"This Is Only a Test"

Life becomes a million times easier (I think, anyway) when you understand that many things are just simply tests. God is watching to see what grade we're getting and how much we've learned--or yet need to learn.

Take this morning. 

I could no longer sleep so I got up at 4:00 a.m. (Kinda hate it when that happens.) While heating water for my pretend coffee, I peered out our kitchen windows and spied something moving in the shadows, just out of range from our motion-sensor light. At first I thought it was the neighbors' annoying pure black cat who tip-toes right up to our front porch and stares through the glass of our storm door, and who we must make certain is nowhere near when we allow Lennon to sit with us on the porch.

But then I saw that this black creature had white feet/lower legs and it walked more like a dog. "Hmm," I thought. "I've not seen any dogs like that around here and why would he be out at 4 in the morning anyway?" Well, it remained in the shadows and I stepped away to pour the hot water and forgot about it.

Fast-forward 5 hours later when, in the daylight, I walked to the backyard to pour birdseed in the feeders. As I walked back toward the house I smelled a subtle, more-than-annoying scent of skunk. Oh dear. That must have been what I'd seen. 

Not a cat, not a dog, but a skunk. 

Good grief. And I thought having a woodchuck living in our tiny backyard was a nuisance! Perhaps the skunk even kicked out the rabbit family which lives underneath the shed and maybe he lives there now. Eegads.

So all day I'm repeating, "This is only a test. This is only a test." Far better is it to reassure myself that way, than to imagine the skunk will never move away, that I'll always be afraid to go in the backyard now (especially in evenings), that this will have an effect on selling our house and yada yada yada.

But compared to my next test, that was nothing.

Ever since Tom left on Sunday, (he's due back late tonight), I've been watching Monk Season 5 dvd's (thanks to Netflix). Hours and hours of Monk episodes--it's how I'm spending my vacation. :) It's important that I tell you that so you'll understand where I'm coming from--

At 4:30 today I got a call from a stranger at the Reno airport saying he'd found a cell phone on the floor, this phone with which he was now speaking to me. He said he'd be upset to lose his cell phone so he pushed the 'Home' button and was now wondering what I wanted him to do.

So of course (after all those Monk episodes) this picture came to my mind: My sweet little husband was sitting at the airport when suddenly a couple thugs came along, grabbed him by the arms, his cell phone dropped to the floor, and they ushered him outside, telling him to keep quiet or he'd be sorry.

(Hey, don't tell me you've never imagined anything like that!)

Well, I asked the guy (who sounded very kind) to have Tom paged and I thanked him for calling me, etc. And then right away, yes, you guessed it, I began repeating, "This is only a test. True, it's odd that Tom was at the airport way before his flight, but it's not odd for him to lose things. Not even."

This is only a test. This is only a test.

So I prayed for Tom's safety and prayed, also, that I'd pass this test, and then I washed the French door glass in our Cozy Room (to stay busy) while I watched Oprah. And a half-hour later Tom called me--from his cell phone. A bit sheepishly. They'd paged him, he had his cell phone back and all was well.

Whew. Always I'll be grateful for having learned about the whole 'this is only a test' thing. Rather than worrying about what might happen in any adverse circumstance, instead, the worry shifts to, "What should I do to pass this test so that God will be pleased?"

And that's a type of worry I can handle.


******


"You will remember all the way the Lord your God led you in the desert these forty years, to humble you, and how He tested you to know what was in your heart to see if you would keep His commandments or not." Deuteronomy 8:2


******

For a more detailed post about tests, here's one I wrote years ago.

This and That

Yesterday was fun. I met with a woman from the Maud Hart Lovelace online email group and we did the 'Tacy Tour' here in my area. (No axe-murdering took place. heh. She and I shared stories of how our mothers, especially, get concerned when we visit with people we met online.) 

The real Tacy of the Betsy-Tacy books moved to Buffalo after her marriage, Maud Hart Lovelace (Betsy) often visited her here, and both 'Tacy' and her husband are buried nearby. For photos from our day together, go here. But if you've not read the books, the photos will probably, well, not exactly thrill your heart.

Then after lunch at that Happy Days-like place on the river, she followed me in her car miles and miles out to the countryside, the road Tom and I take amongst all the farmland, barns and cobblestone houses, the road which would take her home. We stopped at the secluded book cabin I've told you about, left our quarters and bills in the metal box by the door (remember, this is the tiny place run on the honor system) then said good-bye. Ah, another gold star day for my diary.

***

And then there's today.

My, my. After that whirlwind, memorable activity yesterday and after all the cleaning of the house the past week and a half (and all the people walking through it, even last night), well, today has been quiet. 

I keep feeling I should GO somewhere. DO something. SPEND some money. But God keeps saying, "Just enjoy the quietness of home. Read some books and sit on the porch. Relax. Spend some extra time with me."

Normally, I have no problem just hanging-out. Normally, I pray for days like this. But you get used to a faster pace and it becomes harder to come down from that.

So often I only think I want something, when really, I'm not even certain I'd like it if I got it. I mean, I'll be out and busy then start wishing to be home alone in the silence. Or so often on Tom's days off he's wanted me to watch a movie with him or to travel someplace and I've thought, "Sigh. If only I could just have a day all to myself."

Well, Tom's away and now I have these few days to myself. And frankly? Doing Sunday afternoon alone was enough. Those hours felt long enough for no constraints upon my time.

Now guess who's happily anticipating Tom's return? 

And more, I've been reminded--

interruptions aren't so bad after all 
a To Do List isn't something to dread
nor is structure a curse. 

Not always having my own way means I have adventures I never would have had otherwise.

Oh, and often what I desire is only a tad of something, not a huge amount. Usually what I need is only a small change.

And may I remember that.


***

Most days? What I need isn't more money or a larger house, but more wisdom and creativity. Not more attention or fame, but more humility. Not more time, but more wisely-spent time. Not better friends or relatives, but more forgiveness--and mercy.


*****

So this weekend I dropped Tom off at the airport so he could fly away and take care of some family business in far-off California.

I am unofficially on a vacation, myself. Sorta.

On my way home from the airport I bought coffee and sang along with Carrie Underwood and felt light of heart, even though I was headed home for two hours of cleaning before the real estate lady arrived for the open house. Amazingly, I looked forward to cleaning house that day. (Can't figure that one out, myself.)

Nearing home, I stopped at an estate sale inside a house where time stood still decades ago. The home, obviously, had been decorated in the late 1960's and then left mostly unchanged.

I love it when that happens.

Oh, vintage papered rooms galore. I let myself slip backward four decades for this was a smallish two-story house, but the type where rooms appeared in odd places, like a surprise, and your eyes fell upon boxes of Modern Miss magazines from 1967 or the tops of beds with gauzy scarves and black fake leather purses beside hat boxes and seafoam-green formals.

The type of house where you could picture daughters in the fluorescent-pink upstairs bedroom buttoning their mini-skirts and putting on thick layers of mascara. Where possessions were cared for, treasured and appreciated.

Then in a retro fog I drove away, inspired, more anxious than ever to return to my own cozy Craftsman bungalow, to care for what I've been given, making it presentable and sweet for those who would soon walk through my own rooms.

So much living goes on inside a house! We, ourselves, create memories daily and may I consciously choose to create peaceful ones to be cherished far away from now, when everything has changed.

You know, rather than ones I'll pray to forget.


***

Psalm 37:11
"But the meek will inherit the land
and enjoy great peace."

The good news: My dad is doing better. My sister called and said the infection hadn't reached his blood, as the doctors had feared, and well, he's improving now. Finally.

Thanks so much for your prayers! Things were pretty shaky there for awhile (I spared you some scary details).

And thanks, also, for your comments to my last post. I appreciate hearing from those of you who have been where I am now.

I mean, months past I felt alone amongst Tom and Naomi when it came to making some healthy changes, but now, thank-goodness, Naomi is even more on board than I am. And Tom is trying to play along, even though it's hard for him.

All my life I've watched people lose the Game of Life too early. I've seen some folks become old, frail, sickly at 50.

I want to win the Game of Life. So I'm making changes.

Of course, you talk about change and people get scared. Years ago I heard in a sermon that if you are making some changes, get ready to receive flak and criticism from those closest to you. Why? Because seeing that you are changing is a reminder that they are not. 

And that is threatening. And just downright annoying.

When I talk about 'going natural' mostly I mean leaving fancy, new-and-improved products alone. Like not using aluminum cans, microwave ovens, plastic wrap, etc. And returning to basics, back to foods which have not taken showers in pesticides or been chemically altered. Foods God invented--not ones man tinkered with or food from animals led down the winding antibiotic trail.

And well, you know. You've heard it all before.

But another type of change I need to make? Not worrying, but trusting, instead. Relaxing, even in a crisis. Forgiving people and handing out lots of mercy--realizing that's just as vital as anything I let slide down my throat or rub across my skin.

The negative emotions we allow to soak our bodies matter, as well.



******

I'd appreciate it if you could pray for my dad.

Sigh.

He's in the hospital with either a bladder infection or an infection from the prostate surgery he had last month, and as of yesterday, it sounded like the doctors are clueless about the whole thing. And in the meantime, my dad is not doing well at all, wasn't eating and was barely drinking. He has a whole list of medical conditions. A long list.

In the last month while researching natural cures, organics, health and wellness, I've been growing beyond-upset with the FDA. 

I can't even tell you how mad I am that natural cures have been hidden and ridiculed because they won't bring in any money to the powers-that-be--. And how popping pills is advised, nutrition is usually ignored, and the effects of stress/worry/unforgiveness are rarely mentioned. 

Well, don't get me started.

When my mother called yesterday, I asked her if they'd been giving my dad plenty of good, strong, pure cranberry juice for the bladder infection. I already knew the answer. My dad is one to take medication after medication and through the years has grown only worse. But my mother did say, in a surprised voice, that a nurse did mention the cranberry juice thing.

Sigh. I've used cranberry juice to clear up anything which even resembles bladder or urinary tract infections for more than a decade and always it has cleared things up. My mother sounded as though she'd never heard of such a thing.

So my frustration with the FDA jumped off the scale yesterday and today God is telling me to calm down, saying that anger only worsens everything. It will not help, especially, it will not help my own body.

What will help? Spreading information. Letting others know what I am learning as I do research of health and wellness online. And doing as our daughter is doing--she's helping a family next door to her learn all about eating right and using natural cures (they once lived in Love Canal and have lost loved ones to cancer). And well, they're experiencing downright miracles in their home! And our daughter is finding a purpose in life like never before and is more excited--and healthy-- than I've seen her in years.

I realize this is a controversial post--you won't need to point that out to me in my comment box. But this is my blog. This is what I'm feeling today. And again, I'd appreciate prayers for my dad at this time. 

Thank-you.



******

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven... a time to be born, and a time to die..."

***

If there's any verse which pops into my mind nearly every day, it's that one. I mean, there's a season for EVERYTHING. 

A time to be and act like a child--and a time to grow-up and act like an adult. A time to be in your 30's and a time to be in your 50's. A time to have young children in your home and a time for them to move away and create their own lives. A time to have a large house and yard, and a time to downsize. A time to travel to faraway places and a time to stay home.

I feel and know such incredible peace when I cooperate with my current season. 

It's when I try skipping seasons or jumping into the wrong ones that I experience trouble and discomfort. When Naomi was ten, I worryied and feared the time she'd leave home--and us. But there was no grace for me to ponder Naomi's leaving when she was only ten! The grace arrived when the time came for her to go. In fact, the last two years she still lived at home--from ages 23-25--the grace to have her there was, well, thin. A case of mixing-up the seasons again?

Tom and I have a small yard now, but we'd like a larger one next time. We figure we have around ten good years left in us to work a bigger yard, and perhaps a larger house as well. Sometimes we still kick around the dream of creating a bed and breakfast inn within our home. And maybe having a foster child or two. Again, we figure these next ten years will probably be our last ones for taking on such big dreams. After we've turned 60, well, who knows?

And truthfully? We're ok with that. 

With the not-knowing our exact future or how many more active years we have left. Oh, in my younger years I used to declare I would always, even at 90, live in my own house, even alone if it came to that (heaven forbid), as long as I could remain independent (with a few cats thrown in, as well. Uh-oh.).

But guess what? I find myself changing with life and wisdom. And I have days--even now at just 48--where we drive by the senior apartment building in our town and as we pause at the traffic light, I watch the elderly women sitting upon the benches beneath the trees out front--and I think, "That looks fun. I'll bet they play tea party in their homes." They sit, laugh and sow seeds of friendship and reap gardens from those seeds. They're not alone, but have companionship, not only lest they fall, but lest they feel lonely. 

I can think of worse ways to grow old and trust me, I no longer hold onto that thing of preferring to live on my own rather than move with others close to my age. No, I've released that. Why? Because I've learned to respect seasons, their ebb, flow and their differences. And to bask in the jeweled moments and opportunities each season brings--during its own hour, not waiting until after that hour has passed.

Besides, when God truly is the most important person in your life? When your great delight is a cup of coffee in the morning with Him? Then you have nothing to fear, for you realize whichever season or place He'll be right there across the table from you. 

And He will always be enough.





******

Lennon(r) and McCartney(l) on a Wednesday afternoon.

Ten years old. Brother and sister.

My buddies.

And my sunny livingroom today, as well...

(Click for a sunnier effect.) :)

Isn't it wild how everything always seems to happen at once?

I mean, on the vast majority of Tom's typical days off, you'll find us sitting (reclining like slugs) in our Cozy Room, pondering that vital question, "Which of our two Netflix movies will we watch first?"

Or I'll turn to his recliner from my own and say, "Tom, we need to find new hobbies. Or just go someplace. This is pathetic. We are pathetic."

So either our life is like that, or it's like it is now.

Our house is up for sale and I have to keep it clean all the time. We have plans to move to Richmond, but nothing is on paper. We may have to move to a rental somewhere here first. Then Tom flies out to California next week to meet with his family and help decide where his parents should live (of course, that means Tom's planning his itinerary to the millisecond and getting everything in triplicate). 

After I drop him off at the airport, I'll drive back here and meet with the real estate lady for our open house. While Tom's gone, I'll keep this house clean and repairing a few things, also. Pour through Richmond real estate online, pack, and I'll meet with a woman from a listserv I've been part of for 7 years for a book-related outing (but that's fun). 

And of course I'm still overhauling our diet, going organic and trying to learn all there is to learn about nutrition (which involves unlearning a whole heck of a lot of stuff). 

And I'm not even mentioning that McCartney The Cat, had to go to the doctor for a tooth absess and giving her an antibiotic each night is like force-feeding a toddler spinach (ever seen a cat hold its breath and then purposely drool out all the medicine you gave it?).

It's like going from 0 to 60. From one life to a whole other one.

But you know? This is good for me. It's good to be tested on all I have shared with you here, to be challenged: will I choose my ideas or God's? Will I lose my joy and thus, my strength? It's good to view just how real, strong my peace is--or isn't. The places where it can too easily be punctured. 

And it's good for me to remember that this is how many of you live every single day, what with that Life-is-just-one-long-merry-go-round-ride feeling.

Because sometimes I forget. But trust me, lately I've been reminded and oh, my hat is off to each of you. You have my respect--trust me.


***

John 14:27 ... "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

Ones peace should not be a fragile sort of thing.


*****

Still here!

Our house has been shown three times so far and a large parade of realtors will be whisking through this morning at 10:00.

Our house has smelled delicious--mostly--for days now. Want to know the easy way to scent your home? I have two secrets:

1.) Use your coffeemaker. Make at least half a pot of something aromatic and keep it brewing for an hour or more. Currently, (because we've switched to organic and we got this other kind, in unopened cans, at a yard sale for 50 cents each)I'm using Folger's French Vanilla. Yum.

(Update years later: For this purpose? This coffee still works best.)

2.) Buy a small bottle of scented oil (I get the cinnamon kind for less than $3. And think oil, not water.) Then go around the house placing drops in bowls of potpourri, rub a little on the underside of furniture, place on wreaths or dried-flower-valence thingies, etc.

That's it! Unless your house smells downright vile, these two ideas make a quick, ten-minute fix. People have been stepping into our house exclaiming, "Oh! It smells so nice in here!," and well, trust me--with ten-year-old burbour carpet and two (formerly 6) cats-- that's truly saying something, indeed.

See you soon--and thanks so very much for your comments of the past few days!



****

So the For Sale sign is on the front lawn and already two couples are scheduled to tour the house, one for this afternoon and the other for tomorrow at 3:00.

And I am surrounded by such incredible peace about selling our house.

No, really! Of course, it helps that I feel Grace all over this and also? Our high temperature yesterday was only 68 degrees.

Besides feeling beyond-ready for a new adventure, the first-born-neat-freak-June-Cleaver part of my personality loves keeping a neat, ready-for-company house. Part of me delights in walking through the finished, pretty rooms. 

The other part wishes it didn't take so much energy and foresight to keep them this way. And I still need to declutter and make nicer our guest room and basement, but even as they are right now, they're much more presentable than when it's just us around here.

Of course, you may want to bookmark this post and rub it in my face later if we end up moving, like, three different times in the next year and I'm whining and crying about it all. Heh.

But for today, I'll just continue the decluttering,straightening and cleaning in a peaceful, grateful fashion--enjoying the process and the progress. 

And enjoying Grace and God in all the details.



*****

There's just something about Buffalo.

Yesterday on the subway, Tom and I sat behind a dad and his young son and, not being certain which stop to get off for the Bison baseball game, I told Tom that we should simply follow those two because, most likely, they were headed toward the game, also. The son resembled every kid you'd ever seen at a movie baseball game.

So we alighted from the car when they did, but alas! They weren't going to the game. But call it a mistake? No way, for Tom and I walked along two blocks to the beat of an amazing rhythm-and-blues group playing to released-from-the-office crowds for the daily lunchtime concert. A soundtrack for our stroll past happy people and tables for the Thursday Farmer's Market, with rows of bright gold,green and red fruit and vegetables.

Hot dog vendors, everywhere, and yes, we succumbed and ordered two. We slathered them with mustard then sat upon a short wall amongst trees resembling an orchard growing out of concrete. Friends smiling, talking with heads bent close, laughing and oh, everyone was in such a great mood!

When I first, 14 years ago, got off the plane to come live here in Buffalo, I felt in my heart that people were singing and dancing in the streets. And yesterday--not for the first time, either--I viewed that with my own eyes there in downtown. 

As I said, there's just something about Buffalo.

Tom and I felt we'd been invited to a party. And something else? I felt I'd glimpsed a tiny bit of Heaven,for here were streets where people danced, laughed, sang or just walked with smiling, grateful eyes.

Freedom begins on the inside then flows outward. It colors everything seen with the eyes and felt with the heart, like music played so all can dance and celebrate.



******

The realtor came yesterday and all went well.

 The sign goes up on the lawn tomorrow, the wandering group of bleary-eyed realtors will walk through on Tuesday, then we'll have open house on Sunday, the 26th. And today we are off with our daughter and some friends to a Buffalo Bison baseball game downtown guess-where. 

Tom received a bunch of free tickets from work.

So in the meantime here's a fun passage from one of my all-time favorite books, My Life's History, the autobiography of Grandma Moses, the artist. Long ago and far away in Susanville, California, when I was a young (read: perky, cute, thin) mother, I, thankfully, discovered this book. Some of you will be scandalized by this passage, others will, I hope, let it help you relax as you raise your children. 

While Naomi was a teen, this passage often haunted me. And I'm glad.

Here's Grandma Moses:

"The children were always full of pranks, always in mischief with their young friends. One summer the two Reel sisters, whose brother Loyd had met at school, boarded with me for two or three weeks, and of all the frolics and mischief they got into! One day at the dinner table, after Thomas had gone out, someone threw water, then someone else. Then the battle was on, some were running out of doors, out to the pump and commenced to throw it by the bucket-full. Some ran upstairs for protection, and they threw water out of the window, nearly drowning the ones under the window. The battle grew hotter, and they threw the water into the window till it ran down the back stairs into the dining room. Then one of the sisters said, she would not stand for it if she was me. I told her to let them have fun while they were young and could, it would be something to laugh about when they were old--and now they do.

It was a rollicsome, happy house, and their father would join in with them, he really was one of them."

******

The realtor is coming on Wednesday to list our house for sale which means tomorrow, all day, I will be cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning some more.

So today I will show you pictures from around my house as it looks today and may not look so tomorrow, I am not sure. In fact, I am not sure about a few things, one of which is how often I'll be able to post here in my blog these next few weeks and months. But I'll try to write as faithfully as I can.

The above photo is from our dining room and so is this one:






All this turquoise (not so dark in real-life) is upstairs in my Dream Room.

And these last two photos are from our guest room.

Laughter, Like Medicine

I just finished rereading my favorite part of Betty MacDonald's, Anybody Can Do Anything, the part where she finds a job tinting photographs back there in the 1930's in a shop where, to the owner, the more ghoulish and garish the photo tinting, the better.

 I had to slip down here to the basement because Tom is sleeping (graveyard shift last night) and I was afraid my guffawing aloud would wake him.

I love Betty's books, at least, the one I mentioned above and also Onions in the Stew and The Plague and I. Her first book, The Egg and I, well, on a few levels, I didn't like, though I do own the movie.

Only Betty could give the Great Depression a funny spin and only she could make having tuberculosis in a sanitarium sound like a humorous, friend-making adventure.

Each year I reread at least two of Betty's books, but always a bitter-sweetness will hang over me a couple days. (Betty died at only 49 of cancer, back in the days when no one spoke about how dangerous smoking could be). 

But something else? I always feel the yearning for even one-tenth of Betty's sense of humor. Or even less-- I'll take whatever I can.

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine."  Many are the reasons the Bible says that.

 Without a sense of humor,well, we are sunk. Generally, serious sober-side-types (or saddos, as Betty called them) repel people instead of draw them. We can even repel ourselves from ourselves, not wanting to be alone with our old, negative self.

And no, I don't mean we're to laugh our way through Life. And yes, there is a balance and a time for everything. But as for me? May I lean toward the happy side of the scale.

I'm glad I'm rereading Betty's books, for they change my eyesight as I peer closer at the way I look upon Life. And represent it.


***

"Happy is the man that finds wisdom, and the man that gets understanding." ... Proverbs 3:13

"I will be glad and rejoice in You..." Psalm 9:2


******

A Country Season Approaching?

I forgot to tell you that last weekend Tom and I went to our local, smallish County Fair.

We loved every moment and farm-like detail.

The baby pigs were so cute, that I wanted to pick them up and hug them. And as Tom said, you kept expecting one to step over to you and say, "Hi, I'm Wilbur."

The Bantam chickens enchanted us, the goats stole our hearts (though the ones without ears just looked, well, odd), the lambs and bunnies were sweet, floppy and adorable. 

We drooled over the classic old cars and we even enjoyed the old-time gospel singers while we sat inside the shady tent with our Sicilian white pizza, even though that's not what you'd call our favorite type of music.

Clearly, we're becoming country people.

I mean, today at a yard sale I came across a box of free old Country Woman and Country Journal magazines, issues I probably glanced through years ago. But now I'm devouring them for information. I want a tiny farm so much!

Who is this woman?

Yes, I'm changing lately, but who wants to remain forever as she was at 35? Perhaps some women, but not me. I want to always be pliable in God's hands, responding to His seasons for me so that I won't miss out on anything.

And I'm thinking lately that these upcoming years will be my country season.

So what remains is for me to make the right decisions, to be in the right place at the right time. And may I not wait too long or be afraid to step into these years. 

This right window of time will not last forever. Someday I will be too old to plant a big garden, chase after chickens and walk a country mile.
Someday during my older years there'll be a less active season so may I glance backward at this current one with gratitude, smiles and no regrets.


***

Speaking of which... Days ago I found a great new-to-me blog, written by a woman who lives not so far away from me. Her blog is called I Live On a Farm. I think you'll enjoy it.

The most contented people I know are those who realize--and accept--that nothing in this life on Earth lasts forever--and that everything changes. Everything, except for God, Himself.


******

This morning I received a huge dose of patience.

According to Good Morning America, Richmond, yesterday, was 20 degrees hotter than we were here in Buffalo. Twenty degrees.

Good. Grief.

So today you may color me extremely, wildly patient regarding our someday move to the Richmond area.

For Those Bogging Down In The Health Food Aisle

Just a short pick-me-up for you who are also changing what you eat and use in your home.

Years ago I watched a Christian tv program about a woman who, two years earlier, was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome. They showed her shopping in the health food aisle, replaying the thoughts she'd had months after her doctor recommended she totally overhaul her diet. Here were some of those thoughts:

"It's not fair that I have to give-up my favorite foods."
"It's like learning how to cook all over again."
"All these organic, whole foods are more expensive."
"I feel like I'm the only person eating this way."

And then she shared what she heard God tell her after she'd whined like that:

"Oh, I feel so sorry for you. You have to eat these wholesome, organic foods and now you're feeling a hundred times better. You're learning about nutrition, you no longer feel exhausted all the time, and you look like a new, vitalized person. Yes, you poor, poor thing."

She got the point. She quit complaining.

And years later, I still recall her story, especially while I'm standing in the quiet health food aisle, the one which usually gives me that lonely, ghost town feeling. (Insert the ol', "Hello? Hello? Hello?" echo here.)

And each time, I am encouraged. I hope you'll be encouraged, also.



******

Are We Having Fun Yet?

 I had to smile when I read Maggie Ann's comment to my last post this morning:

"Sounds like you are having fun."

Well, kinda-sorta.

Actually, it's major test-taking time around my house and life. More than ever I feel God watching me take these tests and we're both discovering whether I've done my homework these past months--or not.

See, last Thursday morning at 8:00 a.m., Tom's mom called and since that meant it was only 5 a.m. her time, we knew there was trouble. There was. While traveling down to their granddaughter's wedding, Tom's dad fell and broke four ribs. Oh dear. For months now, he has been falling and has had strokes. And for months now he--at 80--has refused to move into any type of a senior community (nice, safe duplexes) where he and his wife could live way more comfortably and with some help. 

He says he doesn't want to be with all those Old People over there. Doesn't want to give up any of his stuff.

And well, there's more, but I will spare you.

At first, Tom and I decided we'd both take a trip out there, even though my own parents would be upset that we couldn't travel the few hundred miles to their house this time. Even though I've never had anyone else give Lennon the Cat his daily shots of insulin and ----

But after trying to force things to work out, we decided two major things: Tom will travel--alone--later this month to see his parents. He'll have a meeting with them and his sisters to find some kind of a workable solution. Tom is a wonderful mediator, and well, we both know, no matter how hard I tried to stay silent, I'd say something which would cause the whole situation to erupt like the proverbial volcano.

I'm funny that way.

And when I decided to stay home--poof!--instant peace flooded both of us. But alas! Will I be remaining here twiddling my thumbs? No, that brings me to my other announcement: We've decided to go ahead and sell our house. Or at least try. 

We both agreed that we'll just rent something so to be free to move when the time comes. 

Because we are moving--most likely to Richmond--but we are moving out-of-state someday, that's certain(?) And we're ready to release this house to the next family who will, hopefully, love it as much as we have.

Also while Tom's gone, I'll do major packing. And you know? Selling the house and packing stuff--to me--sounds much calmer, much more pleasant than flying to California for those few days. And to Tom, going away and doing what he must do sounds like a vacation to him.

Following Grace is like that. Grace has a way of adding ease, strength and enjoyment to anything God has called us to do.

Yet without Grace, well, I'd be sunk. And I'd be failing all these tests.

But so far, so good.



******

Giving Tea Parties For My Flowers (And Other Odd Behaviors)

So for years I've tried to like drinking tea. Honest. 

But sadly, I'm still stuck at the point where, if I dump in enough sugar and cream, I can tolerate a cup at the occasional tea party (where tea is the only drink served).

Anyway, last week I read in an old-fashioned cookbook that you should only buy the amount of tea which you will use in two or three weeks. After that, it'll go stale and not taste as delicious (as if it ever could. heh. I couldn't resist. Sorry.).

Well, I thought, "So much for all my 8-year-old good-intentioned boxes of tea! Guess I may as well toss them in the trash."

But just in time I came across this wonderful gardening book: Yankee Magazine's Panty Hose, Hot Peppers, Tea Bags, And More--for the Garden. What a fun tips-for-gardening book! Always, I've appreciated gardening books which skip all the long-winded whys, philosophies and Latin names of plants--and instead--just tell me what to do. The shorter the sentences, the better.

And this book told me to put leftover tea bags in my flower pots to give nutrients, nitrogen and organic matter to my flowering plants. Cool! 

So after years of wishing I could make homey-looking sun tea in a jar on the porch like my neighbors, yesterday I made my first batch of sun tea--for my flowers. Tea, tea bags, and all. Those ancient tea bags I nearly threw away? I included those.

So now I get to make sun tea like the other kids on the block. Ah, simple pleasures.

I highly recommend the aforementioned fun book (wait till you see their ideas for coffee!). You'll find hundreds of hints on how to reuse household throw-away stuff and make your garden more lush, beautiful and a much more fun place to hang-out.



******

It All Matters

Another disaster. The bridge in Minneapolis. Each time something of this magnitude happens, I sit and stare at some of the coverage (no longer allowing myself to watch hours) --and I view my own life, too.

I ask myself if I'd have been ready to die, had I been one of those killed. Would I have been caught-up on all God wants me to do and be for Him? Would I have remained calm, confident that I'd soon be standing in Heaven?

And this morning while I made the bed, I contemplated something else.

I thought one of the saddest things for anyone in this life is the feeling that the way they're spending their days is unimportant--to God, to others, to themselves. How tragic to live each day feeling what you're doing does not matter. Always gazing into the future, believing someday your life will count--but that today, it doesn't. 

Or worse, to feel you don't even have a pound of hope for the future at all.

When I make the bed, it matters. And wash our dishes, clothes and our floors. God has called me to be a keeper of the home and trust me, it matters to Him--a lot--that we not live in filth.Tom supports me and I support him by making our home a restful, healthful place to return to from his job. And by caring for myself, I keep myself ready and able to meet his other emotional, mental and physical needs as well.

Whatever God has called you to do today? It matters. 

What you do and are has far-reaching effects and if you were gone? You'd be missed. A part of all our lives would be missing, if you weren't here--whether you, we, realize it, or not. We all make this world go 'round. Each of us.

I just wanted you to know that today.


******


And if you have a blog, trust me, that's important, too. You never know when someone will glean a thought, an inspiration, or an ounce of hope from your words... and be forever changed.


******