Tag Archives: Lessons learned

Looking Back With 2020 Vision

21 Sunday Mar 2021

Posted by in Life, The unexpected

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    Good Sunday afternoon to you! The weekend found me at my old sunroom desk, enjoying sunshine and the song of birds as they declared their hope and cheer.  I was thinking how it’s been a year since I realized COVID 19 would infiltrate every nook and cranny of this country along with the rest of the world. The Murray Ledger & Times reported last week was the one-year anniversary for the first diagnosed case of the coronavirus in Calloway County. Like everyone else, I am thinking back over the year, weighing the lessons and difficulties we have all faced. Part of me wants to just move on and never look back, with gratitude for the vaccination process and for another decrease in cases. The other part of me actually needs to look back and hope the year counted for something. It’s always best to count our gains – always count your blessings – but somehow acknowledging the losses, the trials we’ve lived through and survived, makes us feel stronger and actually hopeful. Hopeful that ills can be healed, lies can be disproven, and I can get out of my pajamas before noon. (Didn’t want this to get too serious!  It’s a beautiful day.)

    Most of us have had plenty of time to ponder plans for this new year, to clean out cabinets and cobwebs, and to just be still without feeling guilty. I’ve gotten really good at that last one. In fact, I may have to put it on my negative list because I am literally afraid I’ll never again be as productive as I was. It’s probably best I’ll never know if it was just my age, or the fault of COVID 19. 

    I like seeing some of the “lessons I’ve learned” and “people I admire” lists that came out of the extremely weird year. It wasn’t just the coronavirus. From February tornados to scary diagnoses and odd occurrences, it has been anything but dull since late January 2020. Obviously, there has been true tragedy and deeper grieving for many to endure over the past twelve months; my sympathy to all. For today though, I am thinking of lessons learned over the course of Covid. As I’m in the minority who didn’t deal with home schooling, my woes will be different from yours, and yours different from someone else as well. I’d love to see your lists of 2020 pros and cons. Here are a few of mine.

    The first few weeks we were learning to adjust while trying not to feel different; also learning ‘normal’ cannot be overrated. Get up, get dressed, get out; hmmmm, where would we go? OK, get up, get dressed, stay in. Eventually necessity drove us out and I became the designated driver, so to speak, to run the required errands for two households. Noticing all the other helpful hands and wheels enforced my belief that Calloway County is a great place to live – the best! I learned that making 20 or 30 masks for a children’s hospital and for family, was easier than sitting down to make one or two for myself. I discovered keeping spare masks in my purse, glove box, and coat pockets did nothing to prevent my panic each time I almost walked into a store without one.  I learned through YouTube videos that ‘easy’ is a subjective word! No wonder folks were paying six dollars for a fifty cent piece of fabric and elastic! Then proudly displaying them on rearview mirrors.

    I also learned: the real important stuff in life I took for granted; like toilet tissue,  hand sanitizer, canning lids and visits from my children. Especially those visits!

    I need to spend more money on pjs.

    I don’t need to eat breakfast each time I wake up throughout the day. 

    I am not the “one-way-arrow-on-Kroger’s-floor” police. 

    I have absolutely no barber skills!

     I will never again wonder why a generation turned so violent; have you paid much attention to Gunsmoke? Would a duel between Matt Dillon and Frank Barone be out of line? 

    I feel like, for the first time ever, I know our Governor personally. 

    I cannot blame a lack of time for unfinished projects; I simply start too many of them. And a fresh coat of paint is a miracle worker.

    Online shopping and grocery pickup is addictive.

    Good coffee is worth whatever it costs.

    Most people are real; real people are good.

    Life is too short to be fake.

    Some things I missed most: hugs from my great nieces and nephews; hugs at church;  Thursday morning breakfasts out. Bunco.

    What I’ve accepted:  I am a home-body; I like it, always did, always will.

    Home cooking is worth the trouble and I’m a pretty good cook.

    I can’t fix the world’s ills but I can pray for them and crying is good for the soul.

    I will never forget: the importance of people to one another. Social distancing has its place, but isolation can be worse than the threat of a virus. 

    Even home-bodies love and need phone-friends.

    2020 certainly wasn’t perfect, but it may very well have improved our vision!

    Don’t Go With The Flow

    26 Monday Oct 2020

    Posted by in Encouragement, MONDAY MUSINGS, Uncategorized

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    With social distancing in place, our seats in worship are anywhere we find a vacant spot. Today it was the balcony. At the end of service, we exited with the crowd, moving along fluidly; again, minimizing contact due to Covid 19. My mind was on the people I saw and heard. Some I hadn’t spoken to in months – again due to the swiftness of exit, the masks and different seating – and some I’d love to get a hug from; and then the snippets of conversations and wondering about the rest of their stories.

    A word of caution: reading the following may cause one to dread aging. Don’t judge until you’re there:)

    As we entered the vestibule at the bottom of the stairs, we fell into the flow of those coming from the auditorium toward the exit or other classrooms. As my husband paused at the trash can to leave our communion packaging, he whispered “Is that it?” Assuming he meant was that all he needed to discard, I nodded affirmative and we were swept on through the commons area and out the door. Concern for a troubled stranger in our midst gave us added distraction from the norm. Not a bad thing; in fact, I realize we enter and exit worship far too often on auto-pilot and need a little extra stimulus to ponder our plot in life. But I digress.

    As he started our car, my husband again questioned me, “So we aren’t having class again?” Class. Oh. Class! Suddenly I realized I’d gone with the flow of folks and completely forgotten about Sunday School! Had I been entertaining purposeful thinking, I’d have realized he was asking at the trash can if we were leaving. Duh. Feeling kinda foolish I opted for continuing on our way home instead of walking back inside, against the flow. Now, this isn’t about a virus, nor precautions, nor even about Sunday school attendance. It’s about the difference purposeful thinking makes in whether we go with the flow, take another route, or step aside and hold our place until we’re good to go. (Maybe it’s somewhat about absent mindedness too, which I’ve been accused of before.)

    How might we have altered our outcome? Two ways; one, take another route. There’s a side hall to step into from the balcony stairs and through it, we would have many doors of opportunity to enter the auditorium for class without interrupting the smooth flow of traffic. The other option would be to wait; taking time to watch from a distance as our brothers and sisters moved in tandem toward the door. We could then make our way to our auditorium class minus the mass exit.

    In life as well, it feels natural to go with the flow. But what is popular may not be best. The path of least resistance is easier, but it doesn’t build strength. The crowd’s concerns are not likely matched to your cares, nor can you see the signs ahead if lost in the crowd. Or, my leg of the journey may need further planning, mapping; perhaps I need to reenter the destination in my GPS. Purposeful thinking – looking ahead at desired outcomes – may cause us to divert our direction, or press the pause button.

    Diversion may find us taking a side road less traveled where we can experience new opportunity to bless and be blessed. By the way, diversion can also force the enemy from the principle point of operation, where he expects us to be following mindlessly. It brings to mind the words from Matthew 7: 13-14, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (NIV) Not a very popular thought, but those words are from the mouth of Jesus. I need to put that in my Garmin.

    Pressing the pause button as well, just might be a gap of opportunity in which we see others instead of self; where we can refuel; time to regroup. This is a good time to recall God’s word. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 6:10 NKJV)

    So, we missed Sunday class, but I learned a lesson. I’ll listen with purposeful thinking when my husband asks a question. (OK, I will try.) And if I don’t want to swim back upstream, I better divert my direction ahead of time, or wait patiently when purposeful thought says, “You do not want to go with the crowd”.

    “You comprehend my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.” Psalm 139:3 NKJV

    That Old Cat

    13 Monday Jan 2020

    Posted by in Reflections

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    With all the illness and losses that plagued our friends and family through the past summer and fall, it didn’t seem appropriate that I lament publicly about an old cat wearing out. Now, winter is hard on everybody at some level, and having to bury anyone, even a pet, in the cold is just terribly unpleasant, not even counting the sorrow of loss. Since summer, the year has been hard on the pet population in our family. Our son, our daughter, a niece and we ourselves have each lost a pet. So, indulge me please as I talk about that old cat. One gray evening I drove into our driveway with this in my vision. My husband, who would certainly not want to be labeled ‘soft’ was on his backhoe across the road, digging a little grave because he knew I was on my way home from the veterinarian’s office with my old gray cat who’d taken his last trip home. We laid him wrapped in his soft camo blanket under an oak tree where he had played and hunted many a day. I wrote most of the following on that evening.

    December 2019:  In the red glow of a winter sunset, I say goodbye to my friend of ten and a half years. Mr. Gray Kitty was the world’s best mouser and mole catcher ever. He appeared on my front porch the week of my mother’s funeral with one eye open and the other still closed. Now, how a new kitten could have found our five-block high porch from who knows where, is anybody’s guess. I gave up asking who placed him there, as everyone seemed as stumped as I. His first look at me sent him diving off the end of the porch into the shrubs, only to scale the wall a few hours later and then repeat the routine three or four more times. By the third day of placing a small dish of cat food under the shrubs, it became clear that he preferred diving and hiding over human contact. The second time my husband (yeh the tough guy) heard a meow followed by my denial of any cat ownership, he said, “OK, if you’re gonna keep it, get it fixed and get it’s shots.” And so Mr Gray became a member of our family. Funny how these four legged creatures never have to say a word; they just move in.

    Mr. Gray kept me occupied that summer with orienting him to our house… or perhaps he oriented me to the world of cat lovers, and bossed his way into my heart. Cantankerous and funny, he came within an inch of his furry life more than once by killing my birds, but as they say, he WAS a cat. I finally attached two bells to his collar to give the birds a heads up that they were being stalked. Calling him in for the night was easier too, as I could hear the jungle jingle while he trotted in from the field to sleep in the garage, usually on top of my car, mountain lion style. I still smile at the memory of his mad dash out when the doors were opened in the morning, after which he would pause, look around as if embarrassed to say, “well, I don’t know what the rush is, nothing has changed”. As a hunter, he was amazing. Our garage was his trophy case. No sooner did we remove one headless prey, than he would deposit another. Mice, moles, rats, snakes, frogs, baby rabbits (I know, sad) and unfortunately birds, were all too slow for that old cat. Too quick for us as well, one minute he was rubbing our legs, purring for petting, and the next he was leaving scars on our arms. As the senior pet, he was much too cool to welcome the puppy. Eventually he was following, from a cool distance of course, when we took our afternoon walks. He had to admit hide and seek was fine as long a he could hide and pounce.

     

    Finally, too old and sick to go on living, his hunts are over. I now bury him at the time of day he would be coming in to tell us he is still king hunter, and looking for his Temptations treats. I will miss his little freckled nose.

    If there’s a moral to this, and I’m not sure there is (I just wanted to tell you about that old cat) then the moral might be this. Animals do not come in touting all their accomplishments nor proclaiming their worth. Whatever it is they are supposed to do, they just move in and do it; guarding, hunting, cuddling, whatever they find to do, they do it with all their hearts. Not a word of our language, yet they show great loyalty and return our care with love unlimited.

    “And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ.” (Colossians 3:23-34) NKJV

    NICE DAY, Part 4: Angry Words Do Not Make Nice Days!

    06 Monday May 2019

    Posted by in Children, MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections

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    I think the first child’s antics are more surprising because young parents have no idea! No. Idea. At that stage, we haven’t even counted as high as the number of emotions, trials, and tests we’re about to encounter. Everything your first baby says and does is amazing and funny because, hey, you haven’t heard it before. And no matter how many others do the same things, you still laugh, because it really is funny! I never get tired of remembering ours, and hearing about others’ memories as well. While remembering the cute things kids have done and said is heart warming and good, I wonder if I am the only one who may once in a while, find those memories followed by an unpleasantness that doesn’t belong there. I’ll explain later.

    Our son was our first born, surprising us one evening with an early labor, in breech position, arriving at 9:20 PM. He has been a late nighter ever since, and a late riser as well, so the sun was always up before he was. Even still, the bed and breakfast were about all he wanted of the house. As soon as he was tall enough to see out the window, he checked the weather first, and then would report to me, “It’s a shine-shiny day out, Mama!” Interpretation: I want to go outside. See, what this kid knew was that the indirect approach worked so much better that the direct. A bedtime fighter, he found any excuse he could to resist bedtime routine. I had to pin him to the floor to brush his teeth, while he sputtered, “But my lips are reflexive!”, followed by “I wanna watch Gonny Cawson (Johnny Carson)! As if! When he wanted to go fishing a few years later,  rather than beg to go, he tied a construction paper fish to a stick and held it out the door as I was coming inside. Written on it was “I got an itchin’ to go fishin’!” Sly little dude. Next came fifth grade, with Mrs. Pittman’s rule of  ‘no locker opens after class starts’…did I mention he procrastinated other things as well as bedtime? To see Dora Pittman tell this is quite funny, as she slides one arm slowly back, leaning ever so slyly toward an imaginary locker to retrieve a book that should have been out of there before the bell rang! Some 30 years later, she still calls him her ‘locker boy’.

    Yes, memories are fun…but sometimes it gets painful. There’s a little black-caped masked demon about an inch tall that occasionally comes slinking into the picture of a good memory, and it’s name is Regret. I hate that imp! He messes with my mind, and if I give him any attention, he starts growing until he is bigger than the picture. That’s the unpleasantness I was referring to earlier. I’m guessing there is a trigger for almost anyone to be reminded of their failures, for we all have some sort of regrets I’ve been told. For me, the trigger is remembering my kids’ childhood which makes me ask, why is such an awesome responsibility placed into the hands of the inexperienced?? Now, I know most of you were nauseatingly good, patient, creative parents; I mistakenly thought I was at the time. Let me just cut through the chase and bare my blisters: CHILDREN WERE NOT MADE TO BE YELLED AT. There. That is my regret. I grasped at the details and missed the big beautiful picture. Math problems, tooth brushing and choosing which toy to take, should never be a source of pain or anxiety. These everyday life things can create havoc, or heaven. The things that we think must be done should never override patience and gentleness. I was given the most precious gifts on earth, and I let them and the Giver down when I lost control and yelled. Mamas and Daddies, no one else would tolerate our ill tempered yelling, so why dish it out on the very ones who love and trust us to be their Rock? Seriously, they need more good memories, not more math; calm evenings more than clean teeth; and the time it took to choose which truck to take with him could have been spent planning supper, or tickling him into a decision. I wonder how many times he was about to make a choice when I again, called “would you come on now!” Oh how that dastardly bandit Regret can run off with your fun! But, God is good, and has forgiven me. My children say there’s nothing to forgive or forget; they say they had a great childhood. The problem lies within where forgiveness does not come easily for ourselves. I’m working on it, but I still hate those angry words that messed up good days.

    “If a person thinks himself to be religious and does not bridle his own tongue, but deceives his own heart, his religion is useless.” (James 1:26)

    Lest I leave the impression that I was a total monster, I do have a memory of handling things well. This son of ours has an artist streak in him that was once used on the refrigerator, in crayon. I actually had a roll of film in the Kodak, and it makes a cute photo when a toddler is cleaning the refrigerator in his training pants. I think he was as proud of his job of removing the masterpiece as he was of making it.

    cleaning up artwork
    sneaking M&Ms

    Happy Monday, stay calm, and make it a nice day! Go ahead and sneak a few M&Ms:)

     

     

     

    NEW YORK CITY: The Trip is Over, What A Time We Had!

    10 Monday Dec 2018

    Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections, The unexpected

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    As much as I would like to report on all the fabulous fun we had (and I will in coming weeks) on a recent trip to NYC, there is one topic that is squeezing its way through first – just like New Yorkers do! Or were those the tourists??? I have so many interesting things to talk about, and this week’s blog is a serious one;  the one I’ve thought about most, so I begin with a foggy, misty Sunday afternoon, Dec 2, 2018. It is a bit long, but trust me, the boat will reach the harbor, and I believe it will be a thought-provoking ride.

    LIBERTY SHROUDED IN A FOG OF MISUNDERSTANDING

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    One week ago I had the privilege of being on board a boat that shuttles tourists through  upper New York Bay to visit Ellis Island, where stands the former chief United States immigration station. Knowing we would be passing Liberty Island and viewing that grand old crowned lady with her torch extended to the world, gave me goosebumps! I could hardly wait, straining my neck and eyes for the first glimpse of her immense presence. As we approached a body of land shrouded in a fog, I began to realize that our day of rainy weather would indeed dampen my long-awaited experience. In the distance I could barely see a pedestal similar to the pictures I had seen of that upon which stands the statue named Liberty Enlightening the World, or, the Statue of Liberty. The nearer we moved toward Ellis Island, and coming alongside Liberty Island, the clearer her outline became, until at last from her back side we were able to see the green of her bronze and the light within her torch. The crown on her head was not as clear but oh, how excited I was just to see that torch! Mixed feelings flooded my heart about immigration, homeland, and liberty.

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    Once inside Ellis Island’s station, I felt almost transmigrated myself into another time and person. The steamer trunks, instruments of medical examination, and articles of interrogation were just plain foreign to me. As I listened to the recordings, and imagined myself in those immigrants’ places, I felt so much sympathy for their sufferings and fears that I cannot adequately put it into words. The statue in her misty fog made a striking symbol that day of some of the emotions and happenings of those days. “Liberty shrouded in a fog of misunderstanding” came from my mouth as I had my first glimpse of Liberty. Little did I know that I would feel even more so after learning more of the immigration experiences.

    I keep wondering who was so forgetful of his own or his ancestors’ infancy to the new world, that he could exert what we today deem cruel and unusual treatment of those who followed. The closest I’ve ever come  (and it doesn’t even compare really) to what they may have felt as they entered the great hall of importation, is the shoulder to shoulder crowd on the New York sidewalks with a din of foreign languages, taxi horns blaring, and the sun so hidden by towering buildings that I couldn’t tell east from west. People who know where they are going run over you who may pause, to wonder where you are going. If not with friends and a fearless leader, what could I have seen?Confusion. Fear. Misunderstanding. Those were the three big realities when people looking for a life of liberty, were met with the very opposite of liberty. “The ability or opportunity to act in accordance with one’s own wishes or without repression or restraint by authority.” That is one of several definitions for ‘liberty’ in Funk & Wagnalls Standard College Dictionary. The fog of misunderstanding that filled those halls cloaked the immigrants’ hope in a shroud of fear, rejection for some, pain, hunger and loneliness rather than the liberty and freedom they desired. One woman’s story was that she and her siblings came to America with their mother who had always had one black fingernail. She said “my mother had raised all of us and was never ill and had always had that black fingernail; we’d thought nothing of it!” Due to that one black fingernail, the mother was rejected and sent back to her country of origin, parted from her children, and the voice of that one telling her story quivered after all those years, with sorrow of growing up without her momma.

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    After moving from room to room, being told via the audio equipment about hundreds of experiences,  I returned to the great hall, and rested on the very benches where immigrants sat long ago in a state of anticipation, inside a bubble of disorientation. Oh, by the way, if one had a “dazed and disoriented” look, he or she would be sent for a psychiatric evaluation,  having just come through the fog of travel into an unknown future, quizzed by someone who didn’t speak the same language, and answering through an interpreter. Dazed? I’d say so!

    Well, not all was lost, of course. There were also some stories of unusually kind social workers, nurses, and an occasional immigration official who extended courtesy. Many were successfully poked and prodded into the world of progress, America by name. As President John F. Kennedy said, “Everywhere immigrants have enriched and strengthened the fabric of American life.”  How often do we stop to think,  would I be here at all if not for the immigration of some ancestors who made this their home, met another, and here I am – a little Irish, a lot English, and like everyone else, I like to think I am a fraction Native American too. That makes us feel a little less like intruders. Would those ancestors say it was worth it? I can’t imagine. But to go through the trauma, even today, of transferring your life into the face of another culture must be daunting to say the least; so what they are running from, well, must be pretty bad.

    We’ve heard it said that with freedom comes responsibility. Parents love to recite that to their children, and for good reason. At no time has liberty been free. There are prices to pay. I mentioned earlier that I have mixed feelings about immigration. I’m just being honest here; not politically correct. I see both sides of the issue. As a Christian I can’t support shutting anyone out of a better life. On the other hand, I do not enjoy knowing our country is becoming more crowded every day; I am insulted by some of the attitudes and changes being etched into, or should I say eroding, our country’s standards; and I do wonder why people flee their own homes rather than staying to band together and make home a better place to live. That’s because I have never worn their shoes. Newcomers to this country were willing to dig in and make a living, shoulder the responsibilities of making a great nation, and earned the privilege of being an American. Somewhere along the line, we stopped holding that view. I do not know if I am shrouded by that fog of misunderstanding, or if immigrants-to-be are blinded by the word ‘liberty’ so that they do not understand the responsibility on leaders of a nation to protect its people. There must be some governing laws, or criteria by which immigration does not compromise the safety of a people. I believe God, the creator of the universe, teaches open arms. But also He teaches that once we escape the oppression of sin, we are not to return to the same. Likewise, if people are able to escape the oppression of one country, they must not become slaves to the oppressions of dependency, hatred and crime. I pray that those who are greeted by the Statue of Liberty, or any harbor of the USA, find people who are willing to teach, listen, and work together. In nursing, we sometimes say, “see one, do one, teach one” so that all are brought on board as equals. No one cares if your brass has tarnished, nor whether your crown shines, as long as you’re extending a torch of welcome, lighting the way.

    It was enlightening for sure to learn of the past immigration process which, like our country, has evolved over time. I did not take time to tour the evolution of that process, because I couldn’t pull myself away from the history of it.  What I came away with however, was more important. That is, to be aware of the fog we can enter which may obscure our vision, be informed, be kind, and be responsible in our liberties.

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    Fishing Line and HE Washing Machines

    05 Wednesday Apr 2017

    Posted by in Children, inspiration, Nature

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    I must be one of the most hard-headed people I know! How many times have I instructed family members to empty out their pockets before adding clothes to the  hamper? And yet here I am – pulling out clothes, my clothes, with fishing line tied around each piece. Even in my 6th decade of life, I am so much in the learning phase. Can you identify? Please say I am not the only one who acts without thinking, or takes on a task without planning ahead. Whatever you want to call it, action without forethought usually has regret attached. The fishing line was a partial spool I tucked into my jacket pocket two days ago just incase I broke a line. But in my washer, it was as big a problem as all the tissue particles that covered my jackets, jeans, and my husband’s socks. Now, with the line wound back around the plastic piece, and the dryer taking care (I hope) of the remaining tissue, I am reminded of a few things. One, is how little fragments escape our internal library of ‘lesson learned’; also, how grace is bigger than regret; and third, we sure can haul in more than fish when we go fishing!

    Saturday was a beautiful day and I had the privilege of spending it with an eleven and a half year old “Little Man” who calls me Aunt Pat. We met on the day of his birth, and that’s another story. How did he get to be so grown up so soon? I have two children of my own, adults who grew up at the speed of light even though I tried to hold onto every hour. We know they do that, right? Yet don’t we still put off things we meant to do with our loved ones, believing ‘some days’ will get here before the ‘too lates’? I’ve known for at least 6 fishing years that this little fellow would someday know whether or not I was really fishing, or just out there to enjoy the great outdoors and let him think he was fishing. My husband had bought two new poles, the modern metal version of a cane pole which came with hook, line and sinker. Really! All I had to do was tie the line onto the end of the pole after extending it the full 13 feet. Well, that just looked like too much line, so my young assistant Ryan and I cut it with the clippers in his nicely stocked tackle box, and the remainder went into my pocket. Had I thought to figure out ahead how to use this pole still wrapped in plastic after a year(!), or restock my son’s melted, stinky contents of his old tackle box? No, that would just be too easy, I say with a smirk. To keep this from being too long, let me just say that Ryan is now fully aware of Aunt Pat’s fishing deficits. I’d say he knew that when I had to call my dad to see what the bass would be biting, and then had to borrow that green lizard from Ryan. A good sport about sharing his bait, he also didn’t laugh when my self-cut line didn’t quite reach the center of our pond. We threw back my first little fish, and he caught a couple nice ones with his spinner bait on a rod and reel. Good job! Not to be completely humiliated, I patiently kept trying and did add the third catch to our supper plans.

    Did I mention taking on a task without planning? Have you cleaned and prepared fresh fish lately, with a spoon and a dull paring knife? (Thank you Ryan’s parents for stocking his box with a fish scaler!) Next time, I may consider Ryan’s first idea of throwing them all back! But oh no, I was going to have fresh fish for supper – over a fire yet! The end result was grilled fish, bone in, over charcoal; delicious for all except Ryan who thought hotdogs looked more appetizing. The fire pit was fun for him to start but not in time to cook (who forgot to bring the firewood over?) except to roast marshmallows for dessert.

    Several times throughout our day, I mentioned things like “what a beautiful day God made” or “I’m sure God knew when He created this or that….” We decided to bury the fish heads and entrails in my garden which I said would thank God for our catch by fertilizing the ground. I hope when Ryan remembers our time together, he recalls that Aunt Pat gave credit to God for all things good. I hope I remember what I really caught: good memories and good lessons. Those are, first, when I forgot to check my pockets, it ‘tied up’ some time so to speak, so I need to remember the lessons of the Lord’s Word, which saves many hardships over going it our own way. In Proverbs we read, “My son, do to forget my law, but let your heart keep my commands; for length of days and long life and peace they will add to you.” (Proverbs 3:1) My second thought was that I wasn’t fully prepared but my friend Ryan had what I needed. Jesus knows our every weakness, and oh, what a friend we have in Jesus! Paul wrote to the church at Galatia “Grace to you and peace from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father.” (Galatians 1:3-4) Last, my methods weren’t the best, but with patience I caught a fish. So, I’ll try to be patient, wait on the Lord, and be supplied. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” (Psalm 23:1)

    I’m sure glad Ryan wasn’t watching today as I pulled the extra line out of my washer. I’m glad God was, and enables me to share some lesson reminders. Even without a great deal of planning, the day was packed with fun and blessings, some of which were sunshine, laughter, friends and family, a hawk soaring over the trees, geese honking, and the reward of delicious food shared with loved ones. With my lack of preparation, I didn’t deserve such a good day. With our human error, missing the mark, we sure do not deserve all that God has done for us, but we have opportunity to receive anyway. Because he loves us.

    I felt almost guilty using my son’s tackle box, because I didn’t make the time, nor find the know-how to take him fishing when he was little; and he sure turned out great anyway. Those ‘somedays’ I mentioned slipped by me and were followed by regret. However, I am thankful for the grace of loving forgiving hearts, and second chances. So when I mess up and leave tissues and fishing line in my pockets, I need to extend that grace to a certain family member who does the same. Even if I let busy-ness crowd out time to call my loved ones and spend more time with them, God keeps giving me more. More time, more opportunities. I am eternally thankful for them all, and I want to seize that time before there is no more, to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. (Micah 6:8) I want to grab the opportunities to soar above the storms with wings growing stronger as I wait for the Lord to work in my life. (Isiah 40:31) More than anything else, I am thankful that He forgives when we forget to do life His way, and that He keeps putting more blessings on my hook than I could ever imagine hauling in.

    It just occurred to me that if I’d had my old agitator washer instead of this high-efficiency washer that I’ve complained about so much, I’d have been in a much worse mess of tangled fishing line! Small favors!