The Message

I got a message from someone today. He has a wonderful way with words and I adore the way he sees life. I find when we chat he takes my emotions from one extreme to the other. One minute in tears of sadness, the other - tears of joy.

And so he goes...

"There's a song by Neil something or whatever the lyrics go 'old man, take a look at my life I'm a lot like you were...do do doommmm do do doommmm - his guitar riff.

Anywho, I always heard that song back when I was younger. Didn't make a lot of sense to me until later. I was in my apartment in Stephenville and I walked into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and I saw my dad. It made me stop and blink and I realized I was seeing my own reflection. But it made me realize I am my father's son.

I see a lot of him in myself. I work non-stop without breaks and almost kill myself sometimes. I remember doing that with my dad. We'd cut, stack, cut, stack, split and stack the same log pile all day. We worked until we were done. I do that now without thinking. There's other things I realize like he pushed me so hard because he saw potential.

Gabe, Mike, Sean and other people see it too. I don't most of the time. Because I don't want to. Things seem hard until you are done. Then you realize how easy it was. 'The only wrong step you can take is the one you don't take'.

I still have issues with that. I don't want to step in the wrong direction and have to fix it later. but I'm working on that"

...ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell it's true.

What Have You Done

Each June, as school lets out, what I face are long summer days just waiting for adventure and as each September comes, all too soon, I face the same question - 'what have you done'.

hmmm

This year I made my usual list but as June got closer new items were added to the list leaving me wondering how to fit them all in. Each with equal importance to me.

Everything from making a quilt for the first time, working in my garden, rebuilding an old friendship, trips to Yakima and California,to spending as much quality time with my sons as possible.
Lots of tid bits in between but you get the picture.

In those things and extras, I wonder - will I have done anything that is worthy of the Lord? Will I spend too much time checking things off of lists and miss loving others enough? Will I have sacrificed enough? Will I have been selfless? Will I slow down enough to notice others, to show mercy and grace when there is opportunity to do so? And will my children see Jesus in me?

The quilt, cards, garden and small things I make this summer are important to me but the things I do and the time I spend with the people I come in contact with, will it all be pleasing to the Lord?

When September comes rolling in, I may look back over the summer months and think that I did not do, love, give and sacrifice enough. But if through it all I believe that God is pleased with my attempts and efforts - then all is well.

Hiding or Protecting

I was watering my strawberry patch this morning and realized that the delicious fruit I pick each day is hiding under the leaves supported by tall stems.

Is the fruit being protected or is it hiding. I wondered

Do I keep my fruit ... love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control...hidden and unused?

If you have a gift but keep it wrapped up, what value is it then?

Do I keep an invisible shield about myself in self-protection or do I allow the Lord to cover me with His wings ..."and under His wings you will find refuge."

Moving My Cheese

If you come to tell me about changes taking place in your life, your world, I will give you great advice on handling it.

I don't listen to my advice. I am a giver not a taker :)

I saw the signs of change coming. They were small and I enjoyed them.

Are you on the edge of wondering what changes I might have been going through? Have you been already going through your memory of past changes in your life and identifying with me?

Just to let you know, it is my favorite store that is making the changes. It is the store I do 90% of my shopping at. Changes in the direction of the shelving units was minor. Changes in the width of the aisles was pleasing. Changes in the location of one or two products was acceptable.

Saturday morning I left early with one of my sons to do the bi-monthly grocery shopping. It requires two carts so having someone along is helpful. I made a shopping list up for him to speed things up.

I warned him on the way that there were some changes in the location of some products on his list but not to worry. It will simply take him a little longer than the norm.

We each took a cart and headed off in separate directions.

I had not even gotten through the first portion of my list when I stopped in the middle of an aisle. I looked down at my organized list, I looked at the aisle. I did that several times before I finally just stood there and for the first time, I fully began to take in the changes. I had been warned. There had been small subtle changes not to mention the posted signs.

It was one of those things where I did not want the change to happen. However, I thought I was ready and could handle any changes.

Needless to say, I vented verbally but with tact, through the rest of the shopping morning to customers, employees and even the bags of dog food. The dogs on the packaging looked eager to listen.

Once my son completed his portion of the shopping list he joined me. He heard my frustration as I vented. He saw my angry eyebrows. Then he began telling me what he needed to do about the situation using video game references, I knew I had made a huge mistake. What kind of training up by model had I just done for him?

Ahem - if only to be like on Fairly Odd Parents and 'redo'.

Can't take it back but I can try to mend. And so I did, on the way home I stated a disclaimer making him laugh. Then we began talking about how the store changes related to other changes in our lives and how we can each in our own unique way, appropriately handle change when it comes our way.

It was a Walton moment. The drive is actually 40 minutes long so it was more like a 40 Walton moments but who is counting?

I was in a training class through my work several years back. It was based on the book Who Moved My Cheese. You can see I benefited and retained much from the class :)

Job positions change. Church exchanged the pews for tables and chairs. Winter was filled with more snow days than this state has experience in over 60 years. Children grow up and move away. Wrinkles drop from clouds and stick to my forehead.

I can't stop change. Neither can you, unless you use the video game method my son suggested which would in reality, stop the world from turning, we would all die so who then would be left to care about change.

It is I who has to change with the change.

bummer - unless you are a caterpillar about to change into a butterfly....

Changes

"They don't drive like everyone else."



That could be a compliment. Would you take it as such if the person talking were referring to you?

In this case the person I was referring to was not you but in kindness to my family I will not mention exactly who. It was a relative. Complimentary category - This person did have a unique way of driving. It was certainly an adventure and certainly healthy for my heart because it was racing and I was sweating so then also it was a good work out too. All in all, must have been a great riding experience.

If only I had been in the drivers seat.

I visit a relative in another state every other year or so. The city they live in is one I am familiar with having lived there for many years before making my home in Washington. The relative insisted this one year that there were many changes that had taken place and wanted me to go for a ride and see.

Ok then. Not a bad idea for a sunny afternoon, especially if the ride will take us past my favorite donut shop.

Up and down familiar streets, in and out of two different cities. Yes, things had changed, only not quite as the relative pointed out.

Here is an example: As we drove down a main street they pointed out to me an apartment building that was newly built. No, that building has been there for over 15 years but your driving in the bike lane is something new...

I kept that to myself out of kindness but mostly I was pondering the situation and possible danger I found myself in.

The street that the mall is on has a new row of palm trees. No, but driving against traffic on the wrong side of the island with the palm trees is something new...

I continued my silence. It was hard to keep a firm grip on the arm rest while brain storming in my mind how to get us back home safely. I also kept an eye out for the Candid Camera crew.

Another change I might mention here is the permanent finger grips on the door handle where I was sitting. I think my prayers were so strong but silently delivered, that they too will have some sort of permanency in their car. For the rest of that vacation I opted out of any tours of the city or shopping trips. Be sure that the trip planned for this year involves my renting a car at the airport before heading to their home. I then will park behind their car in the driveway, thus having to use my car, thus my driving, on any mini trips we might be embarking on.

I should have known from the first day of my arrival that year that something was not quite right. I was to spend the day with another relative and not having a car available I asked them to drive me to the location. We had a fender bender. Once they saw the street we were to turn on - you guessed it - THEY TURNED. Only problem with that was they turned from the driving lane not the turn lane where there was already a car attempting to make a proper turn.

I still recall the conversation with their insurance agent. In exasperation, my relative explained that some crazy person made the turn the same time they did, hooking their bumpers, and why they would do something like that, they would never understand. :)

hmmm They don't drive like everyone else.

thank you Jesus

Sometimes I feel alone,
adrift on the sea of life,
longing for the day,
I would not be.

It seems I'm often all alone,
longing not to be.

Do-Hickeys

The dishwasher. Funny as it is, when I attempt to open the dishwasher to put plates, cups or silverware inside, it opens right up for me. Even that little do-hickey you put a soap pad inside and slide it shut, works when I use it.

Crazy thing - when my sons make their way with dishes in hand to the dishwasher, the door won't open so they are forced to put the dishes on the counter ABOVE the machine. I am certain they feel badly about the whole thing.

The other do-hickey you slide a roll of toilet paper on. The boys have their own bathroom with a do-hickey that randomly refuses a new roll of toilet paper. How do I know that? When I go in there I often find a roll of toilet paper on the counter ABOVE the do-hickey. I then replace the toilet paper for them and at that point in time, it works!


Could it be their hands are too wet from washing them? I know they are fine young men and always wash their hands before leaving the bathroom. So perhaps out of courtesy they don't replace the toilet paper with the chance of having a bit of moisture still on their hands and then transferring that to the new roll. What sweet considerate sons I have raised.

Dad Watching and Memories

It was what I did.

Dad didn't talk much. When he did, YOU BETTER LISTEN!

He wasn't home much - always out to sea.

When he came home (in port), we kids would wait for the appointed time and gather on the living room floor waiting for dad and his suitcase. Dad always brought gifts home from overseas for us. No reason in particular, just because. I never asked, maybe it was his way of saying he missed us or he thought of us while he was gone.

One year it was more memorable than the others. Each of us three girls got a beautiful carved wooden jewelry box from Bangkok. Each shelf was lined with green patterned satin. There was a secret drawer in the bottom. It too was lined.

That is where I kept it. 'It' was what came the following year. A necklace from another overseas trip. An open gold heart with a stone of jade hanging in the middle. I rarely wore it. It felt more precious to me in the secret drawer. There was something about having pieces of my dad together - in one place where I could touch and view anytime the mood came. The necklace and jewelry box were more a symbol of acceptance and acknowledgment to me from my dad that I was growing up, no longer his little girl.

I was always glad when he was home from overseas. I'm not sure why though. We didn't play board games. He didn't tell me Navy stories. I was always curious about the man who silently came and went. I never understood his relationship with my mom, they didn't talk either, at least I never heard them talk. That was the marriage relationship model I took with me.

I remember the view of dad from the kitchen screen door as he worked on the family car..yes the Pink Rambler. I had a sense he did not want company so I stayed put. I also had a sense he knew I was there. I don't know if he enjoyed my form of company or not. I know I did.

It was stolen moments like this I cherished. Times when I watched my dad work on projects in silence.

You know I don't like c a m p i n g. I have a hard time even saying the word. However, surely we all can find one good thing from every bad moment or event. For me, the good camping memory was Snoopy. My dad was artistic among other talents. I watched from a distance while he did a free hand painting of the Charlie Brown dog on the back of our camper. Snoopy was happy and dancing. I guess dad thought camping was fun.

poor guy

Or Not

Julie, Sheryl and I were heading to Spokane for a ladies weekend conference. I was appropriately dressed to arrive at our hotel destination with semi dress shoes, nice jeans and semi dress blouse.

What was I thinking?

What I had been thinking was the word safe. After all, Sheryl was with us and Julie will not be wanting to attempt any uncharted, unplanned adventures on this purposeful drive.

Vantage has a beautiful Wild Horse Monument viewpoint. You need to know that now in order to keep up with Julie's thinking.

I assumed it was a rest stop when Julie suddenly took an exit off the freeway. I didn't mind, I had been drinking coffee all morning and could use a 'coffee break'.

I was riding shot gun. Sheryl was in behind me. The car stopped. I saw a few cars. I saw a few people. I saw no restroom. I saw no Honey Buckets.

Hmmmm

I dropped the visor to expose the mirror and make eye contact with Sheryl to see if she was aware of what was gong on. Nope. I searched her eyes, they were as blank as mine.

"Julie, Julie, Julie, when will this end?"

"Let's give it a try. It's not a far walk," said Julie as she reached around the seat for her hiking boots.

Sheryl and I got out of her car in disbelief. I don't know what Sheryl was thinking but I was wondering if Julie remembered we had a destination to get to. The path leading up to the horses was narrow. One narrow dusty path up, a separate narrow dusty path down. True enough, it did not look like it was too steep. Nor did the path look long. Maybe a 5 minute walking time.

Sheryl opted out. She is the smart one :)

I am either foolish or have more adventure in me that I care to admit to. I followed Julie in my semi dress shoes but nothing else to trade in to. I won't let that happened again on any trip with Julie.

There we were, walking up the trail. Once I get going I am OK. It's just getting over the initial change of mode. I looked back a few times to see how Sheryl was doing and wondered if she might join us but no, she was leaning against the car and I almost thought I could see a smile that might be interrupted more of a smirk.

It was an easy trail. I was more than fine with the shoes I had on. It was a straight shot up. No big boulders or struggles of any kind. Any person could have gone up there even with sandals on. It was worth it, at the moment. Remember, this story is not over yet.

The horse sculptures were amazing. Please do stop if you ever make it this way.

Now the trek down. Simple enough, I just walked up that puppy and viewed the down path on my way up. It's gonna be a cinch and in a few short minutes we will be on our way to Spokane.

With the first two steps down I knew something was different. Have you ever noticed that going up a bit of an embankment is much easier than trying to balance yourself going down without rolling?

Don't laugh. That will only add to the horror I was already experiencing, not to mention rude.

Julie led. I followed, that is until the first two steps were completed and there I stood while she kept going. I had to stop and analyze the situation.

Julie finally stopped. I heard mumbling so I think she was chatting with me, assuming I was right behind her.

I'm not sure exactly what I expected as response from Julie but it was not the one I got. She laughed as she walked back up towards me as if she were on an escalator.

How does she do that!!

She reached for my hand and told me she would walk me down the path with instruction. She said she would show me where to take each step at. And so it was, Julie had one of my hands, the other one she would not have been able to grab, it was flailing in the air reaching for some support that was non existent.

Julie would say, "step here."

I would not, and attempted my own step placement.

At this point I was in the midst of my own world and unable to comprehend instruction.

Again Julie pointed to a stone with her hiking boot and said, "step here."

Again I did not and again attempted my own step placement.

This pattern continued a couple more times until Julie said, "step here ... or not."

That statement made its way into my brain. I giggled. She giggled. Now I had a new issue, I had to use the bathroom.

We made it down.
Sheryl was thoroughly entertained.
I had much to write about and had learned more about myself.

Want to join us on our next road trip?

Two Worlds

two worlds

opposite sides of the universe

began to drift

leaving the comfort and familiar

drifting aimlessly at first

then with purpose

towards their destiny

to melt and form a new world

to form new prints

like none before

and like none since

and so it was

forever more

deceit
dishonesty
fable
fib
implied
little lies
tale
tall tale
white lies
whopper

they are hurtful

why do you do it

Lack of Mind

A friend of mine likes to hike. I don't mean the run of the mill hiking trails either, I mean peak Mt. Rainier in two days kind of hiker.

Do you ever get swept up into doing something you would not do if you were in your right mind? But the person talking to you is so enthusiastic you can't help but think this is exactly what you have been waiting all your life to do.

My goal: mark people like that with warning sticky notes

She convinced me that Mt. Rainier was an easy mountain to peak and when we whip that one, we will move on to Mt. St. Helens.

I trained, just like she taught me, following every instruction down to the letter. The more I did, the deeper the enthusiasm grew within me until foolish me was convinced I could do this.

The day came, almost a year later, for our trial trek up the side of the mountain. The weather was perfect. I bought the perfect cute shorts to impress the fellow hikers. I had on a back pack that was empty other than water and some protein bars....hey - no one had to know that I was not in full pack and only faking it for a trial run.

Funny thing happened on the drive to the mountain. Did you know that mountains that are ever so majestic and so tiny in size when you view them from 60 miles away grow much larger at the base of them?

I didn't -- at the time

As we drove closer and closer, driving up higher and higher, I would take glances over at Mt. Rainier. I kept thinking that maybe the mountain in my view was not the one we were climbing. I didn't see a name tag on it :)

Still keeping my head 'out of the game', we arrived. We parked. From there my real experience began. The parking lot was half full. (I say that so you know I am an optimist.) Hikers...I no longer referred to them as people...were busy in the parking lot, taking items from their vehicles and stuffing their back packs. giggle While I slipped on my backpack, of course pretending it was heavy and giving it that extra few adjustments to level out the oh so heavy weight of it.

Julie took me into the gift shop while we were there to check it out. Might as well experience the WHOLE thing. We did walk through the shop, however, Julie was not aware that while she pointed out postcards and Mt. Rainier memorabilia to purchase, I was gazing out the window at the mountain as the portion of my mind I had lost last year when she first approached me with this not- so- me idea was returning.

There was no turning back now. Too many professionals in my presence to start crying or screaming for help. I was in such a state of shock that I could not even muster up any ideas like tripping down the stairs going out of the gift shop so I have to get to a hospital.

Where were you when I needed you?

I am not sure how I made it back across the parking lot to the base of the mountain but I am certain my legs were moving because there we stood facing signs that led to trails. Now, which one to take. Julie, being thoughtful as she is, turns to me and asks me which trail I would like to take.

Silly lady....the one that goes back home of course or any one other than one that goes up

I said this to myself so stop thinking I am rude and ungrateful

I will fast forward now for you, care to join me?

The climb began. It was a blast. We walked up stone paths. We hopped on stones over narrow streams. We stopped to sit on a large rock to enjoy our water and protein bar. I learned to use a not restroom behind a bush. We stopped at a snow area and observed two men. One was the teacher and was teaching the other fella how to use tools to grip into the snow side of the mountain for their next trek. It was a good feeling knowing it was he and not me with that experience in the future. We talked to tons of people from all over the world who had one thing in common, they liked to hike. I was in the zone so I did not make mention that a hiker was not really an accurate description of myself - mind wise.

Julie commented that I was doing better than she thought I would do and we got much further than she expected that day.

hmmm was it that my deer in the headlights expression I thought I was covering up on our arrival had shown through? I didn't ask. I just smiled and said thanks.

It was an experience of a life time for me. Mostly because that was the only time in my life time I plan to do that! However, I would not have missed it for the world.

This summer Julie is hiking across areas of England with her sister. Me, I am enjoying the ground level view of my garden and every once in awhile, on my way to the mall, I glance up at Mt. Rainier and remember my adventure with fondness and a warmth in my heart for friends who bring adventure into my world.

Rabbits

My home is on an acre surrounded by wooded area. There is a pond out front with a water fountain. It is located outside of my bedroom window. On warm summer nights I have the windows open and can hear the sound of the water flowing through the fountain. It is really very soothing.

Sound romantic?

hmmm

Maybe 30 years ago. Now I try my best to enjoy the sound of the water and the fish popping their heads up to catch bugs as long as I can. All the while, fighting back the urge to race to the bathroom. What else did you expect at 50+?

Beyond the landscaped green grass area are woods. I know - it makes me cringe too - spiders, raccoons, possums even a couple of cougar sport the area. But as long as I don't see them, I can continue to reject that reality and substitute my own :) are you with me?

Fluffy white rabbits use to inhabit the woods. In fact they often made meals of my flower garden. The flower garden I had carefully protected with security fencing to keep rabbits out. I was glad the flowers were assorted colors and kinds. It would have been an awfully dull meal for them to bask simply on my lavender tulips. poor things

Now as to why the fluffy white rabbits no longer hop through my yard and wiggle their noses as they check out my garden is a whole other story.

Elmer Fudd lives here with me.
Need I say more?
:(

If I Tell You...

...I'll have to shoot you.

Give me a break. We ALL know what you are really saying because we have the same excuse.
What you are really saying is:

I haven't a clue
I don't know
Next time, warn me, prepare me before one of your questions, so I can do research
:)

The Field

Hurray, another good memory flowing out of storage!

I stood there free from the torment

I could have shouted
but I didn't

I could have danced
but I didn't

I stood there
Knee deep in grass that grew wild

Loving the freedom

Parents

A puzzle

or

a window

in understanding

who we are

Camping

ick - it's all bad
bright orange sweatshirts

camp tent trailer set up
rake the area
green doublemint gum

find something to do
but
don't get dirty

bright orange sweatshirts
ick - it's all bad

Storms

Meteorologists can't always predict them
They can come out of nowhere
Short and weak
or
Long and strong

Weather storms or life storms
They enter
They leave

It's all random

Wagon Lady

First of all, I am not amused at having to write about this but since I mentioned I would tell you more, now I am compelled to respond.

I live in a small city. Many people, on the outside, refer to it as a village. Maybe 600 people - maybe.

We, meaning those of us who have lived here long enough to consider ourselves residents, refer to locations using a different map than you might.

For instance - "Where does the Wallace family live?"
"Just a bit up this road, take a left. The road will curve past the pond. Up a hill and past the Alpaca Farm will be where they live."

End of directions.

Note there was no mention of street or road name. hmmm

Some folks will say they are going up town or into town today. You have to figure out if that means our city itself or are they speaking of the large city that is northwest of here where the banks and shopping center is.

That leads me to my reference to the Wagon Lady.

Things and people do not necessarily have names in this part of the world/woods. Have you started figuring that one out? Is it the same in the village you are from too?

Are you at this moment wondering what in the world do those people do when they have a fire or emergency? How do the law enforcement know what house is where...don't worry, most of them are volunteer thus from this area, thus use the same language.

It's all good

It's not that we don't know each others names. Most of us are related and know many details about each other. It's just that instead of saying, I saw Mary in town or John was sure riding that tractor fast through town today, you might hear...that Bonnet Lady was in town or Overall Guy was at it again.

So came to be Wagon Lady's nickname.

Once upon a time there was a young gal in town who had several small children. When she would walk the oldest of them to school each day, she didn't have anyway to put the three small ones in one stroller. The walk was too far for their little legs. Carrying a couple of them all that way would have been hard on her. So, that smart gal put the youngest in the stroller and pulled the other two in a red wagon after placing a nice blanket down for them to ride in style and comfort, while the school aged child walked alongside her.

Each day, people from their windows would say, here comes the Wagon Lady, and smile. They could set their clocks by her arrival.

The Wagon Lady didn't know she was dubbed the Wagon Lady - until one day....

Her children had grown and were all school age. She got a job at the local school. While in the staff room, a fellow employee pointed to her saying, "I remember you. You were the Wagon Lady!"

hmmmm

Ok, it was ME. I did not know if I should be embarrassed or flattered. I sat there, probably with my mouth open wide and my eyes rolling since I was doing a LOT of memory recalling, to figure it all out. They didn't mean it in a rude way. It was simply who I was. The Wagon Lady.

So there you have it. I survived the moment. I had total recall and that was defiantly a wonderful feeling. And now, you know the story too. I bet you are wanting to come visit our lovely village.

Let me help you out with some directions.

Get off the freeway at Spiffy's.

Travel down past Mary's Corner.

When you get to Ethel you will see the yard with all the bird houses, keep going, you are getting closer.

If you pass the other Spiffy's in Morton, you have gone too far.

I look forward to your arrival.

:)

Dive or Wade

Some folks are divers. They dive off the edge of the pool. They seek adventure. They are the 'go-getter's the risk takers. Spontaneous. Motto might be - leap and the net will appear. Zen

Some folks wade in the water. They test it out. Kind of like me. They ponder before they dive in. They seek adventure in a calmer, more researched sort of manner and most certainly take a map and maybe even a compass along :)

Some folks are neither divers nor waders. They simply don't move. I am reminded of a Vinny quote from the movie Atlantis...

Don't move, eh, don't breathe, don't do anything. Except pray, maybe...

Which are you?

A Pattern

want your acceptance
want your approval
want your friendship
want your love

your way
your terms
your needs

in the end
it's all the same
i'm alone again
i'm empty again
i've gained nothing
i've lost time
i've lost part of me
again

The Dark

I grew up being afraid of the dark. I played games in my mind to get me through moments of fear. You too?

At night, coming home alone from the skating rink when I was 11 or 12, I would walk along Monroe Street. Tall trees lined the side of the street I walked on. They seemed friendly. Hey, I was just a kid! I didn't give them names but I did make believe that they protected me on my walk.

I never figured how to flip off the light switch and be safely under the covers of my bed at the same time. After taking a running leap into my bed, I would lay there, clutching the edge of the sheet and cover until I would drift to sleep.

If I knew then what I know now, childhood would of been more free from that burden.

All along it was fear of the unknown, not the dark itself.

I know that now. It won't change the past but at least I don't have to have my bedroom arranged with the bed up under the light switch. :)

I do however, still have a fond memory of those trees along Monroe Street...

Relationships

Most relationships begin with entertaining each other. The bad, depressed, don't feel good, stomp my feet, hate the world AND Microsoft days are usually held back in those early stages. Agree? Maybe you don't agree.

There is the other extreme - I feel like dancing - happy feet - GLORY shouting days.

In some relationships, those emotions I just mentioned, that are a part of what define a person are held back. Sometimes forever - egg shell walking. Once the pattern of egg shell walking is entered into, finding the escape button is almost impossible.

How then do you explain to your friend/partner/spouse, the change in your behavior?

When you grow weary of holding back who you really are, what else can they say but you have changed.

When in reality you haven't. You simply are being yourself finally. You have reached a place where you have 'come to be.'

Living On Hope

Once upon a time...

I hoped and hoped and hoped for this and that and those things too, in my life until the day came where I said no more.

Is that a place you are familiar with, a place you have ever reached?

I give up Lord, take me now. What is the point. No matter how hard I try, I can't win. I only find myself deeper and deeper in the pit. No one cares. Everyone is pretending. Everything and everyone is fake.

One morning, must have been 16 years ago, while making the beds, I made a statement out loud to the Lord. "I just want to die and end it all" I had done a lot of thinking along those lines and had a lot of private conversations with the Lord in the previous months. He was the only one listening. I know that because all those nights of crying myself to sleep, I could sense His presence and knew He was gathering my tears in a bottle.

But it was at that breaking moment, when the grief and pain that were far too deep, leaving me with no words to silently or verbally speak, shot out of my mouth.

I felt so ashamed that the life God had given to me I would think so little off. Was I going to decide for God that is it finished and there was nothing more He could do.

It is another long story...but the short of that is, I made a conscious effort each moment of every day since then, to rebuild my thinking. I knew if I could do that, it would no longer matter what occurrences were happening the world around me and to me. I would define myself anew with what really mattered.


You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.

I will fulfill my vows to you, O God,
and will offer a sacrifice of thanks for your help.
For you have rescued me from death;
you have kept my feet from slipping.
So now I can walk in your presence, O God,
in your life-giving light.

Psalm 56:8, 12,13

Aspirations

~ to be near a restroom when drinking abundance of coffee

~ to raise Alpacas

~ to own a memory bank and vault to keep my memory intact

Seriously, I would like to own a book shop and to be a published writer. My ideal place is Coronado Island in California. Have you ever been there?

There are many small stores/shops. It is a community all its own. To own any small shop, even a bike shop there would be a dream come true and to live there also of course. To have a lovely small home with a lovely view and spend hours listening to stories from strangers and not strangers, who entered my shop. Then I would spend hours writing from the thoughts they placed in my head and heart.

I would like to have all my children on speed dial and talk to them at least once a month and to be able to visit them every year and be a part of their lives and their children lives. But I do not want to be consumed or defined as wife, mom, writer, shop owner or even the wagon lady....( totally whole other story) I want to be Nancy and feel free to be so.

No! Not Knots!

I have several necklaces.

I wear only one - my favorite. It was a gift and has special meaning. It is a ruby read stone - my birthstone.

I decided to change it up one day. Special day, special event.

Off went the standard one.

On went the new one.

The day came when it was time to change back...I was having withdrawls :)

...NO, NOT KNOTS!

I had put my necklace in a safe place but with my focus on the new change, I was careless in handling the placement of my treasured necklace. Now, in a hurry, I am dealing with the mess I left behind.

If only I had taken time and care I would not be in this position.

Do I have the same attitude with people in my life? Quickly, but perhaps not accurately answering questions or giving them my full attention and time. In looking back over the past few days I can't really recall but God has the answer; He knows my yesterday, today and all of my tomorrows. I want and need to commit every thought, word and deed to glorify Him.

Ronnie

My feet stomp
My fist pounds
I use my angry eyebrows
Still - I got nuthin'

I was attempting to bring forth good memories. There must be some hiding somewhere in my subconscious.

The best memories are when I was with my younger brother Ronnie. He was the one person I could be with and enjoy the moments without a word spoken.

we would take walks

sit for long periods of time

take in the fragrance of the seasons

feel the soft texture of grass beneath us

and the grandest of all - sinking in four feet of snow in our backyard, arms outstretched standing like a scarecrow

Ronnie taught me many things.

Ronnie gave me the greatest gift I ever received.

Ronnie taught me to love unconditionally by example.

If You Were Like Me

... You would embrace the early morning hours and rise between 4:30 and 5:00 a.m.

... Your favorite color is lavender

... You don't like to be idle

... Your favorite meal is grilled/bbq

... You have five children and four grandchildren

... Your heart is torn between living in the city but loving the country wide open spaces

... You can't stop your mind from wandering and almost always have a note pad by your side

... Your favorite fruits would be fresh peaches and crisp apples

... Nicholas Cage, Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan and Sandra Bullock would be your favorite actors

My Mind and Body

Don't be silly. I am not going to tell you the latest on a healthy mind and body. relax, this is not a drill.

I have come to the conclusion that my body has it's own mind. You might have to stick with me for this to all make sense.

My phone gets memory overload. It tells me so on the screen. It will only hold so much then it simply stops allowing more messages to slip through. It doesn't have a breakdown. It doesn't scream. There is no buzzing sound.

Me - memory overload. Like my phone, a message comes through on my screen...I consider my eyes my screen and have seen the look of overload in the mirror before. Trust me, it isn't pretty. Unlike my phone, I do breakdown. Like my phone, I don't scream...I learned it doesn't do anyone any good and only brings up blood pressure issues. Buzzing noise? I will let you be the judge of that one.

Seeds and My Garden

When I plant my garden I know what plants and seeds I am putting into the soil. Soil that has been carefully cultivated.

What if I took a random packet of seeds and sprinkled it on the soil not knowing what I might find growing in a few weeks.

God does that to me. Cultivating my life. The seeds are random. Sometimes I know what's coming, what He has planted in my life. Then, there are the times I am taken by surprise.

Hello Lord, this is ME, SOOO NOT liking surprises.

Unlike in a garden, an unknown seed planted may bring forth the surprise of a rare and beautiful flower. I prefer that to the surprises sometimes the Lord has planted in my life like heart attacks, diabetic shock or flooding.

When I think about it, those unwelcome surprises do bring forth, in time, a beautiful creation.

However a side note to you Lord, please don't misunderstand that as an open door for more. I am quite content with what you have blessed my life with. :)

Amused and Me

I am not amused when:

~ A friend told me she could not find my keys in my backpack...the lost keys were not the issue. The backpack she referred to is my purse!! I think I need to clean out my my 'purse'.

~ Someone walks up to me and tells me how gifted I am at some task that is in need of filling...hmmm

~ My 28 year old son calls to let me know how frustrated he is that the barrier barrels on the freeway don't move if you hit them and by the way - his side view mirror exploded - double NOT amused...ok..I did giggle a little.

~ I hear a loud crash in the kitchen, then silence.

~ I walk into a meeting and EVERYONE goes silent as they turn their heads in my direction.

~ I get a call from the doctor office that she wants to see me in person to give me the results of my recent exam...hmm

You Rock...

...my world.

Wasn't that the standard yearbook phrase a few years back - You Rock! :)

All well and good and to be fair, there are many of you folks out there who do rock my world, causing me to breathe and sing through another day.

Rock On!

ahem - to keep fair is fair - there are those of you who rock my world but with a different meaning. If you would move along I would appreciate it.

Hang Gliding

Recently I was in the library looking for a book to read. I scanned the shelves. The title of this book caught my eye. Hang Gliding.

Don't be silly. I may act foolish, look foolish and have been foolish but I am not crazy! Hang gliding is not on my list of hobbies, interests or even dreams.

It was the words. Together they mean one thing but read them as two separate words, each with their own meaning. They describe days in my life recently.

I am hanging on the edge. I am hanging onto truths in God's Word.

I am gliding along the path I feel God has given to me, feeling like I can't stop but having a need of my own to make pit stops along the way.

God knows what I have been praying for. He keeps telling me the solution but I might have my ears covered...go figure!

I struggle with my own desires. I need His help. I keep wondering when it hurts and times get tough, if I am for certain gliding along the path of His choosing or of mine.

Winston Churchill quote: "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Lord, give me wisdom and let me hear Your voice."

Maybe and Everything

Recently I came across this - everything is somewhere.

Maybe it was the name of a book or movie, or maybe it was a statement I heard. It doesn't matter, like all things in my space - I hear, read, see or feel - I'm pondering.

True or false

True enough - everything is somewhere. I know this is true, I took a survey! giggle giggle

False (maybe) - if one of the everythings is held in my hand then is the everything no longer somewhere, but here? Does it move from one place of position to another? Does that offset the entire universe?

I might want to ponder that some more...

Everything IS somewhere - like my feelings, my mood, my well-being, my feet, my mind, my dreams, my world...

In my investigation I came across these related statements:

everything starts somewhere
everythings live somewhere
everything happens somewhere

finally...

because everything is somewhere
and
everything is broken.

Pink Rambler Ramblings

What I learned not to do while driving:

Open a new bottle of pop
Read or send a text message

Never, ever search for lipstick in my purse or attempt to apply lipstick
Especially true while going down a sloped driveway lined with boulders

(want the name of my favorite tow service?)

Pink Rambler Ramblings

Most men to me are like office machines
They look intimidating but they really aren't

Pink Rambler Ramblings

I'm leaving late for work again
Since I usually leave far too early
Officially it cancels out the late thing right :)
I think my recent lack of enthusiasm for my job is the cause of it

See - not my fault
I take no blame

In Port

I am one of five siblings. 2 sisters and 2 brothers. I fall near the baby end of that line, being one up from the bottom. Sometimes it was nice, sometimes not so nice of a position.

I would hear mom chatting with her friends at the fashionable green speckled kitchen table, about her 'in port' children. She and her friends would laugh. I never asked what that meant. I didn't know I didn't know or needed to know. I just knew it was something that must be a good thing or they would not be so happy about it.

Then I overheard my sisters chatting, not at the hard metal kitchen table, but from under the tree outside my bedroom window. In port children refers to when dad, a proud Navy man, was ...you guessed it, in port at home. He would be out to sea for months, then come home for a few weeks and off again he would sail.

I remember growing up thinking my sisters were the smartest people in the world and I knew when I got to be their age, I too would be as smart. Only thing was, I could never be the same age as them. Each year a birthday would come, I would be a year older but EVEN STILL, not their age yet. How was I to ever even things out. How was I ever going to know what they know.....

kids
how their minds work
or at least mine

Once grown, mom and I use to meet for lunch once a week or so at a restaurant. The last lunch we had together:
Mom sat across from me and while in random chat about work, housework and what shades of lipstick go with what shade of nail polish, mom drops a bomb shell. (I wonder if she carries C-4 in her purse) Mom said she only wanted one child. Mom said she did not want me but well, dad was in port...

That was more information than I needed. My mouth didn't drop but my heart did. She also told me she wanted to name me Cassandra but dad said that sounded like the name of a train. So then in my quest for more pain, after all, the wound was already open, I asked her how she came up with my name. She told me by the time she got to me, (I was #4 out of 5 children), she was out of energy and creativity to come up with a name other than the one she had picked out. She turned to my oldest brother, her first born for help. He is 12 years older than me. He had a girlfriend at the time. Can you guess what her name was?

Growing up, my oldest brother was so much older than I was to even care about me. At least it seemed that way. My oldest sister - she became active in my life in my teen years. She taught me the art of smoking a cigarette without dad finding out and how to iron jeans with your hands when they are hot and fresh from the dryer. Next the sister that is one year older than me. We shared a bedroom, much to her chagrin, most of our lives and bath water. Another story. Little brother - I adored. He taught me the rare ingredients for unconditional love.

Where or Who I Wish I Were

In trying to understand the whys of me, I went back to the beginning of me.

Does that make sense?

Where I wish I were – near family.

If there is one thing I am guilty of, it’s being envious of families that are close.
Three years ago I traveled via plane sitting by my older brother on our way to California for Christmas with … you guessed it…family.

My older brother lives two hours from me but we don’t visit. In fact, I had not seen him in over 10 years. His choice.

My oldest sister dropped out of our lives for about 28 years then three years ago showed up on my mom’s door step…save that story for another chapter….never to leave again.

My other sister has not written or spoken to me, by her choosing, for 30 years.
Mom, I am required to send her letters. Each one must start with Dear Mom, and end with Love…. Are you surprised?

Childhood Nicknames aka as:
Kathy, oldest sister – Hippy Dippy
Ann aka Edith, Miss Priss
Moi’, Goodie Two Shoes

Oldest and youngest brother never got initiated into the hall of nicknames. Maybe that was a right of sisterhood.

Dad passed away when I was 16. Wish he were alive now that I am older and wiser so I could ask why and maybe even understand. I wish I could sit at his feet and listen as he tells me war stories. I wish it would be ok to hug him and tell him I love him just as he is and he would hug back and say the same.

My youngest brother – all the good memories of childhood are wrapped up in him. And yet, he left this earth all too soon. He was 21. There is so much I never told him.
The where would be around a long, long dining table at every holiday. There would be chatting, laughter and sharing stories with my brothers, sisters and their children.

Who I wish I were. Someone more complete, whole and stronger. A good mother, sister, daughter and friend. I wish I were a woman who could spend more time enjoying simple pleasures like quilts, waterfalls, rainbows, sunsets, sunny days and warm weather, squishing my toes in fine beach sand, reading, rediscovering old friendships, painting, cooking, black licorice, hot cocoa on a winter day, learning from the elderly and their life experiences, watching God work, encouraging others, helping others to seek their purpose and destiny, and finding God in all the simple everyday moments of life.

Simple Words - Cut Deep

"You're dad died."

Simple words

The giant size of a man now seemed quite small as he held his head down and slumped in the chair. What could be so intriguing on the kitchen table that he could not look up at me - it was only a place to avoid eye contact with me - I know that now.

It was her, the short but strong one who boldly and proudly made the announcement. Now deal with it. She didn't have to say it. I already knew that was the expectation.

I had just walked in our home, returning from what was another ordinary school day when Margaret made her announcement.

I didn't return any words. I had been in Navy brat long enough to recognize the "You're dismissed" body language.

Dismissed down the hall to my bedroom. A small room but one I embraced. It was the first bedroom that I did not have to share with a sister. Lavender shag rug at the side of my bed. Nice feeling on my toes when I wake to greet a new day.

Across the room is a large window laced with beige curtains and delicate lavender flowers. They stand open as if an invitation for me.

So I stood, finger tips lightly touching the window seal. I was sure this moment is not real and if I actually felt the wood beneath my fingers it might break the trance I was in. Staring out at nothing and wondering. Is anything real anymore.

~~

I wondered a lot from that time on. Wondered why I didn't cry out loud. I wondered where mom was, where my sisters were. I wondered why these people had to make the report of dads death so coldly. Wondered why I didn't know this day was coming.

I heard rumors. Rumors because no one officially talked to me about dad having cancer. I heard mom's conversations, sometimes one sided, as she talked on the phone in whispers for hours to unknown parties. I heard conversations she had with her friends from the kitchen. But no one talked to me.

I wondered had they heard my dad say I was stupid and I might not understand.

I wondered if being almost the baby in the family - yet 16 - did they think I was too young.

Yet too far off, too many years later, I wondered less and less. I knew more than I could handle.

~~

The funeral. A lot had changed in those few days from learning dad died to finding myself again, standing in front of a window, fingers lightly touching a counter, gazing out at nothing. I could hear voices of relatives and friends coming from all areas of the house I stood in. Words but just that, only words. Young and old, some I knew, some I didn't. Young ones running and playing...life goes on.

This time at the window was different.
I stood in my navy blue dress with 10 white flower buttons making a straight soldier line down the front.
Dark cars lined up outside.
Dark cloudy sky.
The moment and silence in my head were broken by grandma's harsh voice, "Come on, it's time to go!"
Simple words

A long held back spring of tears flowed down my cheeks and went unattended.
No tissue offered.
No hugs for or from our family, that would be too touchy feely.
We don't go there, never have, never will, don't know how, never learned...I insist on breaking this cycle

~~

It was fitting, standing around the open, deep and dark grave as rain burst forth that was once held in those dark clouds. At that moment, heaven opened up for me and to me. God and His angels touching my hair and deep into my soul with tears from heaven. Tears of a past, tears for a future. Tears from heaven saying 'accept compassion, accept understanding. This day, this rain, is a gift to you.'

Meals, Wardrobe and Company Rules

Meals

In looking back now, I see a bit of compulsivity in mom. Each day of the week had it's ordered, unchangeable menu. Only exceptions were during those nightmare camping trips.

Thursdays were mac and cheese, homemade of course. Saturday brought us tacos or hamburgers. Sunday was a pot roast or pork chop day. Even in summer, don't worry about heating the house up, just get those pork chops in the oven!

Breakfast was Rice Krispies, Corn Flakes or Shredded Wheat. Now you have to remember, back then Shredded Wheat did not come in small, frosted bite size pieces. They were jumbo and wrapped in white paper. You tore open the paper and shredded the already shredded wheat into you bowl.

Veggies - had to eat what was on your plate. Otherwise, you would be dished the whole bowl of whatever the vegetable was. None of us ever tempted dad so I never found out if he would follow through or not. At the dinner table is where I learned that mashed potatoes made a great buffer for ocra.

Coming home from school you were offered two fresh baked cookies - no milk - saving that for dinner.

Company Rules
Dad, when we was home, sat at the head of the meal table. There wasn't any talking unless dad asked a question and your response needed to be brief and to the point.

No one got up until dad dismissed us. The only wild and crazy thing I recall was Lynn, the oldest of us, requesting water near the end of dinner. He was thirsty and his ration of milk was long gone. He would stand at the sink and fill his glass. Before drinking it, he would turn so we girls could see that he poured the water in his glass that still had milk in it. It was his way of rebelling against the orderly rules. I remember each of us girls holding back laughter. I wasn't sure what would happened but I knew I did not want my dad to catch me with a smile or laughing - never at the dinner table.

Wardrobe
Again, mom and her compulsive behavior. Lynn got to bathe alone. Kathy next, alone. Edith and I had to share bath water. I didn't get it but didn't question. Sunday was hair in rollers, strip beds, polish saddle shoes and a trip to our closet with mom.

I stood with interest as mom showed me what I would be wearing each day. That navy blue pleated skirt made many outfits! My clothes were hung in order along with knee socks for each day.

My rebellion - when I was in the 7th grade, mom bought me a multi task coat. Confused? It's ok. I spent much of my youth in that same form of mind.

one side of the coat was green corduroy. It was reversible. The other side was a beige raincoat. It was bland and didn't feel as nice as the soft corduroy.

In obedience, on rainy days, on went the coat, beige side out. Then the plastic rain hat. remember those 2 inch in length plastic, polka dot or stripped shiny rain hats that noisily but conveniently unfolded?

Once I got around the corner from home, I would stop long enough to take my coat off and reverse the order of things. yes, I was wet but the coat felt nice and I didn't feel like such a dork.

More Company Rules
I'm not so sure I want to hear about your childhood. I thought mine was normal. When dad was in port and home, mom and dad would invite friends over. Only on Saturdays of course. Mom would have us eat an early dinner, not veering from the menu. Each of us would be sent to put on a dress, comb our hair, or in my brothers cases, pants and then hair combing.

Sounds like a great start to a Saturday evening/party? You have NO IDEA.

By 7 p.m., we were waiting for the signal -
Door bell rings
Not yet
Mom calls us
All 5 of us parade out in our given order
We stand like little soldiers in a line beside mom and dad. We are introduced to whoever the company might be.
We say hello
Mom says - now you can go back

Go we did - back to our bedrooms, trading our fine clothes for P.J.'s

Playing quietly in our rooms, listening to card games, laughter and munching of potato chips.

A few times a year mom and dad would do the same of dressing us up, stuffing us in the pink rambler and driving us to their friends homes for a social gathering.

Don't be silly in thinking anything other that fact yet.

The company rules at home or not were pretty much the same. In order, we paraded inside. Standing at attention until introduced, then escorted by mom to another room of the house to sit until they were done visiting. Mom would remind us to sit quietly.

There we were, all five of us in our fancy clothes sitting for a couple of hours while mom and dad visited with friends. While we talked quietly or said nothing at all.

I wonder if mom and dad thought we kids were in the way - their way - a burden.

I guess I'll never really know but what does it matter now?