Goodbye 2010 . . . . its been . . . . . . . . . . . .

So, Lynn when you look back at the last 365 days, what did they look like?  Oh my goodness I would say - you would never believe it.  It is like something out of a novel, or a horror flick maybe!  Nonetheless, it was 365 days I was given to live and experience and love.

January started with our roommates ringing in the new year.  Jim began it with health issues, in the hospital with kidney problems.  February it was his heart - but all was well again.  February was exciting for us, as Clint was given a transfer from Washington to Phoenix.  He and Sierra were going to be moving near us.  We were so excited to have them near and to get to know her better.  He moved in with us until he could make arrangements for a house for them.  Sierra came a few weeks later, and within another week they were moved into their own home.  March brought on our roommates brush with death, suffering necrotizing facitis and left with a hole in his abdomen 4 x 4 x 8.  Nurses were coming to the house daily to change bandages, and check on him.

April came and we had our first ever garage sale.  We got rid of a bunch of stuff, and Jim was like a maniac!  He was pulling things out of his garage and selling them as fast as he could.  He would put the cash in his pocket and then a big ole grin was plastered all over his face!  Roommates were supposed to be leaving the week after the sale, but his wound hadn't healed up yet, and they thought possibly another 6-8 weeks before he could travel.

Then came May.   Amy graduated from ASU with her bachelors degree and we had a great time celebrating that.  I went to see James and had a great visit.  I got to watch him try out a new electric wheel chair that he could control himself.  He had grown so much since I had seen him last.  It was a fast trip, and one that required a lot of digesting; emotionally, psychologically, and mentally.  I got off the plane grabbed my bags, and met Jim in the pick up lane of terminal 4.  He was acting strange, and I could tell something was bothering him. Finally he said, "I have something I have to talk to you about."  I panic.  He says, "I am losing my job.  I will be laid off as of June 11."  Wow.  What can you say?  We decide we will work it out, and will come up with a plan and all will be ok.  Then?  I get home, unload my bags, and sit down to check my emails.  Sidenote - this is all within one hour - getting off plane to reading the emails.  There before me is an email from our landlords.  They are foreclosing on the house we are renting.  Sweet!  No job.  No home.  All within an hour.  WELCOME HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  At first we thought - no prob we will stay until they lose it and then we will move.  We could end up being able to stay a whole year possibly.  Then we wake up - reality sets in. Who rents to someone without a job?  No one.  Time to find a place to live, which we did.  Emma graduates from Kindergarten and we got to go to her celebration complete with pizza and the trimmings.

June is now here.  Now, the landlord was kinda creepy about the whole deal, and we ended up telling him that we would be out within 5 days.  We had 3 to pack up and get out.  We worked like mad people, and had everything ready to go to storage and were going to stay with Clint until we could get into the new house. The night before our move turned into one of the most difficult times of my life.  Luke came to tell us that they were leaving Arizona and moving to Iowa where Amy would go to law school.  Life was sucked out of me. I couldn't breath.  I really didn't want to. They were set to move the end of July.  All was done we turned the keys into the landlord and off to Clints for the remainder of the month.  June 25th we moved into our new house and fell in love with it.  Did you notice something?  Nothing mentioned about Jim's job?  A decision was made at the end of June NOT to lay him off - in fact they were going to give him a small raise.  Crazy!  I guess God has to be really forceful for us to get it!  We had talked about moving but the lazies got us - I guess it was what we needed to be doing and He was going to see to it we did!

July . . . . . garage is full of boxes to be unloaded but it is really really hot.  One would think it was like a blow dryer here and we put away the things that we really needed and left the rest for cooler weather.  The garage was packed and it looked like a warehouse.  Jim had it set up in rows.  We spent every single day we could with the grands before they left.  We had so much fun, and they swam and swam and swam.  We sucked the lifebreath out of every single moment there was to hang on to when they were gone.  We had to keep emotions in check, and be positive when we didn't want to.  At the end of the month as they were preparing to leave, Deb and the littles came from NV to see their cousins off and to visit with us a few days.  It was a good transition for us and we so enjoyed their company.  The day Luke and family left for Iowa, Clint and Sierra also helped to sweeten our lives.  They announced they were pregnant!  How exciting is that!

August was uneventful.  NICE!!!! We took a trip at the end of the month with Clint and Sierra to Laughlin to meet up with Jim's sister Cindy and her husband for the weekend.  The six of us had a blast - it was so good to just play and have fun and have no worries for a minute. Then came September.  We made a trip to New Hampshire to spend some time with Jimmy and his family.  We had a short but great visit.  James had been struggling with siezures and so we kept things quiet and slow, but it was a perfect way for us to rest and enjoy just being with them.  We came home refreshed and ready for the heat to break to get back to living.  It was time.  AND Clint and Sierra are having a boy!  AND Josh and Deb are expecting the end of April!

Then comes October.  Oh holy cow. All is going well, life is good, and then I decide to go to Iowa to visit the kids.  I was missing them so much i had to make a trip.  I found cheap flights and made the plans to surprise the little ones.  It was probably one of the funnest days of the year.   They told the kids there would be a surprise for them when they got home from school.  Amy picked me up at the airport, and when we got to the house, Adam was in the basement playing video games and Emma was at girlscouts.  We walked down to the basement and i stood over Adam.  He looked at me and looked at me and looked at me.  As if something just doesn't fit.  Finally his brain engaged and he jumped in my arms!  He teared up, and I teared up, and I held him so tight!  We visited for a bit, and then it was time to go get Emma.  We went to the school and I hid in the hall while Amy went and got her.  As they walked toward the hallway, Amy asked her if she was ready for her surprise.  Of course she said yes and Amy told her to look down the hall.  She saw me and stopped dead in her tracks.  She screamed out NANA and ran and jumped in my arms and yelped!  She cried and cried and from that point on she didn't leave my side until I was back on the plane to come home.  It was a great trip!  I got to visit one of the boys (a man now) that used to come to our house often, and my mom and stepdad came to visit.  I got to attend Luke's church and listen to him preach, and I got to enjoy a meal with my cousin I haven't seen in almost 20 years.  A great trip!  Then . . . I go home and literally all hell breaks loose.

Early in October Clint found out that the company he is working for is cutting work force.  He will be one of 8 laid off.  However.  He has a great reputation and is offered a transfer instead to Portland.  Sierra is able to transfer as well.  They will need to report to their jobs by Nov 1.  Heart is now literally broken.  October 23, Jim is playing racquetball with his buddy (only 5 games geesh) and blows out his knee.  He can't walk on it, and is waiting for approval from the insurance company to see the specialist.  Clint leaves on Oct 29th and on Oct 30th I sprained my back of which I am still down with.

November I convalesce, and Jim is able to work but falls apart when he gets home.  His sister Cindy and family come to celebrate Thanksgiving with us.  We have a great time and enjoy their visit so much.

December is here - jim is scheduled for surgery.  I'm still down.  Deb Josh and kids, and Jared are coming for Christmas.  Because of our injuries, we have cancelled our yearly feast we put on for our church.  Christmas is awesome.  Everyone leaves, and Monday morning bright and early, Jim has his knee operated on.  All is good, he is home healing and dangerous with the crutches.  We spent the last two days on the couches skyping with our grands in Iowa.  All day.  It was awesome.  It was like they were right here in our room - except our arms ache and the reality of their emptiness is harsh.  Tonite is New Years Eve and we are doing something we haven't done in years.  We are going to ring in the new year!  Alone.  Just the two of us.  Another very harsh reality.

So, there are the highlights in the life of the Snowdens 2010.  I'm so glad I have this blog to record the simple things.  The simple lessons, and the simple pleasures.  I hope to look back at 2011's year at a glance containing all of the hot topics and see them as they are.  We can be assured there will be positive things, and negative things along the way.  My hope is that I have learned a lesson well, and I will be able to rejoice in the small simple things as I reflect back.  Its those things that develop character, and draw me nearer to my Creator.  The big things are somewhat easy, as I know they are too big for me to do anything about.  Its the little things that I have to consciously make a decision to trust.  Wait.  More like I have to make a decision to obey.  I am hoping that 2011 is a year of growth.  And through that growth - joy.  And through that joy - perserverance.  And through that perserverance . . . . faith.

I am excited for 2011. I know I have changes to make within me, and changes to make with my life.  I know I have a lot to look forward to in this year - two new grandbabies - and 6 already here to enjoy.  I am excited to see how God is going to move in our lives and what he is going to call me (us) to.

It is with a bittersweet heart we end this year 2010.  And with eager anticipation will awake tomorrow to 2011.  A new day.  A new dawn.  A fresh beginning.  A growing in the image and likeness of Christ, learning and experiencing more of God's will and how to be receptive and sensitive to it.  Tomorrow.  Tomorrow.  I love ya . . . tomorrow.  Your only a day away!

Because He Lives . . . .

The Day After . . . . how do you put into words what just happened in the last 48 hours?  Its like it was a dream, or maybe what it will be like when we pass thru this life into the next - I'm not sure - but surreal somewhat describes it.

Our quiet little home with just the two of us, all decorated with Christmas cheer; red lights here and clear lights there, transformed in the matter of minutes into a family paradise.  Josh and Deb and the two littles came in the middle of the night.  Sound asleep in the car, they came in the house wide eyed sleepy - they had arrived! Little Emily saw us and instantly a big grin came across her sweet little half asleep face and she hugged us as if life depended on it.  Seth muttered out a hello and a big hug, but really wanted to go back to sleep.  It felt good in this place.

Cooking began, toys that had been put away for months had been pulled back out.  Spiderman had chubby little boy hands holding him again, and the princess clothes were coming to life being danced around in noisy clippy clappy shoes.  The refrigerator once again holds chocolate milk, and little cans of sprite, and the cupboards are once again filled with little kid goodies.  

I felt like I was living in Toy Story 3 - in the day care room when the toys came to life.  That was me.  The air was lighter and brighter and joy filled my heart.  The smell of familiar food cooking, the sounds of littles laughing and crying and talking, the full house of people and wondering where to sit because the room is full of bodies, all of it - life.

Groceries have been bought, menus planned, people invited.  We are ready to celebrate the coming of our Savior and you can feel it in the air.  Jared arrives, and we are feeling complete.  He brings us up to date on his life, and shows us pics of his house, and of course displays his newest electronic toys since the last time we'd seen him! Its been a year.  He's been around the world, fought for our freedoms in Afghanistan, finished his time with the army, and is now living a civilian life for the first time as an adult.  He has grown into a man, a good man with honor and integrity and a plan.  Yet, when I look at him I still see that little boy in his eyes.  Forget about that blood and water stuff - this one I may not have birthed but he owns a piece of my heart just like the boys I carried inside of me.  

We had an awesome day.  We received phone calls, and were happy to take them and talk to our loved ones.  But there was a difference in us this year.   We didn't want to miss a moment of what was taking place around us, so the calls were short.  We can catch up after the day and hear about the Christmasy goodness  when we can give full attention to that as well.  We learned all too well how things can change in the blink of an eye, and those things and times that are so precious . . . change.

But that was yesterday.  Today there is breakfast and packing and preparing to go back to life as usual.  Josh has to go back to work tonite, so they had to be on the road early.  They gave us hugs and we walked them to the van, smooching on the kiddos as they loaded up to go.  As they pulled away, I walked back into the house, grabbed my cup of java and sat down on the couch.  I looked around and all thats left are traces.  Little containers that held each kids new toys to keep them together.  Princess dresses and toys that once again are lifeless, to be put away til the next time.  Dishes to be put away, and a tiny little container of homemade goodies for us to consume.  The biggest thing?  Quiet.  Silence.  Wow - its loud.  

The red and clear Christmas lights are still flashing, the decorations are still there.  The stockings are still hung by the fireplace but now empty and awkward.  Its like it was just a dream.  Did all of that really happen in just a few days?  Jared is still with us thru today.  He and Jim just left for some male bonding time, with guns and ammo and a jeep in tow.  Memories to be made . . . for both of them.

What have I learned?

A month ago, I didn't/couldn't see how we could walk thru this holiday.  I didn't believe Christmas could ever be the same.  I was right!  It wasn't the same.  What I learned was that just because something isn't the same doesn't mean that is going to be bad, nor does it need to be filled with despair. 

I learned that that feeling of despair doesn't allow me to see how God is providing for me in ways I never imagined.  Oh, there is nothing I wouldn't give to have my sons and their families with us, but God provided.  What has been in our lives for the last 12 Christmases was still there and we had to ask for forgiveness for not seeing it and acknowledging it before we noticed what wasn't there.

I learned to savor the moment.  What a lesson.  What a needed lesson.  I hope and pray that I have REALLY learned that.  If I have, life will be more meaningful - filled with more joy and excitement - and memories that will be lifelong.  I want that.  

I learned how to pay attention to me.  With my back still not healed, it was necessary for me to listen to what it was telling me.  I was able to let go of the control of the situations and lay down.  I did good - no brag just fact.  It was hard.  But what I found out was that I could sit back and watch it all unfold.  See those around me interacting and enjoying one another.  I could listen to the sounds of laughter, and sharing, and kids playing.  I was able to hold a kid in my lap and hold their little faces in my hands and look deep into their eyes planting an impression on their little hearts to know they were loved.

This Christmas - one I was frightened to death to walk thru not wanting to feel - was amazing.  There were moments that took me to that longing place, but even in that it was good.  Bittersweet.  Yes, thats what it was.  I am thankful, I have a full and overflowing heart, I have great memories, and that fear is gone.  Bittersweet. . . . .

Because HE lives . . . Life IS worth the living!!!!!

God sent His son, they called Him Jesus
He came to love, heal, and forgive.
He lived and died to buy my pardon,
An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives.

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives, All fear is gone.
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living just because He lives.

How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
And feel the pride and joy he gives.
But greater still the calm assurance,
This child can face uncertain days because He lives.

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives, All fear is gone.
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living just because He lives.

And then one day I'll cross the river,
I'll fight life's final war with pain.
And then as death gives way to victory,
I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know He lives.

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives, All fear is gone.
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living just because He lives.

Two Dollars And A Pillowcase . . . .

It is the Sunday right before Christmas!  The day we all gathered to celebrate Christmas as a family.  Gram and Gramps, aunts and uncles, cousins and then more cousins.  It was a day that I looked forward to all year long.

Our huge family did some really fun and memorable things.  One of my aunts was one of the most benevolent people on the face of the earth.  Each year she would meet with different agencies and screen families for our big family to adopt for Christmas.  Now, I'm not talking about a little gift for a needy child.  I mean full adoption for Christmas.  It was nothing shy of amazing what we did.  Aunt Jan would find a family that preferably had six children.  One that had an unusual set of circumstances causing them to be in great need.  She would then go to the family and interview them, making sure that they were a good fit for our family, and understood what was about to happen.  Once the family was found, the magic began.

First, Aunt Jan would go through the list of children's names.  Oldest to youngest would be paired up with each of Aunt Jan's siblings - in the same order.  So, each aunt or uncle had a name of one child that they were to provide Christmas for.  They had sizes and wish lists and needs that the parents had prepared.  We, the cousins, got so excited about our "kid".  Each family did it a little differently, but it worked out so well.  We would have a month to prepare, and we didn't wrap anything until we went to the family Christmas party.  There, Aunt Jan had a table set up for each family.  She provided name tags and wrapping paper and tape.  Once our meal was done we all got to busy.  We all got to see what the other kids were getting and we all wrapped together.  It was an amazing sight.  None of our family members were wealthy, but to see what was done for these children you would have thought they were the richest people on earth.  

We all met in a hall, as the family was too big to gather in a home.  We tried that for a few years, but as the families grew and some started marrying off, it was too much.  There was always a decorated tree, and whoever had a crockpot brought it full of food to share.  Later on we had cooking competitions and prizes awarded to first second and third place.  We would share a meal together, and then after we ate, we would wrap our gifts for our "kid".  Then once that was done, Gram and Gramp would pass out their gift to all of us.

Many of the cousins thought it to be "stupid".  But me, the oddball, couldn't wait.  Throughout the year, Gram and Grampa made a flannel pillowcase for each of us grandchildren.  They would fold them up and put a money envelope containing $2 in each of them.  Then they would put them in brown lunch sacks and Grampa would write our nickname on the bag.  Yes, all of us grands had a nick name.  Mine?  InnyBinns.  He called me that up until three days before he passed away!  We would get our bags and couldn't wait to see what our pillowcase looked like.  They were so soft and I can remember running my hands over it taking in its newness, and imagining laying my head on it when I went to bed that night!  Grampa would stand at that tree and throw the bags to each person, and Gram would sit there with a big smile on her face!

After the gifts were passed, family would sit and visit, and enjoy each other's company.  Meanwhile cousin Terry would play his guitar and we would all sing Christmas carols.  It was a wonderful time, and we looked forward to it every year.  For our "kid" they would recieve a new winter coat or snowsuit depending on their age, new boots, hats and gloves, a couple pairs of winter pajamas, insulated underwear, shoes, socks, underwear, a nice christmas outfit, and 5 new pairs of pants and shirts or sweaters for boys, and 5 new outfits for girls,and whatever toys were on their wishlist.  Gram and Gramp would provide a new billfold with a $20 bill in it for each of the parents, my other aunt worked at a company that provided all the fixings for a holiday meal including a turkey, and all of the aunts and uncles brought canned goods.  After the party was over, Aunt Jan would load up all the gifts that were put in large trash bags with each kid's name on it, and deliver it to the family.  They never knew our names and we never knew theirs - it was best that way.  She would report back to us on their reaction and their gratefulness.  As a sidenote, I remember one of the last years we did this, the family we adopted had just buried the dad.  Mom had six children and the youngest was a brand new baby.  Her washer had quit working and she was using cloth diapers because she couldn't afford disposables.  Gram had stopped doing her own laundry by then and offered up her wash machine.  It was beyond description.  I just remember Aunt Jan trying to explain this woman's reaction.  Maybe it was because I was older with kids of my own.  Maybe it was because the innocence of childhood had been removed, and the gift of giving seemed more real - more necessary - more sacrificial.  

As I was shopping (online cuz I cant be up long enough to do the stores this year) for the grands, I thought what a great tradition to pass on.  All of our grands live away from us now, and shopping and shipping is nuts.  I could make them a pillowcase, and stick a $20 bill in there for them.  I could have Jim wrap them in a brown lunch sack and write their names on it, and ship it out.  As they get older they could possibly roll their eyes at it, as many of my cousins did.  But as they become adults, and we age and our mortality becomes more of a reality to them - they will do as all of my cousins have - hold tight to those pillowcases, as they symbolize something dear.  Something made by someone who loves them and something tangible that they could count on year after year after year, and have to hold onto once we have left this earth.

I still have most of my pillowcases, tho threadbare at this point.  My kids used them, and my grandkids use them.  The flannel looks old and weathered, and the patterns look antique!  But they are treasured.  

After Gram passed, we no longer gathered on this day.  I think that was one of the saddest things ever.  It just wasn't the same, and she was really the glue that held us all together.  Today, I have a plethora of cousins, but rarely speak with any of them.  I keep close contact with one, and had the good pleasure to share a meal with another a few months back.  But thats it.  I'm sure that would sadden Gram's heart, as her family was her lifebreath, and the one thing that brought her most joy.

My mom's family was so far away, and usually the mom's family is the one that most memories are made with.   I am so grateful for my mom's willingness to make my dad's family such a intregal part of our lives.  I cannot imagine what childhood would have looked like without them.  I can't imagine my life without the influence they had on me as a child, and later as an adult.  I know it was a sacrifice for my mom, as we spent every holiday with her inlaws, and the majority of our family time was with them.  But, she did it sacrificially and without complaint, and I could never thank her enough.

So bottom line, what have I learned?

As I re-read this post, I am stricken by one word that stands out like none other.  Sacrifice.  I think of our family's sacrifice in providing for another family.  A sacrifice that at times took away from our own, but one that in the end taught valuable lessons.  We, as the kids, got to experience the joy of giving to someone we would never know and without getting any credit and acknowledgement for our good deed.  Sacrifice on my mom's part - we as kids never thought about what she gave up being with her own - it was just normal to us.  Today I understand that and have an undying respect for her.  Sacrifice on Gram and Gramps part.  Two dollars and a pillowcase.  For them that was sacrifice.  It was small and somewhat insignificant at that time.  But that sacrifice lives on in all of us as we hold those insignificant pillowcases as if they were gold.  Sacrifice.

While God wants our obedience to Him more than our sacrifice, I believe that our sacrifice in giving to others (with a joyful heart) brings Glory to Him.  What am I sacrificing?  What should I be sacrificing?  What am I being called to sacrifice that I'm not willing?  Thats the thing.  Thats where obedience to God comes in.  It is in that obedience to whatever He calls me to, that my life is transformed, and I am blessed beyond measure.  But it is hard.  Way hard.  And while I know it has most benefit - as God wants whats good and best for his children - I rebel.  

I pray that I will have a grateful heart, one that is willing to be obedient even in sacrifice.  As it is thru obedience that the sacrifice give blessing to my life.  I pray my heart is transformed into the image and likeness of Christ, and I am renewed.  Wow.  Yes, that is my prayer.

Psalm 51:

10  Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right^b spirit within me.
11 Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.

A Difficult Night

I cried last night.  I don't cry.  But, I cried last night.  It wasn't a girly long wah wah wah type of cry - I don't know how to do those.  It was a leaky eye, hurting heart, longing cry.  They only last a few minutes and only happen rarely, and when I least expect it.

I made a roast for dinner.  Just a simple beef roast with carrots and potatoes and onions, and of course, delicious gravy.  I ate so much I hurt myself, and my back was hurting for some reason.  My kids all love roast, and that is a comfort food for them.  That is what they want when they come to our house for dinner.  My daughterinlaw would ask for a roast dinner instead of going out for her birthday.  They all love roast.  So, I'm assuming that my heart and my stomach being so close together had a little meeting - unbeknownst to me, until my eyes started to leak.

I laid in bed, so full and my back bothering me.  It was pitch black in there, and all I could hear was Jim's breathing.  We will leave it at that.  Emotions started to flood out of nowhere.  My arms started to ache.  The tears ran.  I miss those babies.  

James so many  miles away, so little time to cherish with him as we only see him a few times a year.  To touch his hands and kiss his cheeks, and watch his eyes dance as he looks at his mommy.  Adam, growing into a little boy, yet so tender hearted and soft spoken.  I'm missing his activities and showing our support to him, and giving him those I'm proud of you squeezes coupled with lipstick kisses on the side of his forehead that he's too little to be worried about.  I love to hear that soft soft little boy voice when it echoes out "I love you Nana."  Sophie, I missed her first birthday.  I missed her first steps.  She doesn't know who I am.  I know as time goes we will have a relationship with her like James, as we will have nothing to compare it to and it will be as perfect as a long distance perfect can be.  Emma.  Emma - I just can't even put it into words.  When I talked to her a few times ago she told me that she hadn't seen me in 2 months and she was used to seeing me every week, and this just doesn't feel right.  I had to muster the ability to tell her it will be ok and we will make it work meanwhile the tears are running down my face and my voice is so choked up I can hardly speak, but I did.  Amazing what you can do for someone else you love more than life.

I laid there reminiscing of the two little ones snuggling in our bed and laughing and talking and singing.  I thought about the movies we watched laying there, and how many times Nemo played over and over and over.  What I wouldn't give today to sit through another million episodes of that just to have them near.  Their little arms slung around me, and the tender touches when they wanted undivided attention.  Hearing them say I love you more, and then the game beginning!  I don't know how many of those times we will ever have again.  Things are different.

I struggle with knowing how to take 7 years of something, and making it something else.  My head and my heart fight over it.  My head knows that you just do the next right thing.  My heart wants to put a shield of protection over it and not allow it to be penetrated any further.  Its a constant battle and because they were so involved in our lives there is very little that doesn't have them attached to it somehow.  For a short while after they moved i wanted to remove anything and everything that had any emotional attachment to them.  I thought I would heal faster and would be a big girl and get over it sooner.  Not so much.  They are everywhere.  They are in places in the dark when I'm all alone and my arms start to ache.  There is no shedding of that.

How to move forward?  I wish I knew the answer to that.  Out of the blue we will be sitting in the living room and Jim will say, I'm really having a hard time missing the kids.  And there goes the nice wall I built up so pretty.  Memories flood, heart hurts, longing happens.  

This will be our first ever holiday away from them.  We will have our other littles here, but their absence will be the big pink elephant in the room.  We will talk with them via skype, and they will be all excited to tell us about their Christmas, and we will bite our lip and put on our happy faces and be excited with them, and then we will fall apart.  Longing, aching, lonely.

I know there is a learning lesson in this season.  I think there are two things that God has shown me most.  First, this life is temporary.  My passion and my time should be spent on praying for the children's salvation and their future spouses, so that we spend eternity together. No hurt no pain no longing no aching no lonliness.  Together.  I need practice on this.  

Second lesson is more difficult and more humbling.  When I look at the words I've written, and take myself and my loved ones out of the sentences and put God and his loved ones in - I am humbled.  I am overwhelmed with how I take Him for granted, and put Him last on my list of those I desire to be with - not intentionally but my actions show it.  I have a deeper understanding - way far from what it really is - but a deeper understanding of His longing to be with His children.  I will never ever do for my family what God did for me.  I will never ever understand nor experience the depth of His love for me, until I am with Him in paradise. I will never ever understand why some of the things in our lives happen, such as our babies moving away, and how that can be for our good until I am with Him and can see things thru His infinite eye.

Today is a solemn day.  I rejoice in my Saviors love for me that I do not deserve.  Yet, in my humanness I selfishly want what I want regardless of the will of God, or what may be better for someone else.  I am going to work on rejoicing more, so that it can over power and over shadow me, and God's loving and tender care can carry me thru this time.  

How marvelous!  How wonderful! And my song shall ever be: How marvelous!  How wonderful! Is my Savior’s love for me!

Whats your favorite food?

Man I'm a picky eater.  No, its not like I just woke up today and realized that, it has been a fact since I was old enough to say no.  When I was in 6th grade I went to camp and came home with an illustrious award for being the pickiest eater.  No parents could have been prouder of their little daughter than mine that day!

When I was little my dad fixed my plate.  So, I'm blaming him - has to be his fault - my plate was the only one he fixed besides his own, and I'm the only picky eater of the family.  His fault.  He would make my plate exactly like he did his.  Please remember I was in single digits and he was well . . . a grown man.  I was made to sit at the table until my plate was clean no ifs, ands, nor buts about it.  I would put that stuff in my mouth and my taste buds would jump up and shout NOT IN HERE.  You can guess what happened next.

They tried all sorts of things to push me thru that stage.  I tried all sorts of things to get out of that stage.  They set the timer on the oven so that I had to be done before it went off or trouble.  If I put too much ketchup on my plate I had to eat the left over with a spoon.  I used a lot of it to disguise the flavor of the yucky stuff.  I had a sister that liked everything, so if I had something that she liked and I didn't I would scoop it off my plate when they weren't looking and hand it to her under the table.  Mmmmmmmm peas passed from plate to hand to hand. Sometimes I would put the food in my mouth and take a big drink of something wet, and swallow it whole so I didn't have to taste it.  I tried hiding it in my napkin, wiping my mouth after a bite, I tried putting it in my pocket and dumping it after the meal.  I tried everything imaginable.

The result????

I have green rules.  I eat nothing green with a few exceptions; canned green beans, celery, fresh spinach raw, cucumbers, limes, herbs, and any type of lettuce.  The rest?  Never.

I have mushy rules.  Nothing with lumps.  Nothing mixed up.  No oatmeal, cream of wheat, cottage cheese, squash, pumpkin pie, tapioca, creamed anything, and definately NO mashed potatoes.  With the exception of Lemon Meringue Pie, and Banana Cream Pie, and pudding.  Oatmeal is fine topping a pie, or in a cookie.

I have plate issues.  Don't let my food touch.  Ever.  I don't mix food - I eat all of one thing and then move on to another.  I don't like casseroles where everything is mixed.  However, will eat depending on the ingredient.

I eat cows, pigs, chickens, and turkey.  The end.  No other meat.  Ever.

I don't do dairy.  I don't drink milk, eat ice cream, of course earlier said mention of cottage cheese, yogurt, and some cheeses.  I do however eat some cheese, and there is one brand of yogurt I will force down.

I don't like eggs, mushrooms, cauliflower, parsnips, nor turnips.  I don't like rutabagas, pomegrantes, and mango.  I really don't like any breakfast food but do like bacon and potatoes and bread - so how does that work?  I really really really do not like soups.

Picky.  Very very picky.  How have I survived 53 years this way?  I can't wait to tell you that I'm not NEAR as picky as I used to be.  And maybe if I live to be 100 I'll try oatmeal and other mushy stuff because i won't have teeth to chew.

What brought all this about?  Yesterday my friend was here and we were baking.  She asked me what my very favorite food was.  I thought and thought and thought.  My answer?  Chips and dip, or baked potatoes, or french fries.  Thats it. The favorite.  After I told her that, and saw the disdained look in her eye, it really dawned on my just how picky I really am.  Its pretty disgusting!  I eat meat because well - its necessary.  However I like meat taste covered up with other stuff.  Like sauce, or other foods combined - like lasagne or tacos.  Yeah like that.  I can eat meat but not plain.  

Whenever we have company over for a meal, I share my pickiness with them and at first they look at me like have three eyeballs, but then they are comfortable sharing what they don't like.  I'm good with that - and I like knowing that no one is sitting at my table trying to find a way to make their food look like it disappeared.  And no one has taste buds saying NOT IN HERE.  There is something comforting about that. However, they always address my pickiness like I'm some sort of freak at some point during the meal.

When i worked at the elementary school, I was good friends with the cooks.  They used to fix all the crap I don't like on the same day and I would bring my lunch!  They served fish sticks, mashed potatoes and peas.  It smelled terrible in that place.  The combination of the fish stick and the peas - ew - I'm throwing up in my mouth a little bit.

The question is where do I go from here?  No where!  I will stand by my picky guns!  It is obvious I'm not going without, and so far I've been a picture of health (my back twisting had nothing to do with malnutrition).  30 years ago I only ate chips and dip, french fries, and meatless tacos and drank diet pepsi.  I've come along way baby - I now have meat in my tacos, and I've switched to coke.  There is hope for me yet!

Yesterday at the chiro, I was telling the staff that I was anorexic  in my 20's.  I told them that there is now two of me.  Jim should consider himself one lucky man - how many men get the privilege of marrying one woman and ending up with two in the same.  Lucky Lucky man.  Combine that with all my personalities and wow - there's a lot of me to go around!!!!!

Final word?  I'm a work in progress.  God isn't finished with me yet.  Who knows?  There may come a day that I satiate the appetite with something out of the water with mashed potatoes and peas, washing it down with a cold glass of milk.  God is a God of miracles, so I don't say never - but I wouldn't hold my breath!

A Friend - One of God's most precious gifts

Spaghetti.  Faiith. Warm delicious cookies. Advocate. Books.  Children.  Perfectly organized refrigerator. Gentle.  Loving.  Chow Mein noodles.  Mmmmmm coffee.  Letters.  Friend.  Helpmate. Cards.  Passionate.  Wife.  Giving.  Trustworthy.  Motherly.  Caring. Tender.  Quilts.  Yellow.

A little girl lost her father.  Her mother was out of the picture, and her dad was all she had.  She loved him so much. He was sick and death was emminent, but she was in 4th grade and who's daddy dies when your in 4th grade?  The teacher had to be the one to break the news to a little group of 4th grade children, and they were devastated.  She asked me to be in the room when she told them as who knows what their reaction will be.  Some may be non chalant as it makes no sense, others may act out in disbelief, and yet some may just fall apart coming from an insecure world of their own.

I went.  I went to support her in this most difficult task.  I felt strong, and as if I was able to assist in whatever capacity she may need.  She sat the children down on the floor in front of her and she sat down on one of their little chairs to be closer to them.  The air was tense and the children knew something was up, as this was just way out of the ordinary.  One exclaims, "where is Mary?"  Another feels the safety of the secure environment she'd created jeapardised and sits very close to her, touching her leg.  

She takes a deep breath, and tells the class that Mary's dad passed away.  It was quiet.  It was uncomfortable.  It was filled with an unknowing on all fronts.  The teachers, mine, and the students.  It seemed like hours, but realistically seconds later - one of the students - one of the more difficult students with a very shakey almost non existant homelife - let out a cry and jumped into her teachers lap crying uncontrollably.  The teacher began to talk to the students about death, and family, and Mary, and fear, and hope, and love.  She told them how they could help Mary through this, and how they could be her family.  She let them ask questions, and get their thoughts out there so they didn't haunt them the rest of the day, wondering if this could happen to them.  All the while she spoke to these children, in her motherly loving and tender way, she held this shattered little girl in her lap.  Close.  Caressing her little head, and kissing her on the forehead.  

This was no ordinary teacher.  While a mom, this was no ordinary mother.  While a caring human being, this was no ordinary concerned citizen.  THIS was a woman worthy of note.  A woman of faith poured out and shaken up.  A gift.  A treasure.  While I was there to assist her in the meeting of the needs of these littles, I was the one that was taught.  I was given a gift that day.  I got to see what a selfless person does in the midst of grief.  I witnessed what true love and care looked like when it wasn't poured out among your own loved ones, but those your life affects nonetheless.  

She was my friend before.  I had the utmost respect for her, and deeply admired her passion for kids.  I watched her instill a love of reading and a love affair with books to her students.  I watched her students find her in eyesight and then I watched their faces light up.  I experienced the classroom when she would vascilate between the roles of mother, nurse, dietician, disciplinarian, friend, judge, counselor, and teacher.  I watched her go to bat putting everything on the line for those with no voice.  I saw evidence of a very timid person blessed with a spirit of boldness when it came to the needs of a child.

She changed my life.  She became more than a friend.  She became someone I wanted to emmulate.  I saw things in her character that humbled me, and I wanted to be more like her.  Today, 20 some years later, when i hear her voice a calm comes over my spirit.  When I hear her laugh, my heart is warmed.  In my last post I mentioned a little yellow box with writing on it - it is hers.  When I showed the box to Jim he knew immediately who it was from, and you could see the thought of her warming his heart as well.  Our sons admire her, and of all the people in their lives she probably holds the position of most respect.

Miss Billye they call her.  I call her friend . . . . and I am blessed beyond measure!

Happy Birthday friend!

Proverbs 31:

26 She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
30 Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.

This is the Day . . . .

Today was the day.  Jim decided to brace his knee and make the trek to the attic to pull out the Christmas decorations.  Oh my Lord where does all that stuff come from, and how does one household accumulate so much stuff that sits out for a few weeks a year.  And . . . why?????

Jim kept bringing bin after bin after bin.  He placed them outside on each of our patio chairs so that I could get to them easily without having to bend and stress my back.  Now for those that don't live in the sunny southwest, it is 80 degrees today, and I can unpack those bins as I want and if they get left out overnight - who cares?!!!!!  

Then came tree after tree after tree.  I don't even know where they came from.  One was this mangled thing that you could cast bets on and no one would guess at tree.  To the trash it went!  Once all the goodies were out of the attic, Jim decided to get the lights hung outside.  Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas!!!!!

As I began pulling things from the bins, memories began to flood.  I first pulled out the precious decorations that belonged to Big Gram.  I look at them tenderly, and hold them and almost caress them as I reflect back on where they sat in her home.  For just a minute I don't want to leave that place.  Then comes the New Hampshire moose, sent to me from my dear friend our first Christmas away from each other after so many years.  Next comes a little yellow box - empty - but unable to part with - that says "To Lynn - a snowman that is fitting for a house full of boys!", given to me by one of my favorite people in the whole wide world!

Then as I'm going thru the things that we have decorated the house with over the course of our 34 years, I remember each and every one of them.  A sleigh from my aunt with all of our names on it, and a serving tray that says "Snowdens" on it.  The ornaments that the boys made when they were little, and the ones that my mom gave us year after year that build the memories hanging on the tree.

My favorite ornament is one my Gram made and only I can say it is absolutely hideous!  Years ago when we were little, my dad and all of his siblings and spouses went to Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve at Gram and Gramps.  It was the most awesome thing.  Just them - no kids - enjoying each other after all those years.  Gram would cook a meal and the afterward the women would make something christmasy to take home.  Then each of them bought gifts for each other and they had a gift exchange.  They loved it and had so much fun.  One particular year the women took thread spun ornaments and decorated them with beads and the like.  Well, I got Grams somehow.  WOW - a little blingy!!!  She took a blue bulb and in rows from top to bottom about a quarter inch apart all around she put shiny beads.  In the very center of the front she made a shiny beady design, and then hung a crystalish bead to dangle at the bottom.  Truly blingy and my Emma would have simply found Gram to be divine and loved decorating with her!!!!!  When I pull that ornament out I half cry and half laugh and I get excited to hang it on the tree.  One year I was putting up the tree and a young girl made a comment about that bulb and how ugly it was and why would I hang it on our tree.  I was so hurt, and kinda mad.  As I reflect on that, it wasn't until she said something that caused me to really consider it, that I realized the value that silly thing had.  From that point on, I have never looked at that particular ornament the same, and for some reason its value has increased immeasureably.

As I sat down to rest my back, and took a look at all the stuff unloaded out of their bins, I began remembering Christmas's past, as if it was a movie going on inside my head.  Grampa spent hours decorating their Christmas tree and it was beyond perfect.  Every bulb (or blub as he called them) was placed strategically on the tree - and perfect.  He trimmed it so that it was exactly uniform and it took up a good 1/3 of their small living room.  Gram had cornices on each of her windows and upon them were crazy styrofoam cups that each had a letter and a streamer of ribbons coming from them to spell out Merry Christmas on one cornice and Happy New Year on the other.  Another after Christmas Dinner project, I'm sure.  We would go down to their house and we would sit on the floor in front of the tree and wait for Grampa to turn it on.  It was like the biggest happening of the year!  We ooohed and aaaahed and each year it was like it was the first year we'd ever experienced it!!   Life was simple then.

From there I went to the year that we lived on a farm, and I was working third shift.  Jim and the boys were getting ready to decorate the tree (tradition) and I was laying on the couch watching them and somewhat napping til I had to go to work.  I must have fallen asleep before they had finished, and awoke to find them - all four - laying on the floor admiring the tree, unaware that they had fallen asleep themselves and the tree had fallen over on top of them!  They had decorated the front so heavy it fell over!!!!!!!  I remember the boys favorite thing about Christmas was getting their very own 3 foot coloring book and 64 crayons, along with their own case of soda and bag of dorito chips.  You'd think they had been given the world!!!!!!!!  So many many memories; my heart is full.

This decorating thing is exhausting.  Not just physically but emotionally, and spiritually, and mentally.  This year I wasn't going to do it, but when we found out littles were coming I knew it was necessary.  There are stil many many more memories to be made.  Maybe none that will be the same as years past, but new ones and good ones, and many of them.

So, this is the day!  This is the day that I realize that Christmas isn't about should I or should I not put up Christmas due to who is or who isn't going to be here.  This is the day that I realize that Christmas is about memories, and loved ones, and gratitude, and emotions, and love.  This is the day that I remember that those things are made possible because of the great love of the one who died for me - the very one who's birth we celebrate.  This is the day that I repent - for thinking that it was about me and what I am missing from my life (my family) and not what was done for me by the one who's birth its about.  So, for now . . . I'm gonna continue to reflect on my many Christmas's celebrated, the loved ones in my life - here or there or gone before me, but mostly  . . . . sitting in the solitude I'm going to rejoice knowing that before I was even born - He loved me.  He loved me enough to die for me and plan for my eternity.  This is the day . . . 

This is the day that the Lord has made.  I WILL rejoice and be glad in it!!!!!!!!!!!

Karma? Nah . . . .

Many years ago, almost 30, I had the good pleasure of getting to know one incredible woman.  She was single with two young boys, raising them on her own, their dad was in the picture but lived in another state.

What made her so incredible?  She had to work a full time job to support her boys.  Thats not so terribly incredible.  But . . . one boy had a heart defect - the youngest, and the other.  Oh the other.  The other boy had downs syndrome.  He was very high functioning, but life had its struggles nonetheless.

For the purpose of this post, and the anonymity of the family I will change the names.  Going forward the mother will be Grace and the children will be Bob (oldest) and Bill (youngest).

Bob was about 11 when I met Grace.  He was one of the happiest, polite, and full of life young men I'd ever met.  His disabilities were obvious, but Grace made sure that he do what was necessary to reach his full potential - and stretch it when possible.  Bob loved music, and had his favorite actors.  Each time I would see him he would make sure that I still liked his favorites!  He would greet me with a big ole smile, a handshake, and then a hug.  He would address me by name, and ask me how I was.

Bill was a handsome young man.  Giant blue eyes that sparkled just like his mom's.  His smile was the same too. But the most significant thing that Bill inherited was his mothers spirit; kind, gentle, loving, and patient.  He wasn't allowed to participate in sports due to his heart defect, and he had to wait until he was a certain age before they would do any surgery on him to correct the defect.  He had good days and bad.  She stressed over it - maybe moreso than trials with Bob. 

Grace took her role as parent very seriously.  How she managed to work her job, care for her home, and her two sons was beyond me.  Everything was terribly organized, and her home was a cozy homey secure place to be.  Her faith was paramount.  Her love for the Lord, I know, carried her through - and her dedication to her faith was something to be respected.  She taught her boys about the love of the Lord, and one of the greatest experiences I had with her was going to their church.  I walked in and there was Bob.  As a young teen he was a greeter and boy did people love him.  He walked me right up to her in the pew and was so stinkin proud of himself.  During the worship I watched him.  He stood in his greeter seat singing as if his life depended upon it - off key at that - with his arms raised in the air praising his Savior.  I was humbled.

Bob had yearly IEP's done at the school.  Individual Education Program.  Grace read them word for word and let the image burn on her brain so that she could monitor and make sure all the necessary and involved parties were doing what they committed to in the IEP.  Of course, Bob had no idea about the IEP, and when in 10th grade came home and was telling her about his day.  She immediately caught on to the fact that Bob's IEP was most definitely not being enforced.  She scheduled a meeting with the teacher and was so upset.  She didn't waste a minute.  She got on the phone with the Department of Education and got the wheels rolling. She did her homework and found the best school that would meet his needs and she insisted he be placed there.  And so it was.  Next problem?  Because Bob was disabled he qualified for transportation to and from school.  However, they told her that they wouldn't be able to put him on the bus at this time.  Not working for her.  Bob's first day of school, Grace drove him to school, and then went to pick him up.  She pulled right in the bus lane to wait for him to come out.  Several of the school officials came to tell her that she needed to move as the line was for busses.  She stood right up to them and told them that she was Bob's bus and wasn't moving.  If they didn't want her waiting there, then they would see to it that he got on a yellow bus.  Within 48 hours, he was!!

There are so many things like that she did for Bob and Bill.  Bob ended up working as a bag boy at a local grocery, and then later at a mexican restaurant. He was loved, and the clients would ask for him!  He was a favorite at the high school, and the homecoming queen asked him to be her escort at the ceremony.  Bill went on to college and did quite well.  He had his heart surgery and all worked out well.  Bob stayed with his mom, as she didn't believe that putting him in a group home would give him any better quality of life than what she could, and so it was.

In the early 90's she found a lump in her armpit.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a lumpectomy.  She continued to work full time, caring for her kids, and going thru chemo.  She lost her hair, but never got sick.  She decided to have fun with it, so each time you would see her she would have a different color wig on.  One day I went to her place of employment in the morning, and we decided to meet for lunch.  In the morning she had a blonde shoulder length wig on.  When I met her at the restaurant she was a short cut red head!!  She cracked me up!  She survived.

She survived until around 2000.  She called me crying, the cancer was back and in her lung.  She had gone thru lung surgery to have it removed and then chemo again.  It didn't work - and she suffered.  She had the help of her family, and her boys were of adult age.  Bill came home to care for her, and Bob just loved on her.    She rested steadfast in the love of her Heavenly Father, and His comfort and peace carried her through her last days.  She died on my birthday 2001. That was the last time I saw Bill and Bob.

Sometime in late 2008, I was working at one of our buildings, and I saw a young man that I almost went up to to say hello.  I was convinced it was Bill.  I decided not to, as I wasn't sure where he was, and last I knew he was still in the midwest - not AZ.  I couldn't let it rest, so when  I got home I looked him up on Facebook - and found him.  He was living in the very town that I worked.  I sent a friend request and we hooked up via Facebook.  We had great conversation remeniscing about his mom and brother and their life.  After that initial contact, I haven't spoken to him but maybe once or twice.

Two days ago, Bill put on Facebook pictures of his new son.  He is a proud dad!!  Today I was in the garage looking around at some books we had spread out on a table to give away, when one caught my eye.  It was a little paperback book, with Bob's name on it - in Grace's writing.  I couldn't believe it.  I immediately contacted Bill asking if he would like it and naturally being his mother's son,  he was delighted.

What is most awesome about this is while Grace is dancing on streets that are golden and she is seated at God's right hand - she lives on.  She has a grandchild now, and he won't know her in this life.  But, thru a simple book that his Daddy can read to him and that can provoke talks about his Gramma - she lives on.   He will be able to share her faith with his son, and tell her how God raised her up.  He can tell his son about a Proverbs woman, and encourage him to pray for that kind of wife.  He can not only tell about the Proverbs woman - he can introduce his mother to his son as what the Proverbs woman looks like.

Can a little book about seasons provoke all of this?  I believe so.  I have carried these books over many miles for many years.  They have traveled from a farm in Iowa to the city of Las Vegas, to the little town of Pahrump, and settled here in Arizona.  That little book about the seasons was a hidden little gem, and had a destiny, one that was almost missed.  God's timing is impeccable.  Had I not have just seen the posting of the birth of Bill's son, that book would never have caught my eye and off to some other childs bookshelf it would have gone.  But God had a different plan with something as simple and small as a paperback book.  Now it will rest on the shelf of a little boy that will possibly be introduced to his Gram in a way he wouldn't otherwise.

When my back is better and I'm able to sit up, I'm going to go to meet this little guy.  When I hold him close and feel his heartbeat, I will think of her and I will hold him close as if for just one moment I was stepping in her shoes for him and I will tell him she loves him for her, cuz I know she would want me to.

All because of a book.  All because of a mighty God that cares about the little details.  I miss her, and think of her often.  My life was changed because of her, and my parenting was bettered because of her.  Her moxy taught me what it looked like to stand up for what you know to  be right, and her tenacity for life taught me that regardless of circumstance, God is still God, and He will give you all you need to walk thru whatever is set before you.

I love you . . . . Grace.

To Decorate or Not . . . .

Yes, we should.  Nah . . . not necessary.  Well maybe its the right thing.  What do you think?  Well why wouldn't you?  Are you depressed? 

All about the decorations.  I have a poinsettia and its beautiful.  And I have a red table runner which looks festive.  Plus, I found a Merry Christmas metal wreath with red cardinals on it and hung it on the front of the house.  Isn't that enough?  Guess not.

There are lots of reasons why.  The biggest reason is because we are cripples!!  Jim is scheduled for knee surgery two days after Christmas, and I'm still flat on my back for the most part.  All of our decorations are in the attic and he can't climb the ladder to get to it.  I'm not much help if you can imagine that!

We were sure we were going to be alone this Christmas, as all of our kin are elsewhere.  This will be the first without most of our grands.  We've never spent a holiday away from them until this year and its a thick thing to walk thru.  So, with both of us laid up - me with my back and Jim with his knee - and all of the Christmas decorations in the attic, we decided maybe not this year.

We weren't really sure if the don't decorate idea came from sadness, or from reality.  We thought if we were going to be alone we may take off and do something different and start our own senior tradition.  The look on peoples faces when we would say we weren't gonna decorate was as if we had three eyeballs and they didn't quite know how to look at us without staring!

I love to decorate.  I love the smell of the candles, and the fire going, and watching how the house transforms.  I love to bake cookies - another thing we won't be doing together this year - and smelling the deliciousness permeate the house.  I love watching Jim devour the goods!  I love carefully placing each cookie on the give away plate so it looks inviting, and then watching others as they taste the goodness.  I think of all the kids and what their favorites are.  I reminisce of the days when they were little boys and would help make, bake and eat.  I remember making a plethora of cookies and filling the freezer full of them to the brim.  We would start day after Thanksgiving and bake each chance we got.  Funny thing was, when it was time to put the cookie plates together, the boxes in the freezer were next to empty.  Funnier yet - no one ate them!!!!!  You'd think I would have learned my lesson, but each year the same thing happened, and each year i was as surprised as the year before.

Sometimes when life gets ahead of me this time of year and I'm just not feelin the holiday spirit, I contemplate not decorating.  I did that once - didn't decorate.  It haunts me to this day.  It was a particularly hard year, and my Gram had just passed away.  I was down and sad and really wrapped up in my own stuff, and couldn't bring myself to do Christmas decorating.  We didn't go get a tree, and I didn't get out any decorations.  Jimmy was about 10ish.  On Christmas Eve he asked his dad to go into the woods and help him cut down a tree.  They did, and they set it up.  It was pretty crooked and they couldn't make it stand up.  So, Jim got some fishing line and a screw and screwed it into the corner of the paneled wall. Jimmy went to the attic and got some decorations and lights and he made Christmas.  We had gifts for the kids, so Santa showed up, but along with my self absorbed sad self, I filled my gut with humble pie.  I'm convinced that borders child abuse - and probably one of Jimmy's worst childhood memories of all.

As we were deciding not to decorate, I was haunted by that cedar tree wired to the wall, and a little boy with great big puppy dog brown eyes that were filled with dissappointment in his mom.  So, the internal war was being fought within me, and the battle raged.  One day don't was winning, when I couldn't get off the couch and Jim was icing his knee.  Another day do was winning, and I was setting out the Christmas placemats or changing the air fresheners to mistletoe and fresh balsam.

Then we get the call.  With Luke and family gone, we didn't even think that Josh and Deb and their littles would be coming all this way.  They are!  We will have little Seth and Emily here for 4 days, and that was just the kick in the rear we needed.  They can't come to Christmas and have no tree.  They can't come to Papa's house and not have it all lit up with lights.  They can't go without Christmas cookies, and I think I may just wait to make some of them when they are here.  I think I may get everything else done, so that they can sit at the table and make cookies and memories and messes, one not meaning anything without the other two.  I will put them in the littles aprons and give them their tools and let them go at it.  They will have their new christmas jammies given on Christmas Eve as is our tradition.  And they will climb into bed on Christmas Eve, to awake to a room full of gifts.  They will have Papa's breakfast as tradition has it, and they will play and play and play.  We will all share a meal together, and make memories around the table.  Different memories than years past, but memories nonetheless.  It will be good.  We will be blessed.

We have had to summons help - but it will be done.  Today I picked up some cinnamon scented pine cones!  I did a little online shopping,and dug around in the garage trying to see if I could find anything - to no avail!

The verdict is - to decorate.  Here is what I've learned:

Sometimes we spend more time thinking about what it isn't, rather than seeing what it is.

Sometimes we pay way more attention to what we don't have than what we do.

Sometimes we think way more about our own feelings and circumstances than those we propose to love.

Sometimes we are way to ungrateful rather than taking just a moment to value the many ways our lives are rich, full of blessings.

Sometimes . . . .sometimes we learn a really valuable lesson.

Her Children arise and call her Blessed. . . . .

It was December 3rd, 1903 when Florence Matilda was born into this world.  She was born to Hans and Emma Jacobs in Davenport IA.  She was a sister to many brothers (upwards of 9) and one sister.  Black hair, smokey blue eyes, and a heart as big as the sky.

Well you say, who is this person so worthy of note?  This is my Big Gram!  Flo to some, Tilly to others, Florency to some loved ones, but mostly Mom and Gram.  I would like to take the time to dedicate a post about her.  I believe as this blog evolves there will be so many references to her as she was such an influential person in my life, and many of  my character traits come from her.  So, for the reader and for my opportunity to revisit who she is, it will be of great benefit.

Gram told me very little about her childhood and her growing up experiences.  Life was very hard for her from the beginning, and over the course of her years, that didn't change much.  Having the privilege of watching her walk thru it, taught me a great deal.  I believe there is very little pain and suffering I will experience that could be even measured to what she suffered and yet . . . she chose to be a blessing to many.

Hans had a heavy hand, and ran a very tight German ship.  He took his horse whip to the dinner table, and should any one of the many children step out of line, the whip was cracked . . . literally.  The household was ran with a great deal of fear, and a lot of work for the two daughters.

As a very young girl, she met William Melvin at a funeral held in the parlor of a home on 2nd St in Davenport IA.  They took to each other, and it wasn't long and she became his Mrs.  She was beautiful.  Her hair was long and braided and dark black.  She was tall and slender and had huge blue eyes.  And she was timid.  And she was magnetic.  And he fell in love.  Sounds like a fairy tale, but trying to remove herself from the difficult home life, she walked into another.

While she never spoke about it to me, I learned that she was pregnant.  William (Billy, Willy, or Mel) had an even worse childhood, and had determined that he wanted no children.  They married, and shortly after, he forced her to abort.  Of course, back in those days (1925) abortion was illegal, so he brought a "nurse" to the house to "take care of it".  Gram was destroyed.

God had a different idea for their life.  Shortly after the abortion, she got pregnant again and had the first of their children.  Eighteen months later, came number two.  Two years later came number three.  When Gram got pregnant with number four, her first born was eight.  First born recalled one night while in bed, a nurse came to the house, and took Gram into her bedroom.  All that firstborn remembers was hearing Gram scream . . . and the blood.  Less than 9 months later came number four - the one that was to be aborted - but lived.  He was the only child they had born in a hospital, the rest were all home births.  Two years later came number five.  My dad.  Then four years later came the last - number six.

Six children!!  She was just crazy about them; they were her life.  She had a blast with them!  She would stir them up, and then do something crazy, and then they would all laugh.  She tells the time that number four (who was the one that knew how to work her best) would keep at her and nag and nag and nag, until she would be at wits end.  One day she was making dinner and was mashing the potatoes.  She had just about enough of him, and she had a scoop of potatoes on the spoon, she spun around and slung the potatoes at him.  He ducked and they hit number one (the timid and shy one) right in the head!  Number one didn't have a clue what hit her and what she should do next.  The whole kitchen erupted into laughter!!!!!

They didn't have much.  Early I mentioned the two of them meeting at a funeral in a home on W 2nd St.  That is the home they ended up buying and raising their family in.  They lived in that house their entire lives - Gram til she was 87 and Gramp til he was almost 96.  They were married 65 years when she died.  Gram could cook anything out of anything.  She made turtle soup, and pigeon.  She made her homemade bread, and soup out of anything she could find.   She used every part of every animal available to her; nothing went to waste.

They suffered thru the depression.  Not just the depression as an era, but serious depression thru the depression.  You see due to Gramps difficult childhood, he suffered from mental illness.  Somehow he managed to live a healthy life, until number six was about 4.  At that time, he began acting out, and he was a danger to himself.  She and the neighbor had discussed his behaviors and she was at a loss of what to do.  The mental illness caused his job loss, and began taking over the household.  She decided with the neighbors help to have Grampa committed.  She spoke to the doctor and asked that when they come to take him, that they just not put him in a straight jacket because she didn't want her children seeing their father taken that way, as mental illness was taboo.  No such luck.  They arrived to take him and she had to sign the papers committing him.   They didn't follow her wish, and put her husband in a straight jacket and took him off for several years.

She was left to support, love on, and discipline six children ranging in ages of six to eighteen.  The three older had to go to work to help provide for the family, and Gram took a job working in a bar and grill cooking lunch.  It was there that she became known for her magic that happened when food touched her hands!  She was able to take number six to work with her, and the rest were in school.  Life was hard.

Grampa was kept for about six years in the institution, and when they released him after many shock treatments, she was told that he will never be well - but he could live a somewhat normal life without being a danger to himself nor anyone else.  Life became harder.  He was bitter, and often told her that the person on the other end of the pen should have gone away.  She still had littles at home and had to make home a safe happy place where they wanted to be.  And . . . she managed to do that.

Over the years, they found a way to make their marriage work even tho there was bitterness and resentments on both sides.  Back in the day those were things you just didn't talk about.  Grampa wasn't able to return to work, and they were together all the time.  He had many bad days, which meant so did she.  Somehow - in all of it - they genuinely loved each other.  They took care of each other.  They talked with each other.  They had fun together.  But, they never talked about the elephant in the middle of the room.    Months before she passed, they made peace with each other.  What a blessing!

You will read throughout my posts all of the great memories I have of Gram.  You will read of her humor, and her tricks, and her love for life.  You will learn how she molded me and taught me, and loved me in a way that words could never even begin to describe.  All of this you have read, I knew nothing about until adulthood.  I had no idea how she suffered and what she had walked thru in childhood, child bearing, and child rearing.  Many of my plethora of cousins know nothing about what she was made of - I count myself blessed.  Why?

Gram was very intuitive.  I'm sure that came from her life's experiences, or maybe God just gifted her that way.  Because of our closeness, I was able to talk to her about anything and everything.  As a very little girl she taught me life's greatest lesson.  It was accompanied by a little jingle, and I don't remember exactly how she said it, but nonetheless it has molded me and kept me from despair.  She told me that happiness was a choice, and that it took as much energy to smile as it did to frown.  She said on a day when you don' feel like smiling that is the day you need to make yourself do it.  Because when you smile, people smile back at you, and pretty soon the smile is real and you don't feel like frowning anymore.  She told me to make that choice because I was going to go thru the day no matter what and in the long run life would be better if I made the choice to smile and be happy.  The jingle?  "Never let the corners of your mouth turn down".

Today I understand.  Then, I listened to her and trusted her word and took heed, and was always glad I did because she was right.  Today the words those words are real because I know she lived what she told me to do.  I never knew she suffered.  I never knew she walked thru the pits of hell.  I never knew there was bitterness and resentment between her and Grampa.  Not because this was a hidden untalked about subject, but because she made a choice.

Today is the day we celebrate her life.  This day each year, I reflect on the life lessons she taught me.  Each year as I walk thru yet another one with its up and downs, I think about her and how she rose above her circumstances to be a woman of honor, one that 107 years after her birth she is still being recognized, missed, and loved.  I can only hope that I leave a legacy such as this.  I have not suffered; I don't think that is a requirement.  I have loved - my hope is that i have and can love deep enough, self sacrificially enough, and unconditionally enough that 100 years after my birth I'm being recognized, missed, and loved.  I'm fortunate to have had a mentor and a role model, the rest is up to me.  Thank you Gram, I love you!

Proverbs 31:29  "Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all."

A Sight for Sore Eyes!

I have a zit.  What is that about?  I haven't had zits since I was having my kids a long time ago!  Its there tho, big as life, and I can't keep my hands off it.  Its driving me nuts, so I begin to question why its there.

Could it be from the new makeup I'm wearing?  That could be.  I was used to bare minerals and have switched to old lady makeup because the ad said it got rid of that "washed out" look.

Could it be from the weather?  That could be.  Its been really cold here and we've been using the fireplace and running the furnace.  Didn't really know that weather could cause a zit, but it is possible.

Could it be menopausal?  Possibly.  Covers on, covers off.  Laughing now, crying in a second.  Possible.

Could it be from the stress I'm under?  Very probable.  Between me on my back, and Jim's bum knee, and fighting with disability, and having to rely on others for your basic needs - probable.  Oh and I forgot to mention the holidays - you know - when you shop and decorate and bake?  Yeah, that too.

Or . . . . . could it be from my diet?  What diet - I'm not on any diet?  Well, you know - the one where you eat things that are quick and comforting as you lay around.  Kinda like the lunch I'm just now enjoying (which precipitated this post) the homemade turkey pot pie (which is delish by the way), chips and dip, a sliver of apple pie (had to finish it off or it would go to waste), oh and for dessert a hersheys with almonds.  Now before you go and say anything, the apple pie was part of the fruit pyramid, and not being wasteful. I'm enjoying a healthy cup of coffee (which helps prevent cancer) and a diet coke (helps break down the calories of said pie and candy bar).  

I think we know the culprit.  They say you are what you eat, and that is just down right scary.  As I'm typing this, and eating the hershey bar (very good and fresh by the way), I take note of myself.  I am quite confident that if a burglar came to our house, and took a look at me, he would turn and run and say NOPE not goin in there!!!  

I had a very bad back day yesterday and didn't sleep well.  I got up this morning, grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down - right out of bed.  I didn't move until I was hungry enough to get up to fix lunch.  My hair hasn't been combed, I have on a brown camisole, a blue fleece long sleeved shirt, black sweats, brown socks, and purple slippers - and a big fat zit on my chin.  I'm sitting on the recliner side of the couch, leaned way back because I can't sit up, with the chips and dip on one side, blanket partway over my lap, pillow stuffed under my back to support it, dish towel on arm of couch because eating reclined . . . well you get it . . . and on the other side is my plethora of drinks, a notepad and pen, and my bible.  RUN BURGLAR RUN!!!

Truly, I am a site for sore eyes.  Its a scary thing - but it is what it is!  When I think about it I ask myself - are you depressed?  Sad?  Unhappy?  Cuz your lookin like it.  But as I reflect I can say back to self  - nope - none of the above.  I hurt, I'm hungry, and I'm very very blessed.  

Today I learned a close friend's husband has cancer.  Little James is struggling with a cold and it is so hard for him to protect his airway anyway.  My mom, in her 70's, has had to return to work behind the chair due to the economy, and she hurts and is in pain.   So many are suffering, I'm not.  God has been gracious to me, and provided my needs and my comfort - I do not suffer.  I think one of the greatest lessons I've learned being down so long, is the difference between pain -  and suffering, going without - and suffering, being away - and suffering a loss.  I don't suffer.  I may not like nor relish the thought of nor want pain - going without - or being away, but its not suffering.  

I am fortunate.  I am fortunate because I can look at this big fat zit and find it a problem, and be bothered by it.  I am fortunate because I will recover from my back.  I am fortunate because I go without very little.  I am fortunate because while my loved ones are away I can get to them, and them me.  I am fortunate because today, I can sit here in my slobbiness and write about how good my God is.

What I have learned:

I have learned that I know nothing about suffering. 

I have learned that I need to be more keenly aware of how good life really is.

I have learned that while my zit is a simple problem to many, but a big issue to me, it still matters!  Oh in the big scheme of things its stupid, but it still matters.  It matters enough that I have taken time to reflect on areas of my life that otherwise I may not have.  I've been able to put into perspective the difference between suffering and uncomfortableness.  I have learned that until I get to the place that I can be uncomfortable without complaining, I will never ever be able to rejoice in suffering, should I be called to that some day.

I have learned that until I spend more time getting to know my God, and how he supplies all my needs, and meets me where I am, I will never move from this place of pettiness called a zit.  I know all of this, and I've had the great privilege of experiencing it, but do I really KNOW it?

I want to know Him more, I want to hear His voice, I want to know that should I ever be put in a place of suffering, I can rejoice knowing that HE is the great comforter and I can trust that.  How I go about that is up to me, IF I go about that is also up to me.  Pray for me.

The Peril of the Sweet tooth

And so here we are at yet another holiday season.  We sleep too much, and shop too much and eat too much.  Not only stuff thats healthy and good for you, like turkey and dressing and cranberry salad; but things like fudge and cookies, and pie. Lots and lots of pie.

Sweets have a way of providing some sort of comfort to the soul.  The warm apple pie with the scoop of french vanilla ice cream, just has a simple magic about it.  Candles are made to smell like it, and so are air fresheners!  There is just something about that smell.  There have been times, that even upon the thought of fresh apple pie with crumble topping, I can begin to salivate. 

This particular Thanksgiving was no exception to the rule.  I baked the apple pie the day before Thanksgiving, and its just a good thing I made two.  The whole house was filled with the deliciousness of fresh apple pie smell.  When you walked up to the house, it began to work its magic, sucking you in to a taste test before the big event.   

As I was eating a piece of the pie I had a new experience. . . not a pleasant one.  I felt a little zing in my top right molar.  Uh Oh.  Not happy.  Not loving the dentist.  I have always had a terrible fear of dentists, and like most, avoid them at all cost.  I began to wonder if I pretended that the zing didn't happen - would it go away?  My knees got kinda weak, and I felt the blood rush to my head as fear gripped at my heart.  I know I have a tiny cavity - that if not treated - is a possible problem.

Later on, as I was so stinkin tired - too tired to fall asleep, I began to think about my tooth and how I dread the dentist.  Even tho I dread the dentist as much as having acid poured in my eyeballs, I know its a necessity at some point, no matter how much I try to avoid it.  This provokes a new thought, one that is worthy of note.

I liken my tooth problem to humanness.  I know before I accepted Christ, I knew my life was not a life that was filled with joy and peace and hope, but I feared surrendering my will. I realized that my tooth and my faith were very different but very similar.  

My tooth was only a little zing for now, but left untreated would become a dull ache, and then when least expected would take over my being, and I would end up at the very place I was fearing, and if I didn't succomb sooner than later, the consequence could end up being the loss of the tooth.  Either way I would end up in the chair with the dentist looking down at me, beginning his work.  He would first clean the area.  Then he would take the drill and chip away at the decay until there was only healthy tooth left.  Once he had all the decay removed, he then would fill the empty hole with good healthy material and make the tooth whole once again.  I would be uncomfortable, but pain would be gone.  My tooth would be whole, and I would be able to resume life once again.

Coming to Christ is so much the same.  We avoid it for whatever reason - fear - guilt - pride - whatever, but the bottom line is scripture tells us that one day every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord!  We go thru life thinking we can do it on our own, and when something goes wrong we find ourselves seeking God temporarily, making promises we know we won't keep and really don't much intend to.  But we know we can't fix it on our own so we pray God if you will just do this, or just do that, then I will do whatever it takes!   Then we go back to the same things, getting the same results, and wonder why. 

When we finally surrender to the idea that we need Christ, He is just like the dentist.  We kneel before Him, He looks over us, and begins His work.  Upon our request, He cleans us - washing us white as snow.  He removes the decay, until there is only a healthy soul.  Then He begins to fill the empty places with His spirit and makes us whole.  The old is gone, the new has come.  He lives and dwells within us, and we can then live life free from sin, and free to choose!!!  The very thing we try to avoid, is the very thing that gives us life and life abundant!

What have I learned?

Often suffering is a choice.  I may not see it at the time, but in my humanness I can often choose to ignore life's little zings until they begin to own me.  I suffer because I made a conscious decision not to make changes, or deal with something in its infantile stages when change or consequence would have been minimal.

I've learned that God is able to meet me where I am.  I don't have to wait until I have to cry out Lord Lord.  He knows my needs and is able and willing to meet me where I am!

I've learned that I still love apple pie.  I love the familiarity of it, I love the smell of it, I love the comfort feeling it brings when each and every sense is affected by it.  I've learned that I want my Savior to have that same affect on me - all the time.  

Mostly I've learned that God is bigger than my fear . . . but only if I let Him be.