancing, my little Yorkie couldn’t ‘go’ and my newspaper weighed in at sopping wet despite that blue plastic very permeable sleeve that it wears.  But this I took in stride and found myself not complaining; just thankful for the cutest little dog ever! He sat patiently awaiting his treat while I placed dripping umbrella, doggy jacket, and my shoes on the water proof sunroom floor. There’s the other thing I was thinking – how great it is to have a place to track mud and rain into and not worry about it! Comfort to the max. After spreading the important pages of the paper, that being the crossword puzzle, the front page and the obituaries, over chairs to dry, we headed for the coffee pot and breakfast plans. God bless the newspaper carrier; all I have to do is walk out and pick it up. They, on the other hand, have to get all those papers distributed day after day, no matter the weather. I’ll bet the rain gets through her open car window as she tosses the daily news onto the driveway. What’s more, our carrier is more faithful than the US mail! No kidding; during this winter’s snow, we missed only one day of the paper, but several days of mail were missed.

Well, my 20 minutes are up, and it’s Sunday morning already, but I’m on a roll. Just as I was starting to feel dry, cozy and full I called our daughter who lives two or three hours away, depending on who is driving. Had she gone to the mailbox? No, but she said she would, and when I called her back to see if she got the valentine I sent to her from her fur baby, her voice was changed. She said, “Mama, I’m kind of scared….” Do you know what that does to a mother’s heart when her normally very brave daughter has gone out to the mailbox and comes back inside saying she is scared? The rest of my coffee got cold, and my stomach was churning, but I didn’t let on to her. It appears that someone has obtained her personal information and she has received the first evidence of it. Let’s see, what can I be optimistic about here? The first thing I did was just nothing; I listened, and can’t recall what I did finally say because my mind was racing, and I didn’t want to make her feel worse. As if. So I am extremely grateful for whatever that protective coating is that causes us to sit stunned and silent rather than comprehending everything at once. That has to be a blessing that God built in for our own protection. We ended our phone conversation so that she could get right on the notifications that needed to be made, like bank account, credit reports, and so forth. I went directly to my husband and said “we need to pray – now” and we did. And that was where I became so thankful that I knew I would have to write before the day was over. Gratitude swelled in my heart that we don’t have to suffer insults alone. We do not have to work out the solutions alone. We have a hope for help today as well as for eternity. The next life does not have all dibs on seeing the results of a strong faith. Without the knowledge that I have a God who is able to do exceedingly greater than I can even imagine or ask, I would be left with our simple human devices. Unstable, uncertain, hit or miss people power is not what I want working for my girl! After praying, I immediately called my sister, bypassing her preferred method of texting to communicate. I wasted no time telling her to put her life on hold as she was headed out the door for a wedding shower we were both attending mid morning. “I need to talk to my sister, and fall just a little bit apart”, I said and felt the tears very near. I explained what was happening and that I had kept emotions in check for my daughter, but now I needed to let it flow. Would you believe her niece on her husband’s side of the family had her identity stolen! It was a nightmare for her and she became very well acquainted with what to do and how to proceed. I am so very very sorry for her that it happened, but I am also very thankful there was someone we knew with the voice of experience for my daughter to be advised. I am very thankful too, that my daughter felt better after speaking to “Mary” (fake name). How very thankful I am that I have a husband who can share with me the concern of our children, and to whom I can go to pray with me. What a blessing!  Counting my blessings would be quite incomplete without telling you how much it means to have a sister to call.  I’ve alway been thankful for her, and as much as we fought as children, it is a wonder she will even speak to me. But I think all that fighting creates a bond like no other. Her concern was genuine, and she immediately sent Mary’s phone number to my daughter, and told me it would be difficult, but we’d be okay.

As I arrived at the shower, where my sister had already told of the crime against my daughter, I found open arms and warm hugs for my hurting heart; and enough concern for my daughter’s welfare to reach the whole 150 miles away to her! I called her later and said “you should feel very rich right now, with all the love and good wishes you received today”! Thank you God for the sweet hearts of good friends! Thank you for Macy’s employee who answered my daughter’s call this morning and was so kind and helpful. I should explain that it was a Macy’s statement in the mail this morning, and she doesn’t have a Macy’s account. So, it was explained to her that someone opened an account, many many miles away, using all the personal information that belongs to my daughter, and did so to get the discount on the clothes they bought. The DISCOUNT? When you know you aren’t even going to be paying for them? OK…..Well, I guess that gave them a legitimate reason to open a new account, I say with sarcasm. Whoever that was, will never know that I sat down this morning and prayed for them to have a change of heart and destroy the information they are using, and well, if you’re thinking I asked for them to be blessed, you are wrong. I am after all, a mother. Don’t mess with my cubs. But I did refrain from wishing them any harm. Truly. I am thankful that God has directed us to wish no harm to others, because I don’t think it would have made my day to unleash those kind of negative thoughts. I am going to stay optimistic, and positive, and thankful. A dry roof over our heads; good friends and family; prayer and a Lord Who loves my daughter even more than I do! It was indeed a good day.

This is indeed the day that the Lord has made and I will be glad in it. Because I can.

The In and Out of Season

20 Saturday Jan 2018

Posted by in Nature, The unexpected

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It is coffee-o’clock in the afternoon, and I am pondering the things that were on my mind as I walked Auggie just after noon today. With temperatures between 40 and 50, many folks around here are getting their wish for a thaw. As the saying goes, there’s a blessing and a curse in this. The sound of our walk has changed from the quiet whump whump of boots on snow, to the slosh slush of melting ice and snow underfoot. It is actually more difficult to keep my footing in this than it was on solid ice and fluffy snow.

What was beautiful white snow is now poxed with surfacing mud, weed and grass sprigs, and the gazillion tracks and seed shells strewn by grateful birds. The gleam of sunshine over a white field is clouded over today, and today’s 40 felt colder than 10 degrees did on a sunny day.  After a week of putting Auggie and myself into and out of  sweaters, coat, hood, scarf, boots, gloves, and even at times extra layers, plus a leash, well – I’m easing up on the job and thinking I wouldn’t make a good Alaskan!

No, the sounds and sights are not as pleasing to me, but 6 days without mail and the cancelled plans weren’t great either. Oh, I am not complaining. We certainly don’t experience this scenario much around here. I rather enjoyed the quiet time. I felt a purpose in life – keeping the birds fed, checking on my elderly family members, using groceries judiciously and preparing meals that would keep my man happy (smile – I know how old-fashioned that sounds) and keeping the household prepared just incase we lost electricity along the way.

But this isn’t the crux of my thoughts this morning. It was change. I think a lot about that lately. We went overnight from a 60 degree rain to temps in the teens with a layer of ice and several inches of snow.  Likewise, we went from teens back to 50 degrees in less than 24 hours today. My sister says my reaction time emotionally goes from zero to 90 in a moment. We go from stocked shelves and full refrigerator to “whats for dinner?’ in a few days of home cooking. I went from a peaceful moment of “I think I’ll get something out of the freezer” to a mad race for towels, containers, and yells for help. The freezer was off and our food had thawed. I cooked a great deal, gave some away, threw away  even more, and I now have a clean freezer ready to be refilled. I may have cried a tear or two, recalling the work I put into those garden veggies. It’s a small thing really, and I’m over it. But all those huge things that people endure as their seasons change are not coped with so easily. My heart bleeds for them. As I prepare to speak in March at a Ladies Retreat I will be giving a greater portion of thought to this thing we call change. Seasons.  Our seasons within seasons. The beauty and the beast of seasons as they come and go. And especially the Letting Go as we prepare for another!

Enjoy your season, whatever it is. They go by too quickly to miss a moment of each one. In a flash I will be watching for little garden seeds to sprout, bringing more of those vegetables we love. “Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and teaching.” (II Timothy 4:2 NKJV)

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Winter Ghosts

13 Saturday Jan 2018

Posted by in Nature, Reflections

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As I sit over a cup of Keurig Peppermint Bark, I am bewitched by the scene through the kitchen window. Snow ghosts, stirred by the gusts of wind, are dancing across the quiet field that once held lush growing soybeans, and a disruptive marestail here and there. The morning sunshine reflected off that frozen pallet is hypnotizing me. I am remembering snowfalls of many years, and I am so thankful for the comforts of home. I hear the laughter and shrieks of children now grown, as they would come inside, leaving their crooked little snowman in the trampled snow of our yard. I remember my brown-eyed boy begging to stay out longer, and our pigtailed girl throwing off the wet mittens and heading for the comfort of our large gas stove. I sigh and pray “thank you” recalling the four-wheel drives into work through ice and snow.

From my childhood, I hear the stomping boots of the rabbit hunters coming in half frozen. Images cross my mind of deserted cedar trees that once held the jewels of Christmas, cast out, bare and lying on snowy banks. I shiver with the ghost of a blizzard my husband and I once drove through to take down a load of dark-fired tobacco from an old one room barn.   I hear an occasional eerie moan of the ghosts from undone plans, as they bring my attention to the present day skeletons still standing in my garden; a stripped sunflower stalk, and tomato vines that cling to the few stakes I never got around to moving. That garden spot is now one with the open field it joins, as if it could never be made a garden again.

A small dry oak leaf scampers across the snow with a life of its own. It looks like the hummingbirds of only a few months ago flitting from one feeder to another. The thoughts of garden and bird almost make me ready for warm weather; but first, I want to enjoy the beauty of this ghostly quiet, peaceful snow day that kind of insulates me from the routine. It is good to be still, and know…and remember the Creator of all this – the snow, the birds, our memories that warm us in the cold days of life – and so much more! Only a blanket of snow can transform a dark stripped landscape into a thing of beauty overnight. “Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalm 46:10

Stay warm friends

This Woman Has Loved!

26 Sunday Nov 2017

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July 17, 2016

As a sprinkle of rain fell through the pergola, drops of evidence on our laps, but not a cloud in sight, Aunt Lorene said, “You know, when they asked if I wanted to be sprinkled, I said ‘No, I want to be completely baptized; fully put under’.”  She then added to me, “and when heaven opens up, I don’t want to be just BARELY there; just barely get in; no, I want to be (with her arms outspread) ALL the way there!” Her eyes were shining. We agreed that a little sprinkle wasn’t enough to drive us off the beautiful porch swing where we sat on that rather warm day. As suddenly as the drops fell, they dissipated and we were given more time to again introduce ourselves to each other. That day she must have asked me a dozen times “now what is your name?” I would tell her again, smiling, that I was Bennie Joe’s older daughter, Patricia. And again, she would exclaim, “Oh, Bennie Joe! We had such good times back then; I just loved him so much! He was just like a son to me!” My daddy was her nephew by marriage, but she never made a difference that I know of between hers and Uncle Veltman’s kinsfolk. I would tell her again how wonderful it was to get to visit with her and hear her laugh, and hold her hand. Visiting with her that day in her daughter’s lovely home is a memory I hold dear.

How appropriate it was to have those sprinkles fall, making her think of baptism, and have the chance as she so loved to do, to profess her love for God and her hope of heaven. I don’t believe it was coincidence that rain began to fall from an invisible sky.  It told me something I had wondered about for years; a spiritual question I had, and she answered it. I have tears now in my eyes remembering how she taught me from childhood to openly speak of my God, and to proclaim my love for Him. However, not I, nor anyone I have ever met, can do that so beautifully as she did. If she ever loved anything, she loved her God!

This woman, Lorene Farmer Jackson sure loved her man! As my memory holds it, she and Uncle Veltman were just about the best example of ‘one woman for one man’ ever! My favorite story of hers is when she told me about Uncle Veltman hurrying to get dressed for church before she could, and waiting outside at the car. She said she asked him one day, just why he insisted on getting out there so early. She said he winked and said “Red, I just like being out here so I can watch the prettiest girl in the world walking out to me”.  That’s about the same time she told me she kept her hair dyed red “because Veltman liked it that way”. Who does their hair to suit their husband??!! A woman who knows how to love, that’s who.

I was her girl. From 1953 until Brenda was born, “Trish” (said with a southern one syllable becoming two), was her girl. At least that’s what she said, and the way she treated me made a believer out of me. But then, wasn’t that the way she made everyone feel? Doilies, mahogany furniture, pretty dishes and marvelous food made her home a place for all to feel welcomed and of regal upbringing. Those are my memories of her Cleveland, Ohio home. That’s where she and her boy Johnnie pulled me in a little wagon to the store down a brick street. I still love brick streets. I love craftsman houses; stairwells with a landing; windows with fans; and Stroodle – a dish she taught my Mama to make. I love all these because they were the elements of a home where I knew this woman loved me. The same way you love anything that you associate with the people of good memories.

Yes, Aunt Lorene loved. What a great way to be remembered.

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November 26, 2017:  I couldn’t write this as long as she was living, most likely because I knew I couldn’t share it with her as her dementia had overridden her memory. Today, the words are flowing freely as she passed from this life last evening. I like to imagine she is able to know now what I am writing, and I think she would say,  “Oooh Trisha, you always were my girl!”  I love you Aunt Lorene.

“So he answered and said, “You shall love the Lord your god with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength and with all your mind’, and ‘your neighbor as yourself.” Luke 10: 27

Inspiration From the Ocean

19 Thursday Oct 2017

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I am not a beach bum, nor am I even a candidate, but here I am, taken in completely by all that the five senses are given to sample. In fact, my body and accessories clearly betray my landlubber’s life. More specifically, the life of a farm dweller, gardener, chief cook and bottle washer has borne the body of anything but a bathing beauty. Yet, there is something so inspiring about the ocean that standing there, I feel my body and soul being swayed and mesmerized. I am suddenly one with the sand, the waves, and the wind. I hear waves of the Spirit speaking, I taste the salty air of desire to never leave, I see a sample of the mighty expanse of creation I’ve only begun to experience. I smell a myriad of odors so unique to the ocean, and I wonder if the incense of world prayers go up in a similar mix. And I feel – oh do we ever feel – warm sand and sun, cool breezes, emotions inexplicable, tickled with the presence of everything out of our ordinary.

At first, I feel terribly heavy and unsteady as I walk in the moving sand. But then it begins to work its magic; the warmth, the designs left by all who’ve touched it, and as the waves roll over my feet I feel myself settling in, anchored by the sand that has shifted around to cradle my feet. Magic. And I wonder, how does it know where to stop, to keep from sweeping all the world right off its feet? In another couple of engulfing waves, my feet begin to feel trapped and I know that it was a false feeling of stability.

I like to sit in one of those short chairs, just barely clearing the sand, you know the ones that some of us find more difficult to get up out of than to drop down into – just in reach of the waves. Some waves reach your feet, cooling, refreshing, tantalizing you to stay and enjoy; to experience the thrill of what treasures may be washed into your hands. Others surprise you and before you know it, you are up to your chest in a splash of salt, sand and shrieks of joy. But evening advances and brings with it higher waters until we gradually become engulfed by the ocean if we don’t move out of its way. A likeness of which we may see in the world as it will surely advance little by little, with pretentious promises of pleasure, shrieking our names, calling us out into it to be drowned in its pride and passions.

How often do we stand amid the world, allowing it to wash over and around us until we are near helpless to pull apart from its hold? Our God, Who created all this foreverness of ocean prevented the waves from joining hands and making one devastatingly powerful wash that would wipe out an entire landscape. He set limits to where the waves may wash. (“Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth and issued from the womb; when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band; when I fixed My limit for it, and set bars and doors; when I said, ‘This far you may come, but no farther, and here your proud waves must stop!’ “ Job 38: 8-11 NKJV) And, He has set boundaries for how much the prince and powers of this world may overtake His people today. (“No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it”. I Cor. 10:13) Aside from how absolutely beautiful these waves are, there is admittedly the potential for ugly brute force. As long as we remember to be “in the world”, (or in the ocean waves), and not be “of the world”, (or to be overcome by the waves), we are safe. People on coastlands are cautioned, though sometimes too late, or unheeded, to move to safer, higher grounds and be saved from the mighty rushing water. And so are we cautioned; our magnificent creator didn’t leave us alone to sink or swim. He handed us the ultimate guide in safety; because He knew we would necessarily as well as by choice, be in the world, just as I simply cannot stay out of the ocean.

In any case, from rising flood waters to the frolicking waves at beach’s edge, there is safety in holding onto something stable, of moving back up the beach, out of the reach of the waves. Likewise, the Saviour lugged the heavy cross of salvation to lift us up out of the world, that we may be in it, able to enjoy the awesome variety and wonders of the natural world, but remain unspotted by the wickedness of it.(Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. James 1:27 ESV) We can be in it, exert influence, help and heal, and by the grace of God, be brought out. Out of satan’s reach, out of the sinking sand, raised to walk on higher ground, by the blood of Jesus, praise His name!

From the song “Sun of my Soul”, words by John Keble (w. 1820):  “…til in the ocean of thy love, we lose ourselves in heaven above.”Resized_20171014_180802