Desiring Permanence Here-- A Huge Mistake

"So we don't look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever." ... 2 Corinthians 4:18

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Probably most of us recall shopping at Sears as children, later as young marrieds, then as old marrieds (er hem...). We remember some of the items we bought there-- I especially recall purchasing washing machines, nightgowns and vacuum cleaners. Oh and earlier, shopping with my mom for school clothes and the day she let me buy a baby-blue sweat jacket which I longed for with all my heart.

Sears will be closing 100 - 125 stores this year.

And some of us perhaps shopped with our moms on Saturday afternoons at JC Penny and then with our own children after we grew up.

JC Penny is closing 300 - 350 stores.

And oh, the hours I've spent sitting in Barnes and Noble listening to classical music, sipping coffee and reading books in comfortable chairs.

Barnes and Noble will close 190 - 240 stores.

Radio Shack will close 450 - 550 of their shops. KMart will shut 175 - 225 more doors than they have already in past years. Office Depot: 125 - 150 stores will cease to be as well as 150 - 175  Office Max stores.

Christian book stores are on their way out, as well.

Reasons for these closures? They vary, but the ease of ordering items online, the increase of the huge brick-and-mortar stores, the way books are going electronic (or aren't being read as much) and stores not changing with the times--these are some causes for closures, for all those job losses.

Another reason? Nothing in our world lasts forever. No matter how much we may wish that to be otherwise, everything ends. Everything eventually morphs into something else.

Well, except for God, (real) love and the relevancy of the Bible.

But here's what I'm watching lately: many of my Christian friends are blown away by all the impermanence. By endings. Something ceases (as everything will) and they're devastated, angry, then bitter. Fearful, too. And because their 'hope was deferred,' their hearts are now sick with a type of sickness which lasts a very long time.

What I'm choosing instead? I'm choosing to just be grateful I had what I had, for however long it lasted. That I had it at all. To not wish back what is forever gone, but to thank God it was mine, even for a moment, and to be grateful for my memories...

... the nifty suburb house Tom, Naomi and I had, Naomi's 'little girl days' and then how she lived nearby after leaving home. Our farm and the 'gift year' Naomi lived with us there, the friends and cats we've loved and lost, the cool furniture, books and trinkets we gave away. All are gone, but never far from our hearts.

Now? Now I'm making new memories while doing different activities, finding other ways to live a godly life and opportunities to spread Jesus' joy all around. A challenge sometimes but, as Joyce Meyer says, God has anointed us for hard. 

Here in our earthly life, things come and go, nothing remains as we found it. Only in Heaven will we know true permanence--yet why do we foolishly search for it here? 

We're not Home yet! We're still walking, still on the journey, still making our way farther up the road. Dreaming of Home, but living good lives here--in the meantime-- as wise children who will make God proud when He looks upon us one day and exclaims, "You made it! Welcome to your permanent home."


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"Hope deferred makes the heart sick..." ... Proverbs 13:12

"To everything there is a season, a time, a purpose under Heaven... a time to be born, a time to die, a time to tear down and a time to build..."  ...  from Ecclesiastes 3

When God is truly enough, all else is, too. Contentment reigns.

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Oh, this morning I watched a family Christian movie, one actually done really well (!) ...smile... It's called October Baby and I found it in the instant portion of Netflix. If you watch, be sure not to miss the credits at the end--wow, what a testimony! Made me cry.

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My World And Welcome To It

"... nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you."   ... Luke 17:21

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To be read whimsically..... please.

When Tom and I were first married in a forgotten California town on a mountain peak, my guitar-playing, singer husband (with visions of grandeur) told our pastor he felt ready to take on a larger ministerial role in the church.

And for the next 103 Saturday nights, Tom found himself singing to a tiny captive audience at The Old Folks Home. 

Of course, Tom roped me into  asked me to go with him and probably the only Saturday night we missed was the weekend I gave birth to Naomi. But since our church preached mega-faithfulness, we were right back at it the following weekend--and forever after--I had to peel little old ladies off of Naomi before we could leave.

Sometimes, when things got desperate, a couple people would ask me to sing a duet with Tom, but seldom did things ever reach that level of desperation.

Anyway. One dear woman, Elsa, had been a model in the 1920's and out in the hall hung an amazing black and white photo of her standing upon a curved staircase in a long dress with her hair slung over one eye. I would stare at that photo until Tom pulled me away.

After Tom sang songs with his guitar, he'd pause and ask if anyone had something to share, you know, expecting testimonies of God's provision, etc. Well, 85-year-old Elsa usually raised her hand and on bad Saturdays would say (with tears in her voice), "We buried my mother today." The ladies around her would pat her hands and Tom was always hard-pressed to answer that one. 

But on good Saturdays, Elsa, with bright, excited eyes, would tell us, "Today my friends and I drove to San Francisco and rode the street cars and stood on the corners and waved to everybody." That one was easier to handle. We all just rejoiced with her.

Thirty years later, I'm thinking--when I grow up--I want to be just like Elsa on her good days, Elsa in her own fun little world. 

But then, you've probably already noticed that I'm a big believer each of us creates a large part of our own world, real or otherwise. You know, the way I found my supermarket which plays tunes from the 1940's - 1960's and how when I walk past our local middle school from the 1940's, I still see imaginary girls in poodle skirts and boys in crew cuts. Farther down the street there's that Nifty 50's nightclub place you can rent and around each corner there are houses from the 1880's and every decade beyond. I pass by those and 'see' women out on their porches wrapped in aprons, shaking their rugs over the side (walk past my house and you won't even have to use your imagination to see that).

Yep, I'm aiming to be like Elsa and who knows? Since 'the kingdom of God is within me,' perhaps I'm creating a wonderful place to retreat as times grow dire in our present sorry old world. And how wonderful to have a place to go to for renewal of hope and courage and joy... a place where I can meet the lover of my soul who sits upon His throne, but who always steps down from it whenever I call upon Him.


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Ezekiel 36:26..... "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you:
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart
of flesh."

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You Might Not Believe This (But It's True)

I forgot to tell you something pretty incredible about this new life of mine.


While I shop at my local supermarket, they play Big Band era music. And stuff from the 1950's, like Doris Day and Nat King Cole and Rosemary Clooney. Weekends and weekdays.


Oh. My. Goodness.


And it's not like this supermarket is some local Mom and Pop set-up, either. No, they're a major chain in New York and Pennsylvania and this is one of the large ones, an International.


I drive to the market early mornings, anywhere from 7:30 to 9:30 and there's Benny or Glenn or Doris or Rosemary playing or singing me down the aisles. Sometimes I even have to keep my feet from dancing. Sometimes people push their carts past me singing along with Bing or Patsy . Other times they whistle along. Or hum.


Sometimes couples, old or young, get a little playful in the aisles. One husband even embraced his wife, they slow danced a couple steps, then he twirled her by the hand.


Does it get any better than this?


I'm thinking probably not.  :)

Hmm.... In case you're wondering if this post is for real--yes, it is. Come visit me some early morning and I'll take you the six blocks to my supermarket and you can watch the magic for yourself.  It'll be fun.




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And once again, here's the amazing website Dolores shared with me filled with stations which play 1940's and 50's music.




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And speaking of  'once again' I must repeat that I'm absolutely loving my Dollar Tree book, A Matter of Choice, edited by Joan Chatfield-Taylor. Could hardly be more perfect and really, I need to get back down there to search for more treasures! (If you enjoyed Thoughts of Home and If These Walls Could Talk, guaranteed, you'll love this book, also.)




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Oh, you must do this. (Pretty please?) Go here and listen to this youtube song while picturing yourself grocery shopping. 

If you're a woman I'll bet you can't help but see yourself in a full-skirted dress and clip-on pearl earrings while pushing a cart around. This is one of the types of music my market plays and--when they do-- suddenly I'm transformed into June Cleaver.  




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Deuteronomy 8:10




"When you have eaten and are full, then you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you."




Trust me, I have and I am!  ツ




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Living For Forever in a Temporary World

(You may want to read my previous post, first.)

Twenty-two years ago we moved away from the mountains of California to the desert of Nevada. Our relatives and friends thought we were crazy, but didn't complain too much since we'd only be three hours away by car.

Yet seventeen years ago when we told our Nevada friends we were moving to New York? They stared at us all open-mouthed. They wrinkled their noses as though the whole, entire state was New York City. Those same nose-wrinklers had never seen the thousands of miles of green, gorgeous farmland here and the two calm, blue Great Lakes. And Niagara Falls. And--

Besides, New York was thousands of miles away so why go there? they'd ask. Why not just stay (and bake) in the Nevada Desert? Why venture out to the unknown? But in the midst of all the questions we moved away, giving-up lots of our furniture to our friends. Nice furniture, not just the kind you're too lazy to haul away to the dump. And even sometimes a friend still speaks of her surprise that we gave her family the good stuff.

Until we moved to New York I'd never lived in the same house for more than two and three-fourth years. I was 34 years old. 

I'd lived in our tiny California mountain town for 12 years and that was a record, but still, had never lived in the same house for even 3 years. Someone in Nevada once teased Tom about having Gypsy blood and I think they're right, for he often speaks of moving, reminding me of Pa Ingalls who always spoke of moving farther West. But somehow, we managed to live in the very same Buffalo suburb home for nearly 15 years! And when we moved, we gave away at least one-third of our possessions.

And now Tom's speaking of moving again, this time to Oregon (visions of Pa Ingalls once more). heh. But before we do, if we sell this house before Tom is ready to retire, well, most likely we'll rent a small place again as we did before we moved to this farm.

And everything will be all right. 

We have such fond memories of that one-bedroom apartment we shared in 2008 and hold no dread if we return to something like that. Still we will keep on living, dreaming, walking, riding, blogging, loving and being happy.

I once read in a (Christian) woman's blog that her adult children told her and her husband that they'd better never sell the family home--or else. The woman thought that was cute, but I found it disturbing. Which Bible verse says it's godly for children to boss around their perfectly healthy parents, to tell them to stay right where they are?

Where am I going in all this rambling? 

Here: I often ask God to remind me not to live like this temporary world will last forever. As they say, "it's all gonna burn." Someday I will be gone, but in the meantime, may I hold onto everything upon my opened palm. May I allow all to come and go, respecting ebbs, flows, changes, losses and different seasons.

Ah, those short seasons!



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A dear old friend of mine from high school asked this on his wall at Facebook:

What if doing the "hokey-pokey" is what it's all about?

Such a quirky thing which got me all dreamy-eyed enough to question, "What if it is, indeed?"

And what if, when we reach Heaven, we discover it was all about listening more than talking? And singing to our babies rather than singing on American Idol? And not having a famous name, but a respected, cherished one amongst our family and friends? What if being kind was more valuable than being smart?

What if it was all about taking walks rather than always driving? And laughing and dancing at church rather than always crying and whispering? And spending more hours reading than watching tv and meditating more than even reading? What if organic, tree-hugger types really were right after all?

What if it was all about flying kites and feeding wild birds and rescuing dogs and cats from shelters? And taking country drives on Sunday afternoons? And playing more, singing more and hanging our laundry more often on clotheslines?

Or what if it all was about walking with Jesus on city streets, leaning against the wool of his coat on icy days and introducing Him to others we pass on the sidewalk?

Just some thoughts on a cold, wintry February day while the earth around my house sleeps beneath the snow, always with one eye opened for the arrival of Spring.


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I would dearly love to hear more of your own 'what if's' in my comment box!

 

Here is our neighbor and her tiny daughter playing upon our frozen lake this morning. 

Erica brings her little girl outside on most days for fresh air and always I'm wooshed back 28 years to a young Naomi and myself outside in the snow. I smile and am grateful I knew days like those and they'll always live inside my heart.

It's just as Laura Ingalls Wilder said: "They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago."



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"But if you humble yourself, you will be honored..." ... Matthew 23:12

Of Contentment and Renting Grandchildren

"But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that." ... 1 Timothy 6:6-8

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Now there's a passage I need to read, like, every week. Oh my! I have food. I have clothing. So everything else around my house and all my friends, loved ones and the country-ish things which please my eyes, well, they must all be extra blessings.

Yes, there's much, much extra in my life. Probably too much when we're talking stuff, but hey.

My good friend, Laura, became a grandmother this week to her very first grandbaby. And you know? I am thrilled for her And even though, most likely, I'll never become a grandmother, myself, (remember when I wrote about finding my own grandchildren?)--still--I'm happy that such a wonderful thing has happened to Laura and to you grandparents who read this blog.

Contentment is learned (at least that's what Paul in the Bible said) and it's a gift, also. 

A gift for me, yes, because it enables me to spend my days in serenity, not craving and longing for more than God has seen fit to give me. But also it's a gift to others in my life. Tom, for instance, for contentment with our home and situation is a gift because he does not enjoy seeing me roam from room to room, complaining about the myriad things we need to buy, paint or repair.

And my contentment about not being a grandmother, myself, is a gift to Naomi, who certainly doesn't need me pressuring her to have children. It can also be a gift to Laura (and you other grandparents) because, when I'm truly content, there's no jealousy on my part concerning your grandbabies, wishing they were mine, which would stop me from sharing in your joy.

Of course, one must always add that contentment does not mean settling. It doesn't mean having no goals or desires to move ahead in the future. 

Instead? There's a godly type of contentment regarding where He has me--on the way to becoming more godly, more creative, more 'finished' tomorrow.

I'm speaking of a peaceful, trusting contentment which carries me, happily, down the road of Life. A delightful way of traveling on the way to where I'm going.



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Last night Tom and I traveled to the town we moved from, to a park where Naomi played drums in a new band. People everywhere, boats along the canal, small dogs and a summer evening so perfect weather-wise it could not be improved upon.

The music was eardrum-collapsing loud. It always is. And as we leaned back upon a steel railing, people all around us smoked, drank beer, laughed and some of them danced. There was a giddiness on the air, but mostly I just watched Naomi who can play the drums like you'd not believe and looks like she was created from the beginning of Time to do so. And I prayed for the vast variety of people scattered around the park, folks from all walks of Life.

Now, when Naomi was a sweet, tiny toddler did Tom and I pray for her to, at 29, play drums in the secular band circuit, get tattoos and have good friends who've never even stepped into a church? Uh, no. And are we all disappointed and worried and frantic? No again.

No, Faith and Trust don't get stomach aches from worry. They don't wait-up till dawn with self-imposed headaches and pace the floor and imagine the worst night after tortured night. And they don't doubt or keep asking questions which cannot be answered.

No, real Faith and Trust find the good in Now and believe the best is yet to come--and feel deep peace along the path. They go to concerts and pray for the whole crowd and sing along to the few songs they recognize and look up into a perfect sky on a perfect summer night and know for certain that God knows what He's doing. And that He's teaching us all in different ways... and calling us, wooing us closer to Him all the time as only He knows how.

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"He makes all things beautiful in His time."

"Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:7

"You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You because he trusts in You." Isaiah 26:3

Yesterday I realized I'm no longer in my twenties. Alas.

Tom and I watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 (we know, we know. But for whatever reasons, we thoroughly enjoyed both films). And as I watched those beautiful young women I was reminded of how it felt to be young. How I once believed I could do anything and had forever to do it. And how I felt pretty most of the time and the way I could lose three pounds over any weekend I chose to eat a bit less (ah, those were the days).

You know. The way I could walk for miles with movie musicals playing inside my head like my own personal theme songs (no headset needed). And the way, in one day, I could paint a whole room, tend to a young daughter, clean the house, do the laundry, cook the meals--and not be dead afterward.

Anyway, when I watch movies with young women in them, somehow (miraculously) I suddenly feel as though I'm one of their group. My younger years return to me--and for those ninety minutes--I'm in my twenties (or even 30's) again, looking good and thin and feeling like the whole world is mine to do with it anything I wish.

But yesterday--mostly--I just sat there and felt 50-years-old. With greying hair and a body which has become, well, tubby.

But hey. Someday those young ladies in Sisterhood will be 50, also, and you know? I hope they'll have led lives even half as wonderful as mine. I hope each will experience marriage with the kind of sweet guy I have, someone who greets our cats each morning by name and steps out the backdoor and speaks to the birds at our feeders, as well. And treats me with kindness and makes me laugh until the tears come. And I hope they'll have a child who changes their whole way of thinking and being.

May I never forget that there are things in this life better than being young, beautiful and dreamy-eyed. Wisdom, for one. Loving God with your whole heart and soul, for another. And may I remember that the decade of my 40's was the very best of them all. For it was.

And I'm expecting my 50's to be even better. Or, truthfully, I'm trying. Really, my 40's were downright awesome. To me, anyway.  シ



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It's official. As of today, January 28, 2009, I am sick of winter.

Phooey! We've not seen our lawn for months and this deep-freeze is weeks deep and snow has fallen all day long and I'm longiiiiiing for our first ever Spring on the farm and to be awakened by the sun (oh, how I'm missing that).... But yes, I am thankful that it's not the ice which other states have gotten. Ice is worse, I realize that. (Freezing rain unravels me.)

Sigh. Complaining, though, will only make this winter feel longer than it already does. I need to switch to Thankful Gear. One easy thanks? Our neighbor trudged over here twice today with his snow blower to clear our long driveway. Bless him. (I say little prayers for him whenever he's out there.)

So what remains is for me to pull up the ol' boot straps and think of more projects and ask for more grace to complete them. And while I'm there, to ask for more creativity and inspiration and gumption. After all, it's only January and where we live, Spring does not come early.

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"You have not because you ask not..."

Today's post is simple.... One of my all-time favorite passages, a final scene from the Thornton Wilder play, Our Town. These words come to my mind nearly every day of my life~~and I am grateful...


Emily: (softly, more in wonder than in grief)

But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's look at one another. (Pause, looking desperate because she has received no answer. She speaks in a loud voice, forcing herself to not look at her mother)

I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another (she breaks down sobbing, she looks around). I didn't realize. All that was going on in life and we never noticed. Take me back - up the hill - to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corners. Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking. And Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths. And sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you.

(She asks abruptly through her tears) Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? - every, every minute?

Happy new dreams and adventures in making them come true

Happy new diets and losing weight

Happy new lessons and all they teach you

Happy new changes and making things better.

Happy new colors upon your walls

Happy new books and reading till late

Happy new friendships and lovely times

Happy new starting all over, anew.

Happy new photos from your camera

Happy new travels and sights

Happy new stories for all your blogs

Happy new year to each of you!

Almost A Whole New Year

Don't you love that 'new' word?

New year, new beginning, new-found freedom, new mercies... I especially like, "He makes all things new...."

Boy, do I think of that one a lot. Of course, its meanings are myriad and varied, but on the thousands of average mornings when I'm cooking Tom's oatmeal--again-- and feeding the cats--again--and shoveling snow with my coat thrown over my robe--again--and, later, washing dishes--again--and straightening these rooms--again-- well, I'll take any drop of newness God can spare.

I so don't want to spend my allotted days just sleepwalking my way through them all bored and drudge-like. Homemakers can easily do that, you know, what with staying home within their oh-so-familiar walls. Yet if I enjoy the mundane then nothing is mundane. Or something like that.

Each morning I need Grace to make cooking breakfast feel new and making my bed feel new and the promise of hours ahead feel new, also. I need her to lift up my creative spirit when it sags and blow and breathe new life into my dreams when they deflate. For they do sometimes, you know.

And I'll tell you--with God and with all things being possible--Life, the daily kind, feels new every morning, afternoon and evening. But only as I allow Him to make me new--to change my old ways of thinking and doing and being.

And therein lies the secret. And the joy.


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This blog has lots of cute decorating ideas inside and out.... Was surfing around this morning and discovered it.

Anniversary Number Thirty

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled blog post for a commercial:

"Are you tired of paying high heating bills every winter? Want to know how to save money on heating costs?

Well do what Debra does. She wears a knitted cap on her head inside the house!

She heard that the majority of our body heat escapes through our head so for two winters she's worn her cap. And sets her thermostat at just 62 or 63 degrees (lower overnight) and wears two or three knitted long-sleeved shirts and two or three pairs of socks. And keeps moving. Or when she stops to watch tv or read, she does so beneath two blankets.

This is how Debra keeps warm during winters and how she saves money. Try it today!" シ

Now back to our regularly-scheduled blog post--

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Can it really be November 25th, 2008? Can it truly be Tom's and my 30th wedding anniversary? My oh my. Half the time I feel only 29 years old so how can this be? And half the time both Tom and I still feel like the totally clueless kids we were when we said, "I do."

But all the time I still anticipate awaking Tom, having him awake in my world and talking with me about whatever is on my mind, be it important or (usually) not. Either way, doesn't matter. We still chatter like proverbial magpies.

And where probably most couples would throw a big party for their 30th, Tom and I have celebrated the majority of the days of our years. Always we feel we are celebrating something. Maybe that's how real love is supposed to feel.

No, after Tom awakens this probably-snowy afternoon (he worked night shift last night), we will order lunch (from the only place in town which delivers), we'll watch a Netflix movie and enjoy our gift to each other on this big, landmark anniversary--our ancient old farmhouse which we bought this past summer. This place which tests and tries us and is growing us up into better people (I think. I hope.).

And for us, that's about as good as it gets. For us, we can imagine nothing better, for we're as happy together as we can be.

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Okay. I'm going to go all controversial on you but I think you can handle it. Maybe.  シ

So. According to yesterday's cover of Parade Magazine, "Saavy and determined, Reese Witherspoon learns: 'Family is all we have in Life.'"

Uh, really? I disagree.

What about God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit? What about the Bible, our friends, our homes, pets, books, talents, hobbies, memories?

Or how about mountains, oceans, forests, deserts, meadows and farmland? And libraries, museums, churches, schools and cities--those we've visited and have yet to visit? What about photography, shopping and Christmas?

Or what of teachers, preachers, neighbors and the waitresses down at the coffee shop? What about the Internet and blogs, bloggers and kindred spirits we've met or may never meet? Or music, letters in the mailbox or email?

What about glorious mornings and golden afternoons and dusk and the moon and shooting stars? What about friendship, porch-sitting or hiking or lying on your couch in the living room watching tv or dvd's of your favorite shows? What about tea parties, birthday parties, candlelight, chocolate cake, spaghetti, potatoes and roast? What about sports and our jobs and house cleaning and taking walks?

What about the myriad other things I've not even mentioned??

C'mon Reese-- have just one thing in Life? Really?

Or were you misquoted?


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"... but trust in the living God, who gives us richly all things to enjoy..." I Timothy 6:17


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Outside our windows this morning...

This (above) is the same side of the house which you see in my new header. Quite the difference, hmmm?

Okay, so I lied.

Yesterday I did not drive to the antique barn to buy the small box of old white dishes. Someday I will, though.

No, yesterday was so November golden, so pleasant, sunny and heavily scented, that I chose to stay home. The day before I was gone all day, what with voting with Tom in a nearby tiny town and then, later, spending the afternoon with my friend, Laura, in the city. We had a lovely lunch together, but after all the traffic, noise, and shopping, I drove home, windows down, through sunny country roads with the day nearly over and felt twinges of sadness that I'd missed a perfect autumn day at our farm. Soon the sun would set and cover it all in black.

So that's why I stayed home yesterday and stepped out the backdoor over and over to breathe deeply of hot pine branches and grass and leaf scents and to pick up dead branches (my never-ending job). And for hours on our bright front porch I sat with the sun heating my back, rereading Life Among The Savages and pausing to feel how good and amazing all this is. And to watch what a warm, gleaming November afternoon does here at our little farm.

I noticed our shiny wood floors and how the sun travels and slants through the new windows and the birds playing outside at the feeders. I stood in front of our glass-doored kitchen cabinet and appreciated our Fiestaware and the way the Jade-ite tea cups hang rather 1940-ish and then stared out at our meadow all quiet with that weekday afternoon silence. The new windows in the barn, the old compost frame, the burnt-orange leaves of the young oak trees.

I found it good. All good.

Everyone needs to take an Appreciation Day sometimes to see, really see what they've created so far. I'm glad I took mine yesterday.


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Did you know you can watch HGTV online? I discovered that just this week and was delighted since Tom and I have only 'baby tv cable' as I call it--twenty or so stations, but no HGTV. Watch it here.

So guess who arose at 4 o'clock this morning to take her hubby to the airport for a business trip? Yawn. Yes, Debra. What a lovely drive home, though, (the long, non-thruway way, of course). Classical music adding mystery to the dark streets--and almost no traffic out there at 5:30!

I love knowing I can find my way home from most areas of Buffalo and all areas of Niagara Falls. For this rather chicken driver, that's HUGE.

And though I've done my share of complaining about our weather, well, there's just something about surviving another Buffalo winter--a sort of pioneer kind of pride about it. I remember one winter in Nevada when we had almost no snow and scant freezing weather and well--for the year's remainder--my world slanted on its axis. Inside of me, something felt all wrong because we'd experienced no winter harshness.

You never worry about that happening when you live in Buffalo. ツ

April! I always breathe easier and more deeply when April arrives and snow storms are less likely. All this week we're due for sunny 50, even 60 degree days. Yessss!  I shall glimpse robins soon and the trees will someday turn green again. How marvelous, the promise of Spring.

If I had nothing else to celebrate, April would be enough. 

But I thank God that I--and all the rest of us--have so much more to sing, laugh and skip around about.

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Oh! I appreciate all your congrats so much. Thank-you!



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Ok. I just know that some of y'all are wondering if I miss my old house, the one I lived in nearly 15 years, the one whose each and every wall I lovingly painted.

Truthfully? I don't miss it. 

Oh, perhaps the sunroom, especially on these dark winter days. That room was nearly half-made of windows so there was a 'certain slant of light' in there, dark days or sunny. But no, I was so ready to move out. To move on to something new, even something tiny and temporary. The divine discontent within me was maddening (well, almost) and I so needed a change.

When God wants to change either our circumstances or something inside us, we need to cooperate or else very little will feel right. I could have clung to (and refused to leave) that larger, more comfortable house, but I'd not have been as happy and contented as I am in our tiny (tiny!) cottage apartment. 

I mean, the single mom behind us comes homes drunk on weekend mornings around 4:30 with at least three noisy friends, but you know? She's someone to pray for--someone for whom to do kind anonymous deeds. That's how I view her and her family, the one which sounds like a preschool right outside our doorway.

And there's another single mom upstairs, with three teens, but they are surprisingly quiet up there. And when I see her outside, I always must be the first to say hello--I think she's shy and oh my! I understand shy people after having been one for so very long. So I say hello first and usually make a little remark if she's not hurrying past me. Which usually she is.

Do I miss my old, quiet, retro house, the one with 14 years of amazing memories? Nope. I'm too busy enjoying this new phase God led us to by way of divine discontent. It's an interesting place, another home of learning and I'm in no hurry to move away.

And trust me, I am so not looking back, either. Only ahead to new adventures.


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P.S. Did anyone else love LOST as much as I did? Too many commercial breaks....argh. But I enjoyed every minute of the long-waited-for episode--even the states of confusion this show puts me in. ツ


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What a difference a day makes!

We had a blizzard yesterday. Endless, dark skies and snow blowing horizontally and cold, cold, cold. Some parts of Buffalo had flooding and flash freezing, but we were spared that. Tom and I had nowhere to go, no appointments, so we stayed home all day, Tom in his recliner and me either on the loveseat or at my tiny dining room office. I got out The Four Story Mistake and found it the perfect book for a stormy day, even for the tenth reread, or so.

Around 2:00 p.m. I looked at Tom still in his pajamas and asked aloud, "Why am I wearing my house clothes? Why don't I just get back into my nightgown and robe?" Tom said, "Why not?" so that's what I did.

Then I camped out on the loveseat while watching a terrific new show--Sue Thomas, FBI. Oh my. I call it my soap. I saw the first episode a couple weeks ago and have been so impressed with the actress who plays Sue. I mean, she makes lip-reading and signing look like the coolest things you can do upon this Earth. Eons ago, I took a sign language class for a few weeks but I didn't stick with it long enough to even begin appearing cool.

A bit later, someone knocked at the door and I made Tom answer it since his pajamas can pass for regular clothes if you don't stare at them closely. The neighbor boy asked to borrow a couple eggs because they were making chocolate cake and I loved that. We lived at our last house for nearly 15 years and no neighbor ever asked to borrow eggs, sugar, flour or anything! But I always hoped they would, for I wanted to feel as old-fashioned as possible in my neighborhood.

Anyway. Today is sunny and oh-so-clear and the 18 degrees feel like thirty. And since all of us were told to stay home yesterday if we had no place to go, everybody and his Uncle Mac is here today at the town library, including crying children. So, for the first time, I placed headphones upon my head hoping it would silence some of the noise, and well, it kinda does. But I'm thinking about Sue Thomas again and how in a library full of crying children, being deaf wouldn't be so very tragic--at all.

And I'm also thinking that today is the final day of my self-imposed January vacation. Though I didn't have as many restful days as I'd dreamed, I had enough. In fact, I did watch the scandalous amount of tv I told you I would and I believe my brain has turned to mush.

So here's to returning to Real Life! To un-mushing my brain and moving on to new things and even back to some old ones, also.


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