Are you still there, reading my blog even though I have abandoned you.  I have been silent for a long, long time.  I have essays that float around in my spacious noggin, they flit, float, fly away.  A few have tried to make it to paper, but the actual written form does not live up to the 'mind blog'.  It is flat, dull and not worthy of the digital ink and paper.

It has been a long, cold, snowy, cold winter season.  Did I mention the cold?  Somewhere, somehow I developed adhesive capulitis of the shoulder, also known in layman terms as frozen shoulder.  The range of my arm movement has been restricted and I am now in physical therapy to restore full movement.  I blame the cold, the arctic cold, the arctic plunged, it froze the air, the land, and my shoulder.  Apparently, my brain too, gone into a deep hibernation.  Everything is beginning to thaw ever so slowly.  

Now Spring is here, at least according to the calendar.  Yesterday, one could see the brown grass yet to turn green, the snow was diminishing.   Looking out my window today, one would not have any indication of Spring.  The landscape is white covered in a fresh layer of glistening snow.  Just a few hours ago, the view out the window was much of a snow globe shaken and swirling.  Much like the words, thoughts, stories in my head.

As Spring attempts to overcome Winter, as my shoulder 'thaws' giving my mobility once again, hopefully my mind will also thaw, organize, and again allow written words to come forth.  

Thank you for your patient.  You know who you are, my faithful readers and cheerleaders.

Freedom comes with a price

Human spirit craves for freedom but at the same time desires to control and oppress.  It is a conflict of good and evil, started in the Garden of Eden and that fateful apple.  Wars are fought in protect freedom, to gain freedom, to be free.

Many a warrior have paid the ultimate sacrifice, losing their lives to enable me to live in the 'Land of Free and the Home of the Brave'.  Many a warrior has come home scarred by the terror of war.  To live the rest of their lives with the nightmares of battle.  They return home, to normal, without their comrades, their best friends, their buddies.  They return home to people, who while they were away fighting a war, lived on fairly normally and unable to understand the invisible scars and wounds they will forever carry.

My dad's cousin fought in the trenches of the Great War, WWII.  A gentle man, who danced with my baby girl in his arms.  My husband's uncles battled on the fields of Vietnam.  Men of great laughter and a love of life.  The terrors these men witnessed is beyond my comprehension.

Today, one of these uncles shared the below statistics.  A young man that was fortunate to have returned home as well as his brother.  Other families were not as lucky.  Families and communities forever, irreparably changed when these lives were lost.

My challenge to you:  Thank a veteran, hug a veteran, remember their buddies, never forget the sacrifices made so that you may live free.

**

A little history most people will never know.

Interesting Veterans Statistics off the Vietnam Memorial Wall

There are 58,267 names now listed on that polished black wall, including those added in 2010.

The names are arranged in the order in which they were taken from us by date and within each date the names are alphabetized. It is hard to believe it is 36 years since the last casualties.

The first known casualty was Richard B. Fitzgibbon, of North Weymouth , Mass. Listed by the U.S. Department of Defense as having been killed on June 8, 1956. His name is listed on the Wall with that of his son, Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Richard B. Fitzgibbon III, who was killed on Sept. 7, 1965.

There are three sets of fathers and sons on the Wall.

39,996 on the Wall were just 22 or younger.

8,283 were just 19 years old.

The largest age group, 33,103 were 18 years old. 
12 soldiers on the Wall were 17 years old.

5 soldiers on the Wall were 16 years old.

One soldier, PFC Dan Bullock was 15 years old.

997 soldiers were killed on their first day in Vietnam .

1,448 soldiers were killed on their last day in Vietnam .

31 sets of brothers are on the Wall.

Thirty one sets of parents lost two of their sons.

54 soldiers attended Thomas Edison High School in Philadelphia . 
Why so many from one school?

8 Women are on the Wall, killed while nursing the wounded.

244 soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War; 153 of them are on the Wall.

Beallsville , Ohio with a population of 475 lost 6 of her sons.

West Virginia had the highest casualty rate per capita in the nation. There are 711 West Virginians on the Wall.

The Marines of Morenci - They led some of the scrappiest high school football and basketball teams that the little Arizona copper town of Morenci (pop. 5,058) had ever known and cheered. They enjoyed roaring beer busts. In quieter moments, they rode horses along the Coronado Trail, stalked deer in the Apache National Forest . And in the patriotic camaraderie typical of Morenci's mining families, the nine graduates of Morenci High enlisted as a group in the Marine Corps. Their service began on Independence Day, 1966. Only 3 returned home.

The Buddies of Midvale - LeRoy Tafoya, Jimmy Martinez, Tom Gonzales were all boyhood friends and lived on three consecutive streets in Midvale, Utah on Fifth, Sixth and Seventh avenues. They lived only a few yards apart. They played ball at the adjacent sandlot ball field. And they all went to Vietnam . In a span of 16 dark days in late 1967, all three would be killed. LeRoy was killed on Wednesday, Nov. 22, the fourth anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination. Jimmy died less than 24 hours later on Thanksgiving Day. Tom was shot dead assaulting the enemy on Dec. 7, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.

The most casualty deaths for a single day was on January 31, 1968 ~ 245 deaths - the day after the launch of the Tet Offensive.

The most casualty deaths for a single month was May 1968 - 2,415 casualties were incurred.

For most Americans who read this they will only see the numbers that the Vietnam War created. To those of us who survived the war, and to the families of those who did not, we see the faces, we feel the pain that these numbers created. We are, until we too pass away, haunted with these numbers, because they were our friends, fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters. There are no noble wars, just noble warriors.

**

A princess married to her prince

Getting married is easy 

Staying married is more difficult 

Staying happily married for a lifetime should rank among the fine arts.

--unknown

I was lonely living by myself in the city.  Alone in an apartment.  A girl, young and naive, although an adult by legal standards - a grown up.  On my own, working in the professional world of business while my childhood friends were perusing higher education on college campuses.  I did not feel like I had a friend in the world while sitting alone in the sparsely appointed apartment.  I could not relate to friends of my age, living contrasting lives of the 'real' world versus the 'college' world.

My uncle and I had teased one another about finding the man for me to marry. He said he'd find me a young, rich fellow - a lawyer, doctor, or engineer while I looked for a good looking guy.  I was okay with that idea but I yearned for more.   I found myself alone in my humble abode with a boom box and black/white television for company. Raised on Biblical teachings, I turned to prayer in search of a friend, a confident, a companion, a husband. a life long mate.

Somewhere in my young life I had heard of making a list of the qualities desired in a spouse.  I am not sure I put ink to paper, but I had a list.  These years later, I am not sure I can recall each trait.  I am sure good looking was on there somewhere, rich probably made the list too.  I do recall praying.  I do recall being completely unworthy of the God listening to me, I still am unworthy except for my status through Jesus' redemption.  Yet I prayed.

I remember asking for a guy that can fix anything.  Why?  Because I did not want to worry about repair bills. I think having someone that can repair a toaster or a car is valuable indeed.  

I also distinctly asking for a man that loves Jesus and lives by Biblical principals. Why?  I think this explains itself, a man that loves Jesus is the best trait in a husband.  'Nuf said.

I desired a guy who would be a good father.  A leader of his family.  Firm but gentle.  Loving and kind.

I desired traits such as kindness, generosity, funny, loving, hard working, good looking.  I may have thrown in there a profession of lawyer, doctor, or engineer.

Pretty good list of a girl, a naive girl. 

Not too long from this little prayer, a young man took pity upon me.  He befriended me, took me on fun outings, included me in his family.  I developed a serious crush.  Never I had known a guy to show me such respect and kindness.  I was disappointed when he told me I was like a sister.  I was devastated as he moved across the country, on rather short notice, for an internship to begin his career.

Yet, God had a plan.  This young man showed me how a great man behaves, how he treats a girl.  At his going away party, a group of young people came into room.  In this group was a guy that caught my eye.  I distinctly remember him my first memory of the man God had chosen for me.

This 'guy' caught my fancy.  I am not sure why, he just did.  I kept an eye on him.  Where?  Church.  A large church with several services.  But we were in the same Sunday School group, so we attended the same service and sat in the same room in a smaller group.  I kept my eye on him.  It wasn't long before we were engaged in conversation, as one keeps an eye on another, the two tend to come toe to toe.

Our dating relationship did not last long.  I was just a babe, not yet 19 when we began dating.  He just a bit older.  I was mature beyond my years having earned some of my maturity through a few hardships. God blessed the guy I had my eye on with intelligence and wisdom.  I did not fully know it in those early days, but something in me recognized it.

I would discover he had many of the traits I prayed for previously.  Most importantly he loved Jesus.  Yet in future days we would both falter in our walk with Jesus, our foundations never left us.  He is a guy that has the ability to fix anything, he is kind, generous, and much more.  God instilled in him traits I did not even think to ask for in my youth such as intelligence, work ethic, stability, wisdom, and faithfulness. Custom made for me.

We married young, as I look back, very young.  I felt very mature as a young lady just out of my teens.  Oh! I had much growing up to do. Growing up we did - - together.  We learned together.  We struggled, we succeeded, we failed together.  God knew we were for one another.  Two very different people.  I am convinced, if we had searched for one another on one of those dating sites, we would not have been paired up on compatibility, so very different are we.  But here we are still together for over two decardes.  We forged our way, we developed a partnership, a marriage.

Not always easy, but definitely worth the effort.  I am married to a nearly perfect guy.  I failed to mention in my prayer for a guy to fix anything in a timely manner, one that doesn't procrastinate.  There are many a day I wished I had added that trait in my prayer.  But it is overcome by the many traits I did not dream of in that dream prayer.

Oh, did I mention, he's a engineer by education?  I chuckle today, I got my engineer.   We are not wealthy but we are comfortable.  I am a princess married to a prince.  I am spoiled by a loving husband.  I am more in love with him today than on our wedding day.  I am not just fortunate, I am blessed.  God heard a young girl's heart desire and answered with abundant generosity.  

All traits were not obvious initially.  They developed in time and continue to develop.  We have been together in this journey of life for more than half of our lives.  It is an adventure I cherish and look forward to every year.  I am nearly giddy each year as we approach and celebrate our anniversary. I love to see the number of years together grow higher and higher.  I pray that God will give us long lives of years together as I now can't imagine life without him.  It is important to celebrate this most important earthly relationship, to cherish it, to nurture it.

A princess married to her prince.  Our King is the King of Kings.  There is no better place to be than by the side of my prince serving the King. 

Running!

Maybe you aware of this, perhaps I have shared it, many of you who read my ramblings know me personally so I have probably made your ears hurt talking about running.  I am still in shock myself that I am running.

Ok, my new fettish is only 3.5 months old and I'm on my second pair of shoes.  The furthest I have run 4.5 miles and only once or twice at that distance.   I suck air, I dread going out, I self talk myself into continuing when I would rather stop and just walk home, I definitely run to eat.  I am thrilled when I am done!  I think about the treat I can reward myself with as I run.  But now, a subtle shift is occurring, dare I say it?  I am beginning to like it.  Yes, like, almost enjoy running when nothing is chasing me!  Crazy talk, I know.

For a girl that was told by her chiropractor a few years ago to stop running when I confessed my activities and walked into his office a mess, this is amazing accomplishment to run.  I run and do not have to visit the chiropractor.  I run and the nagging whiplash injury of 25 years ago does not flare.  I run and my knees tell me that 2-3 miles is enough, so do my lungs.  I run!

I am so,thankful everyday for the physical abilities I have that day. I am not crippled by arthritis, nor fighting a dreadful disease, I have minimal pain, I suffer the normal aches of one aging, and now I can run!  

Here is a pic taken at the most recent 5K I participted.  My cherished gear pieces are my sunglasses, and my tunes.  Sunglasses to protect my eyes from glare and dust as I run the gravel roads and tunes to motivate me.

Hue-Hue 5K fun run

Where is the sun?

Recent days there have been reports of the amount of gray days we have seen here in Minnesota.  Depending on the report, 15-25 days in the past 90 days have had sunshine.  Our spring has been cooler than normal, gloomy, rainy, downright dismal.  The good news?  It is nearing the Summer Solstice so our daylight hours are abundant.  It is light from 5 am to nearly 10 pm.  So even though it is gloomy, it is not dark and gloomy, as it can be in December and January.

Many are complaining.  We have a right as Minnesotans that survive the harshness of winter to desire and clamor for spring.  We have earned it.  After days of bitter cold, snow covered, tree barren, sometimes brown grass season, dark days, we have earned bright days full of sunshine, green grass, butterflies, and birds.  This spring has not brought to us what we consider our just desserts.

Rather this spring has brought snow, late spring snows in May!  Our children were kept home April 30 due to a major snow storm.  We did not see green grass and leaves on trees until mid-May.  Birds arrived in April trying to survive the snow and cold.  Some of us have fed them faithfully.  When the snow stopped, the rain began to fall.  There was a day in in the midst that was 98 degrees where we sweltered to be returned to the 50s and 60s.   The heat is still on in most homes, our shorts and t-shirts still tucked away in the back of closets and in bins under the bed. Definitely not a spring of rewards following a winter season of cold and snow.

I have pondered this cold spring.  I called my father that has lived his entire life, as I, in Minnesota.  I received confirmation that indeed this is not the first nor only spring that is cold and snowy.  In fact, it isn't all that rare.  Dad and I reminisced of previous cold springs.

As others have complained and lamented, I have been more quiet in appreciation of this spring.  Well, once the snow stopped, I appreciate this spring weather.   I am not one for high heat and humidity.  In our home where the weather is the land of extremes - extreme cold and windchills countered with high heat and humidity indexes.  I am enjoying these days where I can walk out the door with only a sweatshirt and shoes rather than parka and boots.  My heat is not running daily and we do not require an air conditioner.  Much easier on the budget in the heating and cooling category.  We also cope with our national state bird, the mosquito in spring and summer.  I am enjoying the cooler temps keep this pesky insect in hibernation.  No complaints here.

So yes, I am enjoying our cooler than normal spring.  I like to walk and jog, these are perfect temperatures for outdoor exercise.  I like snuggling with a blanket on cooler evenings.  I have an abundance of sweatshirts being drawn to them as a moth to a flame.  This is ideal temperatures to wear them and give each an opportunity to see the light of day.

I have considered complaining of the lack of sunshine.  It would be terrible if not for the abundance of daylight.   It has been hard to keep my chin up, have motivation, and stay off the sofa.  And yet, the news is filled with tragedy.  Oklahoma has been devastated with tornadoes as well as many other states.  My home state is prone to these destructive beasts and this is tornado season.  We have been spared intense storms with our cooler weather.  Unfortunately, the storms have been record breaking huge for those to the south of us, leveled towns, and taken lives.  I do not think I will complain about a lack of sunshine.

Others have dealt with record rains.  Their river banks over flowing, basements flooded.   I do not think I will complain about a lack of sunshine.

And yet others are coping with wildfires that consuming acres of land and turning homes into ashes.   I do not think I will complain about a lack of sunshine.

And others are grieving loss of loved ones from shootings and bombings.   I do not think I will complain about a lack of sunshine.

Take heart Minnesota friends.  I am confident that eventually we will get our sunshine and warm days.  It may be a while.  But in the meantime be thankful for all we have and that we are not suffering devastating loss.  Enjoy going out to the car and driving away immediately without the requirement of first warming it up and scraping windshields.  Enjoy the lower cooling and heating bill.  Enjoy the long days of daylight.  Rather than the beach, enjoy long walks and times around the bon fire without the pesky mosquito.  Being thankful the drought is ending with the rain.  Love the green grass and leaves we have been granted.  Look for the beauty in the midst of gloominess.

Easter Ponderings

For me, Easter should 'feel' like spring.  Bright sunshine, warm breezes, clear blue sky, green grass, birds singing, butterflies, pastel dresses, pretty open toed shoes, hats, and egg hunts.  Not this year, or many years where I live, as the day dawned with a lack of sunshine, gray skies, snow covering potential green grass, cold breeze, snow showers, winter coats, definite lack of butterflies.  It just did not 'feel' like Easter as a snow shower rained down on us.

My thoughts turned to the very first Easter.  No matter the weather of the day, bright sunshine or overcast skies; warm temperatures or cold breezes, likely Jesus' mother, would have only noticed the cold, dark emotional upheaval and grief.  She and others that loved him  have just been through the most emotional filled turmoil few days of their lives.  The week began on a high of Palm Sunday with Jesus being celebrated as he entered Jerusalem.  Songs, palm leaves, celebrity status.  The week ended in the worst possible way as the people turned on Jesus, ultimately crucifying him on in a gruesome manner on the cross.

Mary, Jesus' mother, has always intrigued me.  I am awed by her faith, complete obedience to God, and acceptance to her situation.  Very contrary to my personal tendency to question everything and do things my way.  But Mary, she had special intimacy with the most Holy, most High God as she carried His only son in her womb.  When the Angel told her she would conceive this baby miraculously, she accepted it with these words of Luke 1:38 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” 

Beyond her complete acceptance and obedience, Mary was the mother of this baby, rearing him into adulthood.  I am of a mother of two,I have my experiences of babies and children of my own and a few others. Somehow, I don't think any of these children are anything like baby Jesus. I wonder what it was like to raise the Lord Jesus.  He was fully human and fully God, perplexing for a simple minded soul like myself.  Surely as a baby, he cried when hungry, wet diaper, cold, uncomfortable, or just wanting to be held. Most certainly he 'fell down and went boom', bruised, cut, hurt.  Scripture speaks of siblings.  What of sibling rivalries?  Or of teenage attitudes?  Did Jesus need to be reminded to watch his tone?  Be kind to his siblings?  Eat his vegetables?  Do his chores?  Did little Jesus ever require a spanking or discipline of any type?  I believe raising Jesus was a completely different experience than raising her other children as Jesus never sinned... never.

Can you imagine looking into your child's eyes to realize he looks directly into your soul, knowing you better than yourself?  How does one respond to a child that knew scripture better than the most learned teachers of the time?  How could he be comforted,  the one who can heal completely any physical or spiritual wound?  Yet, Mary had this honor, privilege, and even challenge.

Mary was there, the first Palm Sunday through Easter.  How her mother's heart must have been beyond comfort.  She may have cried until only dry tears flowed.  Her heart ached and broke as she watched all the horrible proceedings.  The scourging as Jesus was beat beyond recognition, the crown of thorns, the jeering, the tortuous walk carrying his cross, the nails, the crucifixion, his death. She may have been unable to look yet unable to not look.  Unable to stay away, desiring to comfort her boy, seeking out His eyes to likely to find them strangely calm and deeply sad, trying to understand those things she 'pondered in her heart' as she raised him. Attempting to make sense of it all.

The time between His death and resurrection would have been bleak and grief riddled.  Even if the sun was shining would she have noticed, as her personal world was dark with little hope?  This miraculous baby she conceived and raised to a man now dead, how does He now save the world?  How does God die?  She perhaps went through her own personal faith crisis.  I would, I know I would have a faith crisis.  In desperation, I would visit his grave, perhaps only to leave by coercion.  That first Easter morning would have felt cold, dark, bleak much like my Easter morning this year.

This Easter of 2013, the clouds cleared away, the sun shone bright, the birds began to sing.  Perhaps much like how the word spread that Jesus is alive, death did not hold him, the tomb is empty.  The day brightened, the dark clouds of despair cleared, the day brightened as hope renewed.  Jesus is alive!

A few desires

A few things I hope as I age:

• I get to grow old
  Too many in my life have not had the privilege to see old age.
  
• I age but not act old
  I do not have the option in aging, becoming older.  I can choose to behave and think young.  I can choose to continually try new things, attempt to listen to the current music, keep up with current media rather than insisting in what I consider the best way - the 'old' way.
  
• I always know how to laugh
  May I never forget to see the humor in life and laugh heartily.
  
• I will always have a hand to hold
  I hope it is my husband's hand, holding his hand is a treasure.  I feel secure, loved, special holding his hand.  Yet I also hope to have the hand of a loved one to hold, a small child, one of my daughters, a dear one.
  
• I practice contentment
  This may be the greatest challenge in my hopes and desires.  To be content in all things:  where I live, how I feel, with the situation that life has for me at any time.
  
• I embrace each new generation & their style
  I want to connect with the the younger generation, realize they will not want to do it my preferred way.  Be able to share and communicate with them to hopefully have friends to keep me young and maybe, just maybe share a little of my life's lessons.
  
• Good health for my body & mind
  Yes please!  I am a wimp with illness and pain.  The thought of my mind betraying me is frightening.  I want to be able to live with a quality of life to continue to contribute.  I want to be able to always continue to learn and love.
  
• Friendships old and new
  I enjoy my many friends today.  Some are older, some are younger, others are my peers.  I realize that one day, I may not have any older friends, this makes me very sad.  Yet I hope to always have friends of all ages.
  
• Never, ever stop learning.
  There is so much to learn.  Academics and life lessons.  But mostly there is so much to learn of God - -I pray I never lose the desire to know more of Him, who He is, how vast and awesome He is.
  
• AND I really hope to keep up with technology
  Technology can be a blessing and a curse.  Yet I want to be able to keep up with computers, TVs, media, ipods, ipads, cars, etc.  I hope that I am never so flustered by it that I give up trying.

Who is God to You Today?

A few weeks ago I attended a conference.  Fern Nichols of Mom's In Prayer International was the featured speaker.  My recollection and impression of a particular message may not be exactly verbatim but I will try to summarize what I took away and applied to my life.  

When you pray and declare to God a character trait such as God, the Healer, be ready for the test.  Once you tell God that He is something in your life, He may and most likely will test you.  

Indeed!  Immediately during the weekend this was proven to be true.  During one of the sessions we corporately praised God and exclaimed how He is Jehovah-Rapha (The Lord you're Healer, Exod 15:26).  The following morning, I awoke to check the time, rolling over to the pain of a headache that was the type to turn into a incapacitating migraine.  I prayed immediately, again extolling God as my Jehovah-Rapha.  I left my healing to Him.  I prayed that I knew He was capable and even willing to heal me immediately, but I would be content to stay in bed at this great retreat if that is what would bring Glory to Him.  I dozed again for a few minutes and awoke to a pain free head!  God had tested me, heard my prayer, and healed me instantly.  

I thought, "Wow, I passed the test.  A+, pat on the back, yeah God."  My faith grew abundantly in that moment.  I celebrated my small victory and went about my life.  Now, four weeks later, I am going about my business as usual which includes being a wife, mom, homemaker, friend, and ladies bible study student.  I diligently worked on my homework a day before the next meeting.  I pondered the following from Genesis 16:13:

El Roi - the God who sees: He sees me when no else cares to looks. He sees through the smile we wear when we're dying inside. He sees our hurt when we're mistreated. He sees us when we cry into our pillow because we feel unloved. He see beyond our sin into the depth of our need. He sees when we're hiding. Running. He sees when we continue to sow the seed of His Word even in the floodplain of our grief. - - Beth Moore

Did I declare and praise God as El Roi?  Not in the manner of praying on my knees, hand raised type of declaration.  But the phrase impacted me so deeply, I posted it as a Facebook status.  My mind returned to El Roi, the God who sees me.  I thought about Hagar, the hand maiden of Sarai who gave Abram a son and then banished with her infant.  She met God and declared Him El Roi.  So yes, I did declare God El Roi in my life.  I should have known to be ready for the test.  I forgot that bit of detail in my ever learning walk with God.




The test has not been easy.  It impacted more than myself.   My entire family has gone through pain this past week.  We have been hurt, confused, frustrated, and even angry.  We have felt mistreated, smiled while hurting, felt unloved, and tears have flowed down our faces.  

Is God El Roi?  The God who sees me in the floodplain of my grief?  I have pondered this over and over as I worked through my emotions.  And you know what?  God met me.  My pain is still real, my hurt is deep.  Unfortunately, my anger has not completely abated.  But God has met me.  He is the one who gently reminded me that He is El Roi - the God who sees.  I have not been alone.  He has soothed my wound as the pain ached my heart, He has reminded me the mercy He has extended me when my anger has overflowed, He has provided me human shoulders to cry upon.  He has been the God who sees, the God who has seen my pain, the God that has not turned away from my human mess of emotions.

This has not been easy. My faith journey has impacted my family and given opportunity for all of us to learn.  Learn that God is El Roi - the God who sees; to learn forgiveness, to learn mercy, to learn that God is God.

Who is God to you today?  

Family is Family

For several days I have wallowed in a myriad of thoughts and emotions.    Many times I set out to write something.  I have come up empty.  I could not write a Facebook status or a prayer request to our church's prayer chain.  My heart aches.  It has a heaviness that profound sadness produces.  This ache is borne of empathy, deep empathy for my cousin.

I have been side blinded by the depth of feeling.  It has left me speechless.  If you know me the least bit, you would realize that this is a rare occurrence. 

I discovered in this process, that family, however remote or unknown, is family.    I have  cousins on the west coast.  I have met all of them during my childhood, but have not met all the spouses nor children.    I have not seen any of them for many years, more than 20 years have passed.  We have all grown up, married, are raising families.    The miles continue to separate us.

This week, one of these families, has suffered a devastating loss.  The death of their oldest son, just 25 years old.  I did not have the opportunity to meet this young man.  I have not had the opportunity to meet his siblings or his father.  I don't even recall the last time I met his mother, my cousin.  Of this family of cousins, she is the least known to me.   Regardless, my heart is broken for this family who is grieving. 

I grieve with them many, many miles away.  I grieve the loss of life.  I am a parent which has given me perspective and empathy for a grieving parent.  It is not  right for a parent to bury their child.  The tears flow freely, the prayers are earnest, the virtual hug is extended, love is sent.  I have grieved and had empathy for several who are not family.  But the depth of emotion was not as deep.  It must be because family is family.   It connects us, bonds us, knits us together.  RIP dear 2nd cousin who has left this world much to early in life.  I hope to meet you in Heaven one day.

The King, The Gift, Her Heart

She was given a gift, a precious gift from her King.  Strong yet not unbreakable, beautiful and perfect yet easily marred, valuable yet meant to be shared, personal and unique.  The King told her it was precious, created just for her.  She is to keep is safe.  No one can take it from her unless she gives it to them, either the entire gift or pieces of it.  The King instructed her to be wise in sharing her gift yet not hoard it selfishly.  He told her he would be willing to help her but she would need to serve him forever.  She declined, wanting to be free.  He loved her so much, he let her go.

She took her precious gift, named it her heart.  She kept it with her at all times, safe in her bosom.  Initially, she shared it with everyone, so proud of her perfect, precious gift.  Others shared their hearts with her, she noticed that they were not perfect like hers, they were marred, chipped, cracked, glued, and patched.  Her heart was a thing of beauty in its perfection.

As time went by, someone scratched her heart with harsh words, another deeper gash developed by disappointment of not making the team of her beloved sport.  When her grandmother died, her heart developed a hole.  A dear friend moved away leaving another smaller hole.  Another friend told lies about her causing a crack.  She began to guard her heart, being more wary of showing it to everyone she met.  She started to become more discerning to whom she showed her heart.

Over time more cracks, chips, and holes developed.  These were filled with other precious gems such as a lady she adopted as a grandmother who gave her a beautiful ruby to fill the hole her own grandmother's death had left in her heart.  The cracks were smoothed over, the chips filled in with other bits and pieces.  Her heart was no longer perfect but still beautiful in its own unique way.  She began to realize her heart was much like the other less than perfect hearts she has been showed throughout her journey. 

As time went on she noticed her heart changed colors as she loved and care for others.  The deeper the love the more it glowed, but also the more fragile it became when loving so deeply.  She shared her glowing heart with those she loved, showing them how it shimmered when near them.  Each special person made it glow and shimmer in a unique way.  Sometimes its weight would change as well. 

One day, when it was glowing and shimmering with love and admiration, another came along and carelessly shoved her heart.  It went soaring through the air.  She ran trying to catch it, losing sight of it in the blinding light of searing pain, but onward she ran trying to catch it, buffer it's fall somehow.  But in the blinding light it was lost and it her heart fell on the hard pavement, shattering into a million tiny pieces.  She fell to her knees, how disappointed the King would be in her if he knew how she allowed someone to destroy her gift.

She made dark curtains and built solid walls around the shattered pieces to ensure she could gather them all before others could scatter them.  In tears and in the near dark she gathered the tiny pieces.  The edges sharp, cutting her fingers, the beauty gone.  She declared no one would see her heart again, if she ever could get it back together. 

Piece by piece, bit by bit, she fit the pieces together.  She sought out glue of comfort, peace, but some pieces would not stay together when combined with bitterness.  She had to find forgiveness, she had to extend grace.  She learned these helped smooth out the edges, create a better fit, form a good bind.  Her heart remained so fragile in the dark, it would not glow, it would not shine.  Eventually, she learned she had to let the light in, be brave to share her gift again to restore her heart, her forever damaged heart.

Slowly, with trepidation, shaking, she took out a piece of wall.  Just lowering it a bit.  She exchanged the dark curtains for lighter curtains.  She saw her heart begin to flicker.  Trembling, she dared to remove one wall and exchange a heavy curtain for shear drapes.  Oh her heart began to glow.  It took time, lots of time for the walls to be removed, exchanged for a hedge with a gate.  Eventually all the heavy curtains were exchanged for shear drapes.  A panel or two of drapes were completely removed.  Her heart pulsed with colors, glowing brightly through the cracks, the holes, the chips, the patches.  She discovered her heart was more beautiful than ever.

Cautiously, with shame for her imperfect gift, she returned to the King.  Afraid he would be displeased with her care of the heart, trembling and tearful, she showed it to him.  The king, dried her tears, hugged her close, and soothed her with kind words.  He took her heart, told her that if she would allow him to keep it, he would be able to fix the unfixable parts, and help her protect it.  What a revelation!  Gladly she lifted the burden of her heart and placed them in the King's hands.  He gently took it, he examined it closely, he located the parts that she had been unable to fix.    In his workshop, he carefully restored the brokenness, removed the heavy pieces yet left the imperfections.  Then he returned her lighter heart to her.  Instructed her to look to him for protection.  Promising to be with her if she would trust him and serve him.  As she declared her allegiance to do so, her heart lost all remaining heaviness and shimmered more beautifully than ever dreamed.  She mourned the years she did not trust the King but determined to remain in his presence for eternity.  For there is nothing better than the safety of the King.

County Fair Judging - try not to melt

Since, I am on a roll, three blog posts in three days.  How about number four?  I am not certain I can maintain this pace but willing to roll with it while it lasts.

It is hot, yet the temperature is not extreme.  High 80s, low 90s is not extreme temperatures in my book.  But the humidity is high, making it miserable.  The summer season in Minnesota is short so I try, really I do try, to make the best of it.  I prefer short, t-shirts, sandals, no jacket to long underwear, three additional layers, parka, boots, hat, mittens, scarf, and pocket warmers.  It is much easier to dash out with out 20 pounds of clothing.  But the humidity ... I could do with a bit less, please.

Summer, County Fair time in this place where I live.  I have found a new role as a 4-H project judge.  This means I *get* to sit in steel, airless buildings for 7-8 hours oohing and aahing over a child's project, asking questions, encouraging him/her, and rewarding him/her with ribbons.

This year I am judging Cloverbud projects.  These are the Kindergarten through 3rd graders.  Each child gets a participation ribbon at this age.  Most are so excited to be there and enter their item in the fair.  You can see the thrill in their faces as they tell me how they colored, painted, glued their masterpiece.  The pride displayed as they tell me about their favorite animal including all the interesting facts.  Some are shy requiring gentle persuasion to talk to me, others are simply so cute I would give them a ribbon for just talking to me, no project required.  Picture pig tailed, sweet smiling little girls and energetic, freshly bathed little boys. Is this not the best job in the world?  Mind you I am melting in the humidity, sure that my hair is frizzy as parents take our picture to commemorate the experience.

It is all about the experience for the child.  I get an experience too and learn a few new things in the process.  Such as, spiders have 8 eyes as well as 8 legs, pumpkin bread made from scratch is tastier than from a box, grandmas are really good at threading sewing machines, big brothers are extremely helpful in building rockets, Lego creations are fun to build, elementary art teachers are awesome, and tree kangaroos live in the rain forest and look really cuddly.

So today I make way to my third fair this summer.  I can hardly wait to try the delicious treats made, see the beautiful pictures colored, learn about another exotic animal, and learn how to care for a pet fish.  I am hoping to melt off a few pounds in the humidity - - I may be lucky as it is raining today. Who knows, maybe I'll require a second layer. Then again, probably not, this is the county fair, it would break tradition.

I blame it on the climate

July in Minnesota.  Minnesota, not MinneSNOWta.  Contrary to popular belief it does not snow and remain cold 365 days a year.  No, indeed, rather we freeze in the winter months which are long and sometimes endless.  But in the summer, the pendulum swings and we enter extreme humidity and heat.  Whereby we are steamed until well-done.

Indeed, winter can see 30 below and colder but summer can see 100 (above) and hotter.  Add in some humidity and it is miserable.  When the dew point is above 60 degrees it is sticky, above 70 degrees the air is oppressive.  In the winter, the dew point is not a factor at all.  There are times we can walk out and all the hairs in the nose are instantly frozen, your lungs freeze, the shock of the dry, cold air literally takes your breath away.

In winter, daylight is scarce.  Seeing the sun for just meager hours.  Lights in the house are an absolute necessity between the hours of 4pm to 9am.  Sometimes all day due to clouds and gray skies.  Yet when the sun shines brilliantly off the snow it can be a dazzling array of light to blind you.  In the summer, the sun is blinding bright, rising at 5am and setting at 10pm.  We keep curtains closed to either keep heat in or keep heat out, depending on the season.

So this is where I live.  An individual that is not overly in love with change.  Yet I live in a land of extreme climates.  This is explains the wild swings in my personality.  Yep, that has to be it.  I blame it all on the climate in which I live.

Soap Box - - Political Angst

I have a soap box that I try to not step upon and begin to pontificate.  However, I believe this is where I am about to lose that self control to stay planted on the ground and keep quiet.  My soap box is my angst and disgust of the current political process.  As we move toward the next presidential election my angst, thus my soap box, grows exponentially.  DISCLAIMER:  I do not claim that this makes sense, I do not have a solution other than for people to be honest, truthful, authentic (this usually solves most issues), this is my point of view through angst colored glasses.  I am not attempting to start a debate, figure out who or what is right or wrong, I am mainly venting my angst, wishing for something different, realizing it won't be, point of view. 

Perhaps it begins in a small child's dream. Here in America we are encouraged to dream, dream to become anything, do anything, anything is possible.  This is the land of dreams.  The rags to riches land of dreams.  Poorest of poor to richest of rich.  From a nobody to a somebody.  This belief is the foundations of the country. 

Perhaps this small child dreams of being in a place of influence, a place of power.  Oh power, that is a dangerous tiger to tame.   "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely"  John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton, first Baron Acton (1834–1902)    The dream is likely innocent, true, and good.  A dream to make a difference in the world, make a difference for good.  The child as he grows realizes he (or she, but for ease of writing I will use the generic gender of he) could add value.  It is a beautiful, lovely dream.  But now for the ugly reality.  The political process is distasteful.  It continues on for months and months, years really.  There is party alignment, name calling, investigations to destroy, lies, and secrets.

I find it extremely ugly to set out to win an election by destroying the opponent with sensationalism, intentionally finding their faults, mistakes, sins; exposing them without any grace for who the person is today.  Compounded by the tendency to then disclaim your own faults and brush off, claiming to now be a virtuous person.  I often wonder why I care if the person tried drugs in youth, or participated in stupid act as a young person.  I was once young and stupid too.  I have grown up, I have matured, I have realized I was once young and stupid.  Quite possibly, these youthful indiscretions that have been overcome, have shaped and molded the individual into being the best candidate.  Do we really want a protected, naive, never experienced hardship, trials, empty vessel?  I do not care necessarily about the seemingly horrible act or experience in as much in how the individual overcame them, responded to crisis, learned from the experience(s).  This tells me so much more.  So expose those skeletons willingly and show me how you cope, what you learned, how it has made you into a great person today.  

I fail to understand how during some elections, most noticeably in primaries, candidates will tear apart each other of the same party in an effort to win the affections of the people.  I am amazed then how they will 'unite' and support each other once the top candidate is named.  I am more appalled in the then expectation of  me to now trust said candidate.  I just gagged in my mouth.  Really?  Sorry, your true character glowed through the heated, ugly words and actions toward your "team members" otherwise known as party. 

Now that party has been brought up, my soap box gets a little bigger.  My angst of 'party lines', partisan, non-partisan, bi-partisan.  It is all a bunch of hooey if you ask me.  Republican, Democrat, Tea Party, Independent, Grass Roots, whatever. You know what I want to see?  I want someone, ideally a group of someones (poor grammar - sorry grammar police), with true character and honesty.  Someone who will align himself with others to make good policy not because of party affiliations.  Frankly, parties need to disappear in my humble opinion.  I want someone who will research out the issue, seek out wise counsel, not be swayed by briberies.  Listen to lobbyists, on both sides of issues, take the time to figure out the best course of action.  I want someone who will stand on their decision not because he is of "this party or that party", but because it is the "right and good thing".  There have been a few that have tried to take this route.  But money becomes an issue.  Parties have money, supporters who demand favors have money.  Money corrupts as well as power.

Most of my angst has been vented.  My soap box must now diminish, it isn't serving much purpose.  Frankly it has quite of few holes for others to pull it apart.  Remember my disclaimer.  I will not argue with you.  It is a frustrated view point, without solutions.  Thanks for listening.

Wave of Melancholy

The day is typical.  A summer day, the children on break from school, husband at work, beautiful sunshine, unstructured time, laundry, dusting, dishes... a typical day.  I am hit by a wave of melancholy.  I am helpless to its effects as it washes over me.  But I continue through my day, my thoughts heavy, my heart aching.

I remember those who have died, some long ago and others too soon in life.  I ache for a conversation with my grandmother.  The dear lady that was crippled the entirety of the time I knew her.  I recall how her eyes sparkled with interest as she would visit with me.  Today, again, I wish she could have met my husband, my children, shared her memories with me, tell me again how God is going to heal her body and we would go play ball, drive the truck, and make fun.    Instead I ask God to give her a hug and tell her I am thinking of her and I am hoping she is playing ball in heaven.

My thoughts then turn to my husband's grandmother.  I was privileged to know her for a few years in our early marriage.  A woman full of wisdom and mirth.  I miss her grounded words that provided the proper outlook I usually needed at the moment.  I miss her love of mischief.  She always had a story to tell.  I marveled at her dedication to praying for each member of her large family by name every day, her memory at each one's name, birth, marriage, important event.

As the wave of melancholy flowed, my memories of a few who passed away too early in life float to the forefront of my thoughts.  My brother-in-law, who taught me to drive a stick-shift vehicle in his cherished Honda Prelude.  I laugh as I recall that I never drove it after I peeled away from a stop sign during one lesson.  He said to give it more gas and let the clutch out slowly.  I grieve his absence in his own children's lives.

I lament the passing of time, as I realize all to clearly, that my time as a parent with children in my home is swiftly nearing its end.  I miss my little girls, their antics, their zest of learning, imaginative play, and constant energy.  Their curious child sayings as long past, as they now are beautiful young ladies.  I miss our days of home education and fun field trips.

I wish for the time that my friends lived near and the adventures we had as girlfriends and young mothers.  The time we spent dreaming of the future, our lives, and aspirations.  Today, I feel very middle-aged. No, today I feel old.    Time has slipped away and I have a sense of being unaccomplished.  I wonder what difference I have made, what value have I added with my life, in the time I have been given? 

I wish for the clock to turn back, to try to hold onto relationships that have long ago disintegrated due to normal drifting and due to disagreements.  I wonder how those individuals are today, wondering how to reach out to them.

I have an opportunity to write a biography for a digital all-alumni book of my local high school.  I am completely baffled as what to share, it seems so boring.  Married, unemployed outside the home, did not further my education beyond high school diploma, wife, mom, volunteer.  Huh, hardly seems worth submitting.  It would be much more intriguing and value of reading if it read how I received my masters degree in something or another, received promotions and awards, all while being happily married, with beautiful accomplished children, and traveling the world.  I wonder if there is still time to achieve this crazy, outlandish pipe dream.  Sigh.... and the melancholy wave crests. 

Maybe tomorrow will be a cheerier day.  Husband is working from home, beginning his short summer vacation.  Maybe tomorrow, I will have a new vision for my future.  I am confident in the Bible's promise that God has a plan for me...  I will seek it out still.

Mothers of Preschoolers

Each one arrives, many carrying a child laden car seat as well as one child or more trailing behind.  Burdened down with diaper bags and baby paraphernalia, they more or less stumble into the foyer. For a few, this bi-monthly meeting is the only 'break' from their preschoolers they will receive.  Babies are dropped off in the nursery, older children escorted to the preschooler room, mothers and infants arrive in the "Mom's room" for a time of refreshment.

I engage the newest mom, asking about her dear ones she has attached at the hip, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.  Our focus group is Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) so we are an accommodating group, not minding a baby in a mother's arms or the preschooler who needs to be near Mom until comfortable with surroundings.

Each lady is craving conversation on an adult level.  Mothering little people is an exhausting, 24 hour/7 days a week task.  Talking with the under 3.5 foot set is not always stimulating or fulfilling. Changing dirty diapers does not earn a word of appreciation.  The constant task of picking up toys, making meals, cleaning up the house, doing laundry, breaking up arguments, and rescuing toddlers from near-death experiences is usually under-appreciated.  The rewards are dandelion bouquets, sticky finger hugs and kisses, and adorable children.  These same children we mothers love so deeply can frustrate us to unbelievable measures.  It stuns us to our core leaving us feeling guilty for our anger, hurt, frustration. and disillusionment.  This is not what motherhood is suppose to be like.  It is suppose to be sweet smiling children, smelling like Johnson's baby lotion.  Obedient ones that does not put rocks up noses or throw temper tantrums.  Never prone to biting, hitting, or  smearing of fecal matter all over the floor and wall.  Always coloring on paper and never on the walls.  Children with clean faces and combed hair.  Siblings that love one another never screaming at ear piercing decibels.

A mother learns much about herself on the journey of motherhood.  She can be shocked by her lack of patience.  Disillusioned by the tasked itself.  Disappointed in her husband's lack of fathering skills.  Frustrated by lack of money, undependable vehicles, running noses, barking coughs, toys everywhere, dirty clothes and dishes, and lack of independence and flexibility.  Sometimes all that is required is a word of appreciation, a hug, a word of praise, chocolate, a listening ear. and hearing the phrase "this too shall pass."  Knowing she is not alone, that her situation is not unique can be a saving life line.

Gaining support of other women in the same phase is an all important, non-to-be-missed time.  We discuss everything from infant behavior to normal and abnormal preschool behavior; the strong willed child to the very timid child; marriage to in-law relationships;  As a mentor mom, I have 'been there, done that' in many of the situations to some degree or another.  Often I feel less than wise, these are phases that usually have to be traveled, sometimes I did not travel them well.  My goal is share the lessons I learned and continue to learn and offer encouragement.  

I am honored to gather with these ladies.  I miss the preschool years of my children and try to encourage these women to savor the moment, it passes by all too quickly.  I try to give an attitude and words of grace.  Empower them to trust their gut instincts in mothering.  Brainstorm solutions to difficult situations.  Each mother is beautiful, unique, and delightful.  They allow me to cuddle their newborns, listen to my bit of experience, and call me friend. 

Joseph - Actions Louder Than Words

As we approach the ending of 2011, I pause to send you Christmas greetings.  A time to reflect on the birth of Jesus.  The celebrate on the beginning of His human life as fully man and fully God.  Born to a young virgin and a hard working carpenter.  This year I have pondered Joseph.  Not much is recorded regarding Joseph.  His words are not quoted only his actions.  Actions speak louder than words. 

Joseph was a man of integrity.  What did he feel or think when he learned of Mary's condition?   I imagine feelings of betrayal.  How could she do this to him?  How did he misjudge her?  Maybe he wondered if Mary's father had deceived him, did they think he was so gullible?  And yet despite his reeling feelings he thought to quietly divorce her to protect her, rather than have her publically disgraced and stoned as was his right.  He must have loved Mary very much and/or respected her family highly.

Joseph was a devout Jewish man and responsive to God.  An angel visits him in a dream.   Would you believe a dream in which an angel visits you?  Would you distrust your dreamy, hazy memories?  It must have been a powerful, memorable dream with high impact.  Certainly if the Angel of the Lord visited my dream, I would remember it vividly.  In this dream, he is told to take Mary as his wife and name the baby Jesus, for the babe conceived within her was from the Holy Spirit.  Again, Joseph's words are not recorded but his actions are that of obedience.  It must have been frightful to take this bold action.  What would the community think of him, would his business suffer, would he be ostracized, would his family disown him?  And yet he obeyed.  He surely must have been convinced his "dream" was an actual visit from God.

Joseph was a leader, the head of his household.  When the census decree was declared, he embarked on a journey with his very pregnant, young wife.    A long distance to obey the law, it must have been tempting bend the truth, leave Mary behind as they were only betrothed, their marriage not yet consummated.  I envision him carefully assisting Mary on this journey, watching over her, anxiously trying to provide for her needs on this arduous journey.   This young lady was carrying God, the angel had told him such.

He had a very big responsibility without this journey, being the chosen earthly father of God!!  Can you imagine his frustration when he arrived in Bethlehem to be unable to find lodging?   He must have nearly been frantic.  Mary would have been obviously pregnant near time of delivery.  He must have wondered what God thought of him being unable to provide adequate lodging for Mary.  Perhaps feelings of failure plagued him.  How could he let God down by allowing the mother of His son stay in a stable surrounded by animals?  

Wouldn't you know, that is exactly where and when the baby was to be born.  In a smelly stable, not a proper home.  Was he able to find someone to assist Mary through the delivery?  Were they alone?  He may have wondered what God thought of him now.  Certainly this was not the place for God to enter human life.  But what choice did Joseph have at the time?   His resources were limited being a simple man of simple means and the small village was full due to the census.

The timing of the story is a bit uncertain.  I haven't been able to discern, in my casual research, how long they would have been in Bethlehem for the census.  But we do know that shepherds caring for their flocks in a nearby field were visited by angels proclaiming Christ's birth.  These shepherds found and visited this new family and told them of their story of the angels' proclamations.  Likely the shepherds' presence and story stirred up the surrounding community.  A birth usually draws people but this would be incredulous, people would naturally be curious.  Can you imagine the questions he would have had to answer over and over?  Joseph would have been likely fielding many visitors all while trying to understand what was going on around him.   The son of God born in a stable, angel visits, shepherds, and then wonder of wonders... Kings from afar who followed a star that stops above their own dwelling.   Kings...really?  A star??  Surely he and Mary saw this star.   How could the kings have known this star would lead them to Jesus?  They arrive with gifts - magnificent gifts, much beyond what a carpenter likely ever possessed.    It would have been very overwhelming.

Now we come to the part in this saga of crazy King Herod.  He is determined to kill this baby that threatens his throne.  Again, Joseph is visited by an angel in a dream.  The dream must have struck fear in his heart  as he is told his family is danger from King Herod and to leave immediately.  Again, we have little documented history.  It is recorded he bravely packed up his little family and made for Egypt.  Did he dare tell anyone, even new found friends who are potentially in danger?  Such a lonely position. 

Had Joseph ever traveled so far previously?  We do not know.  I will assume he had never been to Egypt.  How unsettling this must have been for a newlywed husband with a young baby that is not his but God's.  A young wife far away from her mother and family learning how to care for an infant.  Her body recovering from labor and delivery.  All the challenges of being a newlywed and a new parent and now to be on the run for their lives.  Starting a new life in a new country.  Could life be more challenging?  And yet Joseph obeys.

This is all the information I have of Jesus' earthly, adopted father during the time of Jesus' birth.  I like to think  I would have desired to be his friend. Maybe I would have thought he and Mary a bit off kilter.  After all, they would have been telling stories of angels, miraculous pregnancy, shepherds, stars, kings, and other incredulous things.  Yet,  I get a sense his was a respected man of his community.  An intelligent, kind, tender-hearted, hard working, loving man.

Yes, actions speak louder than words.  Josephs actions speak volumes.    It makes me ponder what my actions say about me...  hmmmmm.

Birthdays and Aging

Today is my birthday.  I am another year older, hopefully a little wiser, and young at heart.  I am now at the stage of aging when many do not care to acknowledge the number.  Some dislike birthdays altogether.  I have a few thoughts of my own on this subject.

This past spring, I lost a friend to a cruel disease, Jacob Cruezfeldt at the young age of 42.  She is survived by her husband and two young sons.  Her age is one of those numbers that many wish they did not achieve, instead desiring to stay at some younger age.  In previous years I have lost a cousin at 48, another acquaintance around 45, and yet another at 52,  an my (ex) brother-in-law at 47.  I empathized with friends and acquaintances in life and Facebook of young children's passing due to accidents and disease.  This has altered my perspective on birthdays and aging.

I do not particularly enjoy the aging process.   The aches, the pains, the fatigue.  I am not really fond of gray hairs although I try to have fun calling them sparkles and cover them up with dye.  The wrinkles are not overly appealing.  Yet.... I am here, I am alive, I am mostly healthy!  I do not wish to lose sight of how fortunate I am.   The Psalmist said it best in Psalm 39:4

 ⁴ “Show me, LORD, my life’s end
   and the number of my days;
   let me know how fleeting my life is.

Psalm 139:13-16 tells me I am fearfully and wonderfully made and that before I was created all my days were ordained.

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.  Your eyes saw my unformed body, all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

 I read in Ecclesiastes 8:8a that I have no power when my life will end any more than I can contain the wind.

"As no one has power over the wind to contain it, so no one has power over the time of their death."

Today I am 41 years old.  Blessed to celebrate another year of life!  I am not guaranteed another year, month, or even day.   I am hopeful to celebrate many, many more.  As many as the Lord allows, I plan to celebrate the days and years I have been given.

                                

 

 

 

Dewindling Summer

Summer time!  It is already August.  Summer months are quickly coming to an end.  I had grand plans to blog regularly.  Ha!  Summer took over and blogging was a fleeting ideal.   Here in the upper midwest, one must take advantage of these minimal days of long day light hours and warm temperatures.  All too soon, colder temperatures and darkness will descend leaving but a shadow of a memory of summer.

Honestly, my favorite season is Autumn.  It is still warm during the day but the humidity is gone.  The ground is dry and crunchy.  Oh, and I admittedly I am one who likes to wear shorts with a sweatshirt.  Crazy but true.  The downside to Autumn is the constant lessening of daylight hours.  I crave daylight and the long dark days of late autumn and winter are disheartening. 

I am getting ahead of myself... you are probably wondering what I have been doing this summer.  A better question to ask is what is God doing in my life this summer?  Along with mowing the lawn every four to five days, trying to stay cool in the rather ridiculous humidity, I have been seeking God's direction in my life.

This fall is a transition for our family that directly impacts my lifestyle.  After eight years of homeschooling both of my children will be attending school outside our homes.  We are all excited for this transition.  I believe my children have the foundation academically and, more importantly, spiritually to attend school.  Yet this change means that for the first time in 16 years I will have considerable time to myself during the school hours.

As I have pondered the upcoming 'freedom', I have been wondering exactly what I should do with my time.  I am a bit on the lazy side coupled that I am not one  with a desire for an immaculate house (i.e. not a great housekeeper) could be a recipe for a self-centered disaster.  So I have been praying.

Prayer is powerful.  My lazy summer turned into a summer of opportunities to serve in our community.  I have seen first hand and been able to serve those living at poverty level.  Each time I come away humbled and reminded of how blessed and privileged I am in these challenging economic times.

I also had the opportunity to serve at a Christian camp that had an influx of registrations for Jr. High camp.  I answered a plea for help as they sought out additional counselors.  I had a fun and exhausting week.  My cabin was full of a group of beautiful young ladies who stole my heart.  I have the honor of praying for them as they have returned home to finish summer vacation and return to school.  I am reminded that life is not easy for anyone but for teenagers, life is even more challenging!

Now I am looking at the final weeks of summer and wondering just what fall will look like... I believe God has been preparing me for something.  I just am not sure exactly what it is yet.  I am considering taking some classes and researching out ideas in this direction.  I am not necessarily looking for a degree but additional Biblical training and discipleship training seems appropriate. 

I want to be the best I can be in God's Army.  I am a bit scared and at the same thrilled to say "Here am I, use me, send me!"  I am not perfect but neither was Moses, Noah, Joseph, Naomi and Ruth, Job, or David.  I am learning to trust God and let Him make my weaknesses His strengths.

In the meantime, I am sad that summer is ending.  The less structured pace, the sometimes lazy days are all too quickly coming to an end.  Now it is time to prepare for the first days of school and activities.  As well as time to prepare for all that God has in store for me in this next phase of life.