How To Prepare For a Mystery Future

"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."    ... Matthew 6:33

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I've heard people say lately, "It's not even possible to prepare for a Last Days type of world."

I, like, disagree.

How to prepare for a world we'll barely recognize, one stuffed with changes, even scary ones?

Today fall in love with Jesus. And stay there. (This will change and strengthen you more than anything else.)

Today remember perfect love dissolves all fear.

Today, during your current hard times, practice living with faith, with peace, without complaining. Increase your trust muscle. Pass your tests.

Today determine in your heart you'll never accuse God of wrongdoing, no matter what happens in the future.

Today stay at peace with your spouse. 

Today keep strife out of all your relationships as much as it's up to you. Strife slows everything down and closes our ears to truth.

Today forgive. Everyone. Today learn how to heal.

Today be obedient. Listen. If God asks you to do research, do research. If He asks you to spend your money differently, spend your money differently. If He asks you to live a new way, live a new way. 

Today ask God for wisdom.

Today plug into God's strength, His peace, His courage. Then He will truly be increasing, we will be decreasing and the world will more clearly see Jesus shining through us. And we'll be better able to walk in the Light, able to see--and avoid--certain dangers on the pathway ahead.

Today be still and know He is God.

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"He must increase, but I must decrease.”   ... John 3:30

"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone."   ... Romans 12:18

"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him."   ... James 1:5

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Oh, That I Had Wings...

"Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest--"  ... Psalm 55:6

That's the current verse playing inside my head. For months.

Even before I bought the book, One Nation Under Attack.

Even before I found this blog (which has returned me to thinking America is Mystery Babylon).

For the record, I believe the financial bottom of America will drop out within in the next 2 or 3 years. 

For the record, Tom and I are asking God to help us prepare in all ways for that and all else which will happen in the meantime and afterward.

Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away next week to a state with policies less opposed to God's, even though I've loved Buffalo for 20 years. But oh, this worldly New York way of viewing life...

Ack. There's this darn urgency inside the deepest layers of my heart... And may Tom and I choose the right timing in which to obey what we--and thousands of others-- are hearing. In whatever varied ways God chooses to lead us all.

This is presently where my head and heart are and in the months to come I'll try to keep a balance here in my blog. A balance of differing subjects and stories and things upbeat. But today I'm just letting you know that..... if I had the wings of a dove I would fly away and be at rest... someplace else.

In the meantime though, I'll stay here, continue my many preparations and find my rest in Him.

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Why mention any of this? And why not keep it to myself lest some of my readers find me, well, cuckoo? This is partly why:

 "... if you fail to tell them to change their ways, then they will die in their sins, and I will hold you responsible for their deaths.
But if you warn them to repent and they don't repent, they will die in their sins, but you will have saved yourself." Ezekiel 33:9

And I'm not even concentrating on the 'repent part'. I'm leaving that up to God mostly. 

Rather, if things truly do go all dicey someday, I would hate for God to tell me, "And you never even warned anybody of this in your blog." 

For me, that would be the highest form of disaster.

So there you go. Do with this what you will... as will I. 

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These types of posts also keep me on my toes. I'm finding them in all sorts of places now, nearly always after I've already heard the same rumblings within my own head in the quiet places here at Hobbit Cottage. Pondering.... so much pondering within my heart lately.

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Prepare... prepare... prepare...


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Burdened or Challenged?

I must confess that I'm absolutely thriving on trying to save us money during this season of unemployment. It's like I was made for this.

I mean, during our early years of marriage I also thrived on pinching pennies. Oh the creativity of it all! The couponing, the sewing of clothes, the crocheting of blankets and the studying of library books dealing with how to make the most of what little you have. I remember those days now with many smiles.

But when we moved to Nevada? Suddenly we had more money than we needed and you know? I felt uncomfortable. I won't try to psychoanalyze myself all these years later, but I recall that as being the saddest time of my life, a couple years of terrible depression. Which, ok, didn't solely stem from the abundance of money, but from other things.

And yet during those years when we had more than enough money, I did more home sewing than ever and used more coupons and money-saving hints than ever, too. I told dear friends that I didn't want the extra money--I missed the feeling of being creatively challenged, instead.

Yeah, I'm one weird puppy. I know.

Then we moved to New York and Tom took a pay-cut to do so. Yay! So we returned to actually needing my money-saving skills and I was happy again (and ok, part of that happiness stemmed from having escaped the dreadful (to me) Nevada desert. I can't deny that.). But still, I felt back in my element, back to the real me, back to doing what I was called to do--being a wife and mom who enjoyed the challenge and creativity of staying within a tight budget. And probably just feeling vital and needed again was part of it, as well.

Years later, times got easier, we had enough money for whatever we needed and I relaxed my penny-pinching reins again, though never 100%. Then August of 2010 rolled around, Tom lost his job and ok, the first two days afterward I panicked! Oh, the shock of it all.

But after that? With a steely new determination I returned to my rusty ol' penny-pinching, money-saving ways. The buying clothes at thrift shops and trying never to pay full price for anything. The putting on an extra sweater instead of turning up the heat, making my household cleaners and hanging laundry on clothes racks/lines to dry. The reusing grocery bags, cardboard from cereal boxes, rubber bands from produce and cotton from vitamin bottles. The conscientious purchasing of necessities rather than an unconscious grabbing of pretty trinkets off shelves or yard sale tables.

And it all just feels so darn right. Like slipping into a custom-made pretty dress after you've lost ten pounds.

Yes, it's a challenge, but not a burden. And may my attitude never change about this whole thing--for if it does--the fun will all blow away.





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Pretty much? Our attitude changes everything. More than what happens to us, it's how we view our circumstances that determines our feelings about them--and Life.


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Remembering Over Thirty Years of Friendship

Tom and I knew Pete and Sandy 'Martin' from before we were married, but they became our good friends after our babies were born within months of each other. Matt was their surprise baby, welcomed by Brian and Shelly at home, two young teenagers, and from early days in the church nursery, Matt and Naomi adored each other.

So although Pete and Sandy were fifteen years older than us, we'd visit in each others homes and have fun and spiritual conversations while we watched our babies play. When they both turned four I babysat Matt on weekdays in our home while Pete and Sandy worked and Naomi felt as though she had both a close friend and a brother.

Years flew by (as they do) and we moved to Nevada where Pete, Sandy and Matt visited us sometimes. 

And whenever we traveled back to California to see Tom's family we'd stay overnight with the Martins. Sandy's strongest gift was hospitality and being a mom to all and always, she (and Pete) welcomed us to their home (and backyard parties and Bible studies), with opened arms. Even when we later moved to New York we'd visit our California relatives on vacations during daytime hours, but spend the nights with the Martins, talking, receiving wisdom from them, laughing, watching our children grow.

Matt and Naomi grew into adults (as children will) and at 22, Naomi went through a sad time so I phoned Sandy and asked if we could fly Naomi out there for a few days. Sandy acted thrilled at the prospect (which would involve a 2-hour drive to the Reno Airport), as though we were doing her a favor.

The Martins retired to a lovely, many-windowed home on a mountain-top in Oregon. We visited them there as they were getting settled on our way from the airport to my dad's memorial service in 2007. With incredible Swiss-like views from their windows we caught-up during a visit lasting just under 24 hours. We loved hearing their plans to offer their home as a retreat for pastors who were burned-out and our good-bye's, as always, were sad. You never know when you'll see good friends again who live across the whole United States.

I continued to send emails and Christmas cards after that good-bye, called them, too, as soon as we moved to our farm and invited them to come see us (they'd visited our suburb home around 1998). But after our 2007 visit we heard from them only a couple times, though that wasn't too unusual since Sandy didn't enjoy emailing like I do.

Then finally I heard from her two weeks ago with shocking news. Back in 2008 her doctors had given her 6 months to live. She gave no other details other than to say here she was 2 1/2 years later, still hanging in there and listening to good Christian teaching and staying positive. 

She'd been through hard times, but was feeling better.

At first I was sad that we hadn't known this sooner, but as I wrote back to her, if God had asked her not to tell us, then I could understand that. He's asked me to do plenty of wild things through the years.

Then last night we heard from Matt's young wife that Sandy passed away early Friday morning.

Oh dear. It's so hard to lose old friends! At these times, I realize how entwined our lives, our entire histories, are with others. How connected we become. We're still reeling, but grateful for the warning email Sandy sent two weeks ago, for this would be too great a shock without her words. I kept waking last night picturing Sandy in Heaven, having the time of her life dancing with Jesus and being reunited with her mom and other old friends in all that bright heavenly light.

Yet I kept picturing Pete and his three adult children and their families without the woman who loved them with all her heart, too. The woman whose greatest joys, truly, were God and family. Pete without Sandy? It's hard for me to imagine such a thing.

Well anyway, I just wanted to share Sandy with you and to ask for your prayers for all of us who loved her and will miss her even as the years fly by.

Thank-you so much.



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Sad Ponderings

I can't even express how horrible I feel.

Over at Facebook my niece said when her cat passed away last year she went to bed for two days, and well, I am about five minutes away from that. Or I would be, rather, if our bedroom had a tv, for without one, I would just lie there and keep playing the grief and regrets over and over worse than I'm doing already as I go about my daily tasks.

Oh Hindsight, you are cruel.

While driving home from the vet's office yesterday Tom and I discussed how we should wait to get another cat since we plan to move this year and--the more cats one has--the more complicated the move. Yet we get home and within five minutes what is Tom doing online? Staring at cats on the local SPCA webpage.

At least that made me chuckle.

While there, he read that it's not wise to get a cat who looks exactly like the one you lost, otherwise you'll make comparisons, and well, guess what I want to do more than anything? Find a cat who looks amazingly like Lennon, one I spend time with first to see if he has that extra something special. But still, I feel like I'll have to settle for second best for, yes, Lennon was that special.

Well, people say all sorts of varying, opposing things. Some say wait awhile to replace a cat, others encourage you to adopt one right away. So as with much in this Life, we must know ourselves and do as God leads since He custom-designed each of us and knows the cookie cutter approach is downright foolish.

Oh, but this pain is crushing and the 'if onlies' cut deeper still. More than ever I understand why people try so hard to distract their pain, to squash or drown it, to go around rather than through. More than ever, I get that. Yet always, healing only comes for those who go through for, one day, they find themselves stepping out of that doorway in the mountain of grief. But oh, those tunnels can seem eternal.

And sometimes I wonder if there's a special curse upon February--of any month, it seems I can count on this one to bring a tragedy, hence another reason why I must flee Buffalo's dark skies, jagged ice and dirty snow. Thankfully, Lennon's final day was filled with sunny-blue, warm skies as I clasped him against my heart and he gazed out the car window and they remained and comforted me after he was gone. But today the grey is back, the snow and icy winds, too, and well, as I said, I've got to get out of here. Out of February, too.

Dear Lennon

Lennon The Cat

March 1st, 1997 -- February 18, 2011



We will always be grateful that Naomi snuck you home from the flea market beneath her jacket, for she carried home to us a good listener, a gentle soul and a sweet, best friend.


We will always miss you, Lennon. You were such a good boy.

When Your View Is Snatched Away

I'm still remembering our September vacation. It makes me smile, even all these weeks later.

Except for one thing.

When we visited Tom's parents in their senior community of duplex houses, we saw the most appalling thing. Every ninety feet (or so), there were these concrete block 'dumpster buildings' being constructed. Ugly grey, three-walled and probably 7 feet tall, and that's without their soon-to-be-constructed pitched roofs.

And where did they construct these monstrosities? Just feet away from the living room picture window of Tom's parents' duplex as well as others here and there. Gah! Now their view of lovely trees, lawns and the sky is blocked by the harsh lines of concrete blocks.

I should have taken pictures to show you, but I didn't.

We couldn't believe it. I mean, their previous dumpsters were small and took up so little space on the curb. In comparison, they were barely noticeable. But now! Ugh. Those new structures practically stand there as citadels, what with their ventilation window reminding us of those openings in forts through which troopers would shoot long rifles.

In fact, one of our relatives (not Tom's parents) said he would be tempted to use that window for such a purpose in this case.

Gah. I told Tom and his parents that, had that happened in front of our house, I'd have been livid. I'd have thrown a huge fit. Tom's mom said that's just what she did, but oh well, there was nothing anybody could do. The powers that be, the owners of the complex, had come up with the (lousy) plan.

What a test! Could I pass that test? Well, definitely not without tons of Grace's help. What a challenge to forgive those who stuck concrete blocks in front of my only living room window. Would I be able to keep my sunny attitude? Could I think of a creative way of decorating that nearly floor-to-ceiling window within the rules of the complex? Could I rearrange such a small space and perhaps hang one of those wallpaper mural sheets (if that was allowed) and use that as a window to the outdoors, instead? Could I create a room so sweet and pretty that a ruined view wouldn't matter?

Only with much help from Grace. Much, much help. And I've a feeling that every bit of practice I've had from learning to receive from Grace would be squeezed into play in that type of situation.

I do love windows, their view, their light, especially. And well, some tests are harder than others, but all are passable with aid from God and Grace. But for me, this would be a really tough test, indeed.



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Philippians 4:13 (Amplified Bible)

"I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me [I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him Who [a]infuses inner strength into me; I am [b]self-sufficient in Christ's sufficiency]."

When Change Comes With No Warning

Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear.

Tom called me from his cell phone at 3:30 and said he was in the driveway and could I help him carry some things inside the house?

Three-thirty?! What was he doing home so early, I asked. "Is anything wrong?"

"Well, there's something not too right."

So I ran out to the car, reached for the bags inside the opened window and jokingly asked, "Well, you weren't fired were you?"

Tom replied, "Actually, I was laid off."

Oh dear. My stomach dropped. "Tom, you're not joking, are you? You wouldn't joke about this would you?"

No, turns out he wasn't kidding. He was in a group of 4 guys laid off today. The company is downsizing to just a tiny skeleton crew.

My first thought? "Breathe. Breathe. Stay calm. Save the tears for later."

And then, "This doesn't happen to us! Not after what amounts to 22 years with the same company." (Technically it's not the same company, but as close as it gets.) "This happens to other people!"

But it has happened. And if it's happened to you, I now know how you feel. In the nearly 32 years of our marriage, Tom has never been laid off. Never been without a job.

Sigh.

So right now we are all about scribbling numbers on backs of envelopes and what can we cut back on and --?? Well, you know.

And remember how I was complaining about this farm? Well, forget all that, ok? Just ignore those posts because, right now, at this moment, I am so grateful for this roof over our heads. This home place. This place we, hopefully, can pay off somehow so it will be ours (fortunately, we don't owe too much on it).

Wow. Change. It can happen in a moment.... in as long as it takes for someone you've worked with for 17 years to call you into his office and to, shakily, tell you he's sorry, but ..........

Everything will be all right (I keep telling myself). Please pray that we will make all the right decisions, ok? And that we won't become all negative and say a bunch of doubtful stuff. Tom and I so believe in the power of life and death being in the tongue... and we so want to honor God with our words. Even now.


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Proverbs 3:5
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding."

So on Wednesday I took some free Bison baseball tickets over to our neighbor, Rob, then he and I stood outside chatting while the guys finished siding our barn. I asked Rob if he could write up a list for Tom and me of classic car shows, ones along the countryside. Rob and Barbara take their own classic car to shows, like, every week, and although Tom and I aren't such rabid fans, we sometimes get weird cravings to walk amongst old cars from decades past. Rob said he'd go and make the list right away but I told him, "Oh! No, there's no hurry. Really, just whenever you think of it."

Then yesterday finally we had some cool, cloudy weather and I was determined to finish planting my garden and not waste any of my energy on mowing the lawn. So there I was weeding in the early morning silence when vroom-vroom-vroom, here comes Rob's elderly lawn pesticide guy on his death-spreading machine just three feet away from my garden. Three feet! Gah! Rob and Barbara's property line is at least 15 feet from my garden.

So the guy stops beside me, idles the engine, looks at me and says, "That's a nice garden." To which I, tight-lipped replied, "Thank-you." And if he hadn't left the engine idling I would have added, "Please! Could you stay on the other side of the telephone pole over there? That's the property line." But I have a soft voice and I generally refuse to yell over machinery since it's quite unladylike. So I said nothing and continued pulling weeds and he moved on, leaving those death granules everywhere.

Then, not wishing to inhale insecticides, I practically ran back inside the house, fuming (but telling myself to calm down) and yanked down every window which had previously been welcoming fresh air, but now I wanted to protect Lennon and McCartney and myself from inhaling the stuff within our own walls. And for an hour I sat inside the house waiting for pesticide fumes outside to magically waft away (as if). And making plans.

Then after that hour, I returned outside (trying not to inhale), this time to our Bunny Pasture where I yanked the weeds in the raised bed I'd made out there, then using my wheelbarrow and shovel, I transferred more dirt to the bed (is anything more exhausting than moving dirt around?). Then I grabbed my buckets, returned to my main garden and dug-up my lettuce and tomatoes (some of them) and transplanted them into the raised bed since it's farther away from our property line and the poisoned lawn where the insecticides are now running through the ground into my garden. And our grapevines. And our orchard trees.

Later I pulled-up the weeds in the other raised bed I have out there, but was too tired by then to add much-needed additional dirt. Maybe I can do that today.

And all along, God kept calming me down. Or trying. He kept reminding me not to create anything in anger, for then there will be no enjoyment before or after the work. And how the way we treat people is just about the most important thing on this Earth. Then when I tried whining to Him about how I can't handle all this, He told me, "Yes, you can, Debra. I'll enable you. Do things my way and it will all get done eventually, inch by inch."

Well, I'll need Him to help me big-time. Now I must add more raised beds to the Bunny Pasture and replant my huge main garden with flowers (since we don't eat those). All that moving around of dirt! All that digging, arranging, planting and replanting...

And when I wanted to get red-eyed angry with Rob for poisoning his acre+ lawn three or four times yearly, here he came walking toward me, holding the handmade list of the car shows. It was sweet of him to make us that list so soon--Rob is always helpful like that. He's one of our neighbors who snow blows our driveway for us and mows part of our lawn and--well, all that other kind, country neighbor sort of stuff.

Sigh.

After that kindness, I did calm down. And I just felt deflated and bad for this poor old world where people feel they must have perfect green lawns and for ignorance and disappearing bee colonies and people with cancer and elderly men who ride around on machines spreading insect poison while wearing no face masks.

And so Life goes. At least for awhile longer.

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"The Earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof."

We all have those times when everything bad seems to happen at once.

Your appliances break down. Your child gets into trouble at school. You get a speeding ticket and discover your registration has expired. An in-law dies. Your favorite tv show gets cancelled (as well as your vacation). You lose your wallet. Your best friend moves away. And the rain just won't stop.

You know.

I've been thinking about those times lately--not because I'm currently going through one--but because my daughter is and has been for at least two months. With more serious types of bad times.

The latest thing? Her favorite cat has been diagnosed with impending kidney failure and is now on dialysis. He's only seven (eight?) and these next two weeks will tell a lot about his future, whether he'll have one or not.

We all love Oreo The Cat. He lived with us for two years before Naomi moved to her own place and he's the most nearly-human cat we've ever known. This is hard on all of us, but especially Naomi and her former boyfriend and his brother, as well, who moved in with him when Naomi moved away last month. For Naomi, this has been one of those 'the thing I most greatly feared has come upon me' things.

We'd really appreciate your prayers if you are into praying for cats and for the people who love them.

And I'll just add this. Although we all hate those times when bad things happen all at once, I think I'd prefer that over something bad happening every two weeks all year long. We'd never get a break that way, we'd never have those stretches of a few months where we heal and Life feels so golden and sweet that we forget about those occasional weeks of constant hard times. Instead, you'd just begin to get over one thing and head into another, then another, then another. You'd almost feel like going through Life ducking your head all the time.

I'd never thought of it this way before, but rather, I'd just dreaded those occasional two or three months which will invariably bring along their share of annoyance, angst and sadness. But again, I'd prefer to get it all over at once, rather than live with one thing after another after another after another all year long, never getting a break, especially the kind of break only God can give.

And oh, how grateful I am that, during those times, He holds our hand and hugs our heart.

Uh-oh. I've caught the Mid-Summer Blahs.

I'm tired of the same ol' sunny days (blasphemy, I know).

I'm tired of my garden (it can go to seed for all I care).

I'm tired of yellow squash (and we've only eaten one-and-a-half out of hundreds).

I'm tired of mosquitoes, yard sales, pulling weeds and slapping Japanese Beetles into buckets of soapy water.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

But here's one thing I know: This, too, shall pass.

And in the meantime I'll forgive the less-than-great circumstances in my life, lest my head suffer from that serotonin thing again (heaven forbid). I'll mix things up a bit and not spend so much time home alone, doing the same ol', same ol'. I'll reach out and touch others with kindnesses. And I'll spend additional time with the One who has the wisdom to direct me out of this nameless, faceless cloud, step by step...

...and add a shot of real coffee to my hot chocolate. :)

And as long as I don't panic and make life-altering-for-the-bad decisions, all will be well again. Life will be sweet, laughter will live close to the surface and the simplest things will inspire me.

Thank-Goodness for that.

Well, officially as of today, my God-mandated 'medical leave' is over.

"Darn," said my lazy side.

"Hooray!" said my normal, energetic side.

So it's back to work today and I'm glad. Mostly. Sitting around and healing felt super at first, but tiresome toward the end. I think that's the clue--you know healing has come when you feel antsy to 'get back out there'.

I've a feeling I'll be more grateful for my medical leave in the future. I still feel there is something Big (and not nice) on the horizon for our Country as I hinted at here. My head feels better prepared to face it now, though I've no clear idea what "it" is.

And I'm so not alone in these feelings. David Wilkerson is hinting, too, and suggests we all have one month's worth of groceries at home at all times (when people panic, the first thing they usually do is strip supermarket shelves bare. Remember that.). Cindy Jacobs and Hal Lindsay are also 'sounding the horn,' to name just two more. (There are many others.)

(You might want to read Wilkerson's Perfect Peace post first. You'll see what I mean.) 

I can do that. The one-month supply of essentials, that is (keeping in mind that others will need help at that time, too) and eeking out a savings account and doing what I can around the house to make it as comforting and prepared-for-adversity a place as it can be.

And frankly? I appreciate and am comforted by being given something to do to prepare for possible hard times ahead. It's a struggle to sit and do nothing--and being found unprepared is even harder. Staying close to God and remaining as prepared in all ways as He directs--that's about all I can do.

And it will all be enough as long as He directs my steps. As long as He comforts my heart in the midst of any hard times ahead.


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Oh! I just now found this. Can it be that the government is finally "getting it" that they've spread too much fear lately?

"It is this transition from an excess of greed to an excess of fear that President Roosevelt had in mind when he famously observed that the only thing we had to fear was fear itself." .... Lawrence Summers



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"If you falter in times of trouble, how small is your strength!"... Proverbs 24:10


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Lately I watch the doom and gloom finance reports on tv and I watch people reacting to those reports and I watch myself and I think of that verse, above.

Yet as Monk says, "Here's the thing:"

... God is like a teacher who stands in a classroom always available to teach whoever sits in the desks before Him.

The problem? Most of us are always late to that classroom. Or we choose to skip class and go to the beach, instead. All those waves, all that sun and sand and fun.


But this one thing I know--God spies what's ahead and He enjoys telling us secrets of success, ones which will enable us to step through the hard times, prepared and ready for them. And because everything is pretty opposite in His way of thinking, maybe that's when the prepared people get to go to the beach--during the difficult times when everyone else is wishing they'd attended class while the secrets were passed from desk to desk (and are now scrambling to borrow their notes).

There's a time for the beach and there's a time for the classroom and blessed is he who knows the difference.






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For a delightful post I discovered yesterday about using your imagination in hard times, go here.

"Timing is everything."

Since the death of my friend some days ago, I've learned something important.

See, I was finding it odd and sad that after over 200 people read my post about losing her, only 6 left their condolences and just two online friends sent me an email sharing their concern.

Maybe I didn't say clearly enough how devastated I was. 

I'm not always good at sharing how I really feel about things, though I try to be transparent. But this time I needed to know people cared that I was hurting over the loss of my friend-- and that my world has changed forever. I can never write to her again or hear from her. She's gone and though I have other friends, no one else is her.

Yet here's what I'm thinking, too. Maybe I'm reaping what I have sown, for I want to say that I leave bereavement comments at blog posts at least three-fourths of the time, but maybe it's closer to half the time. It feels like more, but I'm trying to be honest today. In fact, I'll apologize to you now if you've written a bereavement post which I read, yet did not comment upon. I mean it--I'm sorry.

But this is what I know for certain--from now on, 100% of the time, I will leave a note when I read any post where someone has lost a relative, a friend or a pet. 100% of the time. 

And here is a secret. If you are worried about not knowing what to say, well, stop worrying. Because it doesn't even matter what you say. All I wanted to hear? I just wanted to hear, "I'm so sorry you lost your friend." Or, "I'll be praying you get through this." Or, "I'm sorry you are hurting right now."

That's all. 

I just wanted to know that people cared that I was aching inside. And too? That as somewhat of a teacher in this blog, I'd taught my readers to speak their kindnesses. 

And for those of you who took that time, I am more grateful than you will ever, ever know. Your simple words were like apples of gold in pitchers of silver and they were like a balm upon my wounded heart.

God put verses like those in the Bible for more reasons than we know.


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"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13

During my senior year of high school my gym teacher was Mrs. Gakle (pronounced Gay-klee). Mrs. Gakle definitely was the 'marching to a different drummer' type of person and I liked her. Cheerful in a way that some of my classmates called goofy, she was the only gym teacher I'd known who didn't wear a cranky mask. Only once do I recall her snapping at a group of girls, but they were acting snippy and deserved it. The rest of the time she flitted amongst us with joy and smiles, making each of us feel special for our abilities, however miniscule.

It was at this school where I earned my gold medal at a gymnastics meet in which both schools were so tiny and I was so average a gymnast (I couldn't even do a back handspring!). Yet Mrs. Gakle made me feel like Nadia Comăneci and Olga Korbut morphed into one. She gave all of us quiet nobodies, hope.

After graduation I went hundreds of miles away to college where I wrote probably 500 letters to folks out of extreme homesickness. I wrote to Mrs. Gakle and felt honored when her first letter arrived. College life was torturous for me, but Mrs. Gakle's letter cheered me and she praised my writing ability, making me feel like the next Emily Dickinson. (She was also an English teacher so I sent her my poems.) Thus began an intermittent exchanging of cards and letters which would last nearly 30 years.


I married that following November (I still have a serving bowl which Loana--as she signed her letters--gave us) and settled in that lovely mountain town where I'd graduated high school. Occasionally I'd spy Loana at the supermarket while wheeling my baby daughter around in the shopping cart and we'd chat a bit. She would tickle Naomi and make her laugh and once I discovered her in front of the dairy section where she exclaimed about how much she loved yogurt. From that day on, I loved yogurt, too.

When my daughter was four, I wrote to Loana and invited her to our home for lunch during her school lunch hour. Even today that boldness shocks me--I was a shy mouse who viewed teachers as Perfect People. But Loana accepted gladly and so I polished our new mobile home and set the table with the nicest of our wedding china. She brought me a sweet bouquet of flowers which I placed in a vase and we talked about our daughters (she ,too, had an only child, a daughter, age 12) and about the high school, but mostly about Life--what was good and right about it.


Tom and I bought a house in town and twice more I invited Loana to lunch. She always brought flowers and always our conversations made me feel unique. We'd speak of sowing good things in order to reap them and after her departures, a peaceful haze descended upon our rooms the remainder of the day.


Then Tom and I moved to Nevada, later New York, but Loana and I kept in-touch. Her Christmas cards were the photo kind, usually of her beautiful daughter and her enclosed letters described the exciting adventures she had alone, with a friend, or with her husband and Kathleen over the summers: visits to other states to meet with old friends or helping build houses for the needy or taking a dance class. She even traveled alone to New Mexico to snow ski and took a sailing class, later, where she almost got caught in the lines during her solo. She fed the wild animals in her yard, shoveled snow off her roof when necessary, sang in the community chorus and faithfully attended her church.

Always, she loved her job and the people she worked with now as a counselor, instead, first at the school where we'd met, later at two schools nearby (a difficult change at first, not her choice, but she wrote, "At any rate, I find out I love kids no matter where they go to school.")

Years passed (as they do) and Loana's daughter married a man with two small children and she was thrilled--instant grandmotherhood! And after 48 years in that school district, she retired. I still sent her Christmas cards and family letters, but I'd not heard from her the last few Decembers. Then a few months ago a friend from high school emailed me that Loana wasn't doing well physically so I sent her a card with an enclosed letter and wished her well and sent my prayers.

Yesterday I read on a hometown message board at Facebook that Loana passed away last week. I emailed my friend and she said, yes, sadly it was true.

It's hard to tell you how I feel... My memories of Loana are all happy ones, but I am sad. I wandered upstairs today and pulled out two faded hatboxes and searched for her old letters and read them. They were so alive! They read like old-fashioned books from the days when people were more into people rather than things. Every sentence rang with the vitality I think convinced me ages ago that Loana would always be here.... that she would always take those adventurous vacations, always be there for her daughter, her sister and her many friends, always be there in a community where everyone knew her and smiled when you mentioned her name.

The world is poorer now without Loana. Yet I think she'd want me and all who knew and loved her to take over for her--to carry joy around wherever we go, to never fear adventure and to enjoy living. To encourage those who feel invisible, to travel places, new and old, and to visit the people we love before they, too, leave us without another chance to share laughter and Life with them.


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Just a quick note, for Tom and I are heading out early to our former town for groceries and a quick stop at his job.

My sweet online buddy, Susan, emailed to see if we were ok after that terrible plane crash in our area last night and asked that I leave a note here in my blog.

And well, we are fine, just so saddened by the whole terrible thing. Clarence Center is twenty miles from us, though very near where Tom often sees doctors for his back. The tiny center of town there is like a walk back to the 1800's and it's in nearby Clarence where we like to go antiquing.

Good Morning America mentioned that Buffalo has a very small town, close-knit feel to it and indeed, it does. 

From Day One of our move here we felt that, and are still, 16 years later, touched by it. So this tragedy will be very hard on our whole community. Your prayers will be appreciated.

Life is so precious and so very fragile.



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I try to keep this blog upbeat. (Plug in 'Pollyanna' in my search box at the top left and scads of posts will pop up). But it's hard to be upbeat today and well, there is that 'weeping with those who weep' thing, after all.

I'm talking about the death yesterday of John and Kelly Travolta's 16-year-old son, Jett. This one hit me hard, which may sound odd, but stick with me.

Years ago I was channel surfing and landed upon the Montel Williams Show , the episode with Kelly (Preston) Travolta. She told how she and John had taken their 2-year-old son to the hospital after his having a seizure (I believe it was that). 

At first, the doctors were mystified, but eventually they diagnosed him with Kawasaki disease. They said he'd have to take seizure medication the rest of his life.

But I also remember Kelly saying that she, along with other parents of Kawasaki children, were given an extensive survey to fill-out, one designed to discover any possible causes of this disease. The only thing all the survey results had in common? Each of the households had used carpet cleaning services-- I believe both professional and the type you rent from stores, yourself. That was it, the only common factor.

Kelly said she felt so guilty that she'd been such a clean freak after her baby arrived and how, now, because of that, her son would have to take medication forever. And how this could affect the types of jobs he held as an adult, as well, and who knew what else?

I felt horrible for her. I vowed never to use carpet cleaners again (not chemical-laden ones, anyway) and renewed my efforts to keep using baking soda and vinegar as household cleaners. In fact, Kelly was, at that time, traveling around the Country, spreading the word about chemical dangers in the home, advertising a line of natural cleaners as well. Soon after, she appeared on Oprah for that reason.

I told Naomi about that episode of Montel and the carpet cleaning solution thing and, about a year later, she called me from her job to remind her of the details because a co-worker planned on having her rugs cleaned and she had small children. I also told a few other people, but well, you know, that sort of thing can go either way. You find some people who take you seriously and then there are others who say, "My mother had her carpets cleaned, like, every week and look how I turned out. I'm fine!"

But whichever type of person you may be, I'm just saying--because I feel I must--please take chemicals seriously. Try to use as few as possible in your home, especially around children. Especially around yourself or anyone else you may care about.



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Read the article about the Travoltas' son here.

Please pray along with me that this couple will turn to Jesus at this devastating time for the comfort only He can give.


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