What? Friday Already?

Where did this week go? I was at an out of town cross country meet yesterday afternoon, but home all morning. Most of today I did laundry and worked on writing for my class. I do mean work, too. I finished the assignment tonight, but still have some exercises to do. The instructor set the scene of a baseball game which included a single mom, her six year old son who is the catcher, a close score, and a helicopter reporting on an accident on the adjacent freeway. The mom had a name, so did the boy. We had to write a paragraph in the first person point of view where I am one of the people in the story and am telling it. Then I had to write it in the third person(he, she, they) I am the narrator and not a character of the story, but know what the character I am talking about is thinking and feeling. Then I had to write it as if I were a camera taking it all in--just the facts, maam. As if that weren't enough, the instructor, Ann is her name, set the scene of a woman named Martha who is waiting for the bus on a stormy winter night. As she gets on the bus, her ex-husband gets off. We had to write several paragraphs about this setting, but each from a distance. We started off in Martha's head and what she was feeling (up close). Then we moved a little further off and wrote as Martha again, but instead of her feelings, her observations.(not quite as close) Last of all we wrote about the scene from above it all, comparing it to similar experiences we might have had. (far off) And these were only the exercises.

The assignment was also about Martha. We had to chose a point of view, a tense, and how close we were. Then we had to write a five sentence paragraph using what we had chosen. I will post mine below if anyone wants to read it.

This entire lesson was hard, especially when I had to express the emotions and feelings of the strangers I supposedly knew intimately. Writing as an observer was much easier. One thing I discovered was I kept writing from pain, not joy. Got to work on that.

I am taking my laptop into the shop tomorrow. It is doing crazy things. Thought I had better get it checked out before it crashes. So, there will probably not be any blogs for a few days. Hope everyone has a great weekend. We have a flood warning for the rivers around here because of the expected heavy rains. We'll see how accurate the weather people are this time around.

So, I'm shutting down and going off to sleep in my freshly made bed, a granddaughter is sleeping on my couch, and a pregnant cat naps under my house, or as my granddaughter says, a cat about to have children.

Be blessed,
Jan

Assignment 4

First person point of view
Present tense
Close location

Martha?

"Jack Frost nipping at my toes" I sing to myself as I slowly turn into an icicle, but nothing is going to stop me from enjoying the snow I love. At least that is what I think until the bus glides to a stop and the warm air from the opened door hits me in the face. Looking up the steps and into my purse at the same time, I don't see him, but he has already seen me. "Martha?" he asked in amazement as I push by and he steps out the closing doors. Tears fill my eyes, not from cold but from pain, as I recall that night so long ago and the word he whispered as he heard me say I wanted out of our marriage,"Martha?"  

TooTired to Finish This

The e-mail I opened yesterday afternoon asked if I would be willing to share during this morning's Bible study. Loving Beyond Yourself was the topic for the day.  Isolation, depression, sorrow & grief, brokenness, and self-centeredness were areas of discussion. They are obstacles we need to overcome if we want to freely love others. I could choose any area I wanted to speak on. Brokenness called my name. I answered.

After mulling over a few ideas, I decided to get up early this morning and head into McDonalds to finish thinking, put some notes down on paper, then time what I wanted to share. The challenge was keeping the presentation to ten minutes. To make a long story short, I didn't get up early, I didn't go to McDonalds, but I did finish thinking, putting notes down on paper and timing what I wanted to share. Fifteen minutes, ooops, time to edit.

My prayer through all this was, "Lord, show me what to say about my own brokenness and how you have been helping me overcome it so I can once again love others. Give me something that will touch the heart of at least one person. Amen."

Several thoughts that were new to me rose to the surface. I shared them because I thought they were relevant. Other thoughts that have been with me from the beginning were also shared. I have decided to share a few of them here.

First of all, when something I love gets cracked, chipped or broken, I do all I can to put it back together again. Likewise, when something of great value, such as a Ming vase, is broken, experts do all they can to restore it. That is the way God is with us. Each of us is of great value and we are loved. God does all we will allow him to do in restoring us. We aren't thrown on the trash heap.

In addition, I shared about moving from the "poor me" mind set to the "God didn't put me here for me, but for Him" mindset. In has been a slow process of listening to the Spirit speak through scripture, sermons, music, journaling, conversations with family and friends, and observing life around me.

(I'm not sure where I want to go from here or how to get there. My body is tired and my mind muddled. I have more to share, and much editing to do, but for now, I just want to go to bed. Please try to make some sense of what I've written so far. Much of what I shared, I have posted in previous entries. Tomorrow is a new day. Let's see what it brings.)

By the way, several ladies talked to me after the Bible study and thanked me for the encouragement they got from what I shared. Thank you, Lord.

Have a great night.
Jan
 

Loss Again

After more than a year in therapy learning to get in touch with my emotions, I just spent the past month refusing to face the emotions that today would bring. I didn't want to think about the upcoming separation, so I didn't. This may seem silly to some, but others will understand what I am talking about. Ready?

My hair stylist just fixed my hair for the very last time. Once every six weeks for 35 years we have met and she has transform a disheveled, shabby me into a chic, classic new me. Now, after all those years of trimming me up, changing styles as my hair has gotten grayer and thinner, and occasionally waxing my brows and chin she is moving away. Having to find someone else to do my hair isn't the problem because my appointments weren't just about getting my hair done. They were about developing a friendship. As we got to know each other, we began sharing the ups and downs of rearing kids, playing with grand-kids, and taking vacations. We shared hurts and joys, hopes and dreams. We not only encouraged and rejoiced with each other, we also shared our faith. Today we said goodbye and tried to hold back tears. I'll miss her.

Although we never did lunch, went to coffee, called, or sent texts, we were friends, better friends than I had realized until I started thinking about her leaving. As friends always do, we told each other we would keep in touch. Will we? I hope so. But life has a way of interfering with the best laid plans. She and her husband are opening a Bread and Breakfast with her sisters and their families. They are excited. I am spending more and more time writing, not leaving my chair for hours on end. I am excited. New adventures lay ahead for each of us. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but pray for the best for each other. Our Lord has plans.

Not wanting to feel loss again, but I do,
Jan

Thoughts of Rain, Plus Her Blackness (A Bonus)

Getting up close and personal to waterfalls makes my heart beat fast and my knees feel weak. The cool spray, though refreshing, causes my brain to say, "You're too close, too close, move back!"  But today, with a calmly beating heart, I stood on strong, straight legs and watched in amazement as fresh water cascaded from above. Clear as glass in some places and opaque and foamy in others, it plunged to the ground as spray rose up. I wanted to leaned with outstretched arms and feel is power strike my fingertips, but fear overcame desire. Falling out my bedroom window into a muddy flowerbed wouldn't have been life threatening, but it certainly would have been disastrously messy. I'll just watch for now.

I needn't watch for long. The deluge of rain overflowing the gutters slowed to drips in a matter of minutes, then quite altogether. The gutters were once again able to control the flow; and the shrubs below the eaves rejoiced in their nice drink of water. The sun now shines and the temperature rises, but more Days-of-Noah rain are on their way. Aaaah, Fall has arrived with the wonderful smell of rain.

That is my descriptive writing for this morning.

As I wrote that last sentence, I reached for my cup of hot coffee with hazelnut creamer and took a sip (almost burned my tongue, I did.) I love an occasional cup of coffee, especially in the rain.

Where was Her Blackness in this downpour? Her Blackness=feral cat=mother-to-be. That's right. The once-skinny, pretty, black kitty with a huge appetite is pregnant. At least that is what it looked liked to me a few days ago. Since I didn't want to accept my observations as reality, I asked myself, "What do I know about cats anyway? She probably just ate a mouse...or two...or more"

Well, Sunday evening came around and so did my daughter-in-law. I had been waiting for her to come pick apples. I watched her work for awhile. A yellow plastic bag sat on the ground. She wore bright blue tennis shoes, dark sweat pants, and a red, hooded rain-jacket. With her arms held high, she reached for the yellow apples (I have no idea what kind they are) with a blue-tined  rake. I loved the colors.

She heard me open the door and started talking before she saw me. "I saw your kitty and gave her a little food. Hope that was okay. She seemed really hungry, and friendly. Looks like she is pregnant."

Thanks daughter-in-law. That is just what I didn't want to hear.

So now I have a dilemma. She sleeps under my house (Her Blackness, not my daughter-in-law) and that isn't where I want a litter of kittens residing. (The occasional raccoon and possum that come around at night won't mix well with cat and kittens.)  I know she sleeps under my house because she starts talking to me as soon as she hears my footsteps in the morning. Her muffled little meows greet me from below as I walk around the kitchen above. When I finally open the front door while holding her food dish and call out, "Here kitty, kitty." she comes around the corner of the house within seconds, jumps onto the porch,and stands on her hind legs hoping her head will reach my fingers. She loves being petted. "Dang." I think she is growing on me.

What to do? What to do?

Help, Lord. Now that Her Blackness trusts me, gets some nourishment from my hand, and loves being loved, I can't cast her away because she is pregnant. Some people might say, "She is only a cat, Jan." I know that, but she is also one of your creatures that I have allowed into my life. What, what, what is the right thing to do? Do I let her in (she will come, at least she did this morning ) or let nature take its course? And then, Lord, there is always the possibility she is your provision for the long, dark, winter days ahead? I just don't know. Please send me a text with further instructions. My number is...Oh, silly me, you know what it is. Amen

I guess I sort of asked for this when Her Blackness and I first started talking in the blackberry patch.

Jan

What I Think When I Think

Ooops! I did so much writing for my class this morning that I thought I had written something for the blog. WRONG. If my writing had been for the blog, you would have read a description of the room I write in, not merely a physical description, but also an emotional one. Then I had to chose four items in my physical description and free write about them--just let my mind go.

If you had read those, you would have journeyed with glass bottles as they flounder in the ocean until they end up as bits of smooth-edged glass in a re-purposed vinegar bottle--no longer what they originally were, but still things of beauty. You would have wondered with me about the ancient, from the beginning of time, agates and stones I keep in a clear salt shaker. What native children have thrown them? What surfers have run across them?  What tsunamis have thrown them inland? I wonder.

My Blue Piggy Bank was the next victim. Oh, the money it has held and where it was spent brought back fond memories of Hawaii as well as the Elementary School Penny Drive.

The fourth and last item was my messily made bed that needed its sheets changed, its dust ruffle mended, and its nightstand dusted. Will the housework ever end?

After all that, I still wasn't finished. Those were just the exercises leading up to the actual assignment. "Light a candle" the instructions began. We were to then describe the candle in ways that would draw the reader into the mood we were feeling or into a mood the candle created. We wanted them to experience the lit candle with us. That was an interesting process.

When I finished with all this work, I was so thankful for the year and one-half I spent in therapy. This may sound silly, but if I hadn't been forced into finding my feelings, this lesson would have been terribly difficult. I clearly remember the day Dr. B. asked me what I felt or thought when I drove to the prison to visit my husband.. I had no idea. What did I feel or think on the way home? This is crazy. Here is the answer I finally gave. "I feel the same thing I feel when I go to the grocery store, nothing."

It took me months of consciously thinking about what I was thinking until I could easily answer those types of questions. Back to the candle assignment. I had little trouble putting into words what I was thinking because I was aware of my thoughts.  Here is what I wrote.:

A Lighted Candle
At first glance the candle gracing my table seems regal. Its height and straightness are impressive, and there is a hint of nose-in-the air haughtiness at its tip. It allows only a bit of golden light to enhance the table below. Though merely wax, it considers itself all powerful—a dispeller of darkness, one to be worshipped. But I won't be deluded by what I see. Though tall and straight on its own, it leans away from its silver holder. The melting wax, instead of cooling as it courses down the candle’s sides, falls like tears onto the gleaming oaken surface beneath it. The light moves back and forth with every unseen breath of air. I watch the flame struggle to remain upright as it fights a losing battle. I can clearly see that my tall, leaning, weeping candle is not haughty, nor is it regal and all powerful. It is a lowly wick-containing stick of wax struggling to bring light and hope into my darkened room. Burn on, lowly one, burn on. You are doing well. 

I have since made a note on what I wrote. "Haughtiness and pride must be thrown away when one struggles.A fight against the gusts blowing our way cannot be fought while we are trying to put on an air of  'all is well in my world'." Now, as an added thought, (see, I am thinking about what I am thinking) Though our fire for the Lord may be bright and strong, I am thankful that Jesus can shield us from the stormy blasts that try to blow it out. When the going gets too rough, he wants to  hide us under his wings just as he did Jerusalem.

 How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing! Matthew 23:37b

With that final thought, I'm off to house sit my son's dogs and cats tonight, then heading off to an out of town cross county meet with my daughter tomorrow. It will probably be Monday before I post again. 

Have a great weekend, a God weekend

Jan

Surprised by Surprise

I am always surprised that life surprises me. Take yesterday for example. I completed the first lesson of my on-line writers class, then submitted my assignment which was a paragraph of introduction for the Discussion Room. That was easy enough. All that was left to do was read what other classmates had written about themselves and add comments if so desired. Fair enough.

The next hour sped by as I met complete strangers through their own words. I was taken by surprise as I discovered such a diverse mix. They are soccer moms, commuting dads, librarians, and public relations folks. They are lovers of books, words, nature, and people. They are busy, funny, anxious, questioning, and coming out of dark places. They are from dozens of states and several other countries. Although each one of us of is unique in our own way, we have one commonality, the desire to explore the world of writing and improve whatever skills we have.

I don't know why I was surprised by what I found in the Discussion Room. I think I expected us students to be just a handful of seeking people from the Pacific Northwest. But here is the curious thing. I was surprised about being surprised.

Surprise--to take unexpectedly, according to Webster. Yup. That is how God works in my life. I should know that whenever He opens a door, such as the one leading into this class, that whatever is on the other side will be unexpected. What He has in store for me is more that I can imagine. (Sort of sounds like Ephesians 3:20 doesn't it) So, as the next six weeks proceed, I really should expect  God to have surprises for me. Buuuuuuttt, if I expect the unexpected, is it still unexpected?

This kind of thinking is too complicated for my finite brain. I guess I will just have to venture on with my newly found friends on our trip through cyberspace while enjoying cups of virtual coffee  together. I'll celebrate the surprises when they come. And if they don't come? I'll be surprised.

Welcome aboard,
Jan

A Thought From Today's Bible Study & Beyond

It has finally arrived--the first day of my writers class! I've learned two things already. First off, I love getting into my school clothes. Sweatshirt, jammie bottoms, and bare feet are all part of my back-to-school fashion statement for this class. Secondly, my California granddaughter suggested in a facebook post that I celebrate this big occasion with some ice cream. Duh! What was I ever thinking when I drove right through town an hour ago without stopping. Obviously, I wasn't thinking at all. Just so I don't forget to treat myself the next time I go to town, I am going to put a sticky note that reads "ICE CREAM" in the middle of my steering wheel. I glad I now have several days to decide what kind(s) of cold delight I want/desire/need.

So much for trivia.

Last Wednesday my church's Women's Bible study, Practically Speaking, started. It deals with the everyday in and outs, and ups and downs of living out our faith. Today we talked about the older women teaching the younger women. (Titus 2:1-15 & 2 Timothy 2:11-26) One of the points I really liked was made by a young mother who said that being invited to someone's home for coffee and seeing the gift of hospitality ministered with love, humility, and humor while the home and yard were in disarray spoke volumes to her. Their time together wasn't about nice furniture, lovely drapes, china cups, and weed-free flower beds. It was about relationship and conversation. What this young woman learned from an older woman wasn't taught in a class or small group, it was shown through thoughtful, Christlike actions. Good stuff!

Next week's lesson is sort of a continuation. It is called Living Beyond Yourself. Stay tuned, I might have something else to share.

After I sign off on this post, I am going to "hit the books" so to speak. My class assignment deals with free writing. Soooooo, for five minutes I have to write whatever pops into my mind. The idea is to not let my fingers stop typing during that entire time. If I have no idea what to write next, I write that I have no idea what to write next. I cannot correct spelling, punctuation, grammar, or anything else--I just write. When that is done, I have to spend one minute writing about whatever I am hearing or not hearing, then another minute about what I am seeing or have an awareness of. This should be an interesting exercise.

Since my mind is going around in circles with thoughts of missed ice cream, inviting women over for coffee, and analyzing the source of all the detritus (fancy word I've always wanted to use instead of debris) on the floor, I am really curious what I will end up writing. Who knows, I might get brave enough to reveal my jump down-turn around-pick a bale of cotton thinking to all of you. Get prepared.

Lord, I really don't care whether or not my thoughts make sense to a reader, just let them make sense to me. Amen.
Jan

What is A Typical Day?

Tuesday, September 17, 2013. 58 degrees F, slight breeze, blue sky to the north and clouds to the south. It is a typical day in the Pacific Northwest as far as the weather goes. Will it be a typical "do what I want to do when I want to do it like I've always done it" type of day in my personal life? That is the question for today.

That question has been running through my mind ever since I looked out my bedroom door at my new steps this morning. Here is where I am coming from. I have double French doors leading from my bedroom into the back section of my property. That exit provides the closest access to my apple trees. Just around the corner is a quiet sitting area that used to contain my hot tub. It is the quickest path to change sprinklers on the back lawn. But, for the past umpteen years I have not used those doors because the steps had rotted away and been hauled off.

Rot is a big problem around here. The old steps had been built of untreated lumber and were sitting directly on the ground. So, with the deadly mixture of 70 inches of rain a year and constantly wet soil, my wooden, untreated steps were gone.

Admitting that apples have fallen to the ground, warm days in a lounge chair have not been enjoyed, and grass, trees and shrubs have gone unwatered because of non-existing steps is a travesty. My excuse is the lack of steps. The truth is laziness. I haven't wanted to walk all the way around the house to pick, laze, or water.

Last weekend my son removed all my excuses by building new steps for me. Every piece of wood used in the construction is pressure treated against moisture. Those beautiful steps should last a lifetime.

I am excited about how convenient they are, the opportunities they present, and the easy access to the outdoors they provide. There are new arena's to enjoy. I really don't want to miss out, but it will take work on my part. I will have to press beyond my old typical day. If I never set foot on them, they are worth nothing. If they don't bring about a change in my daily living, my son's hours of labor were for naught.

Now, let's go back to the question about a typical day. At one time, I might have considered my typical day as living in a rut--doing the same old-same old, accomplishing nothing. I was living in excuses as well as in semi-seclusion. That was all because I had let the steps of my heart which led to the outside world develop rot and become, as I saw them,  unusable. Anger, hurt, fear, distrust, and who-knows-what-else slowly ate away at everything I had once held dear. Thankfully, those steps had not completely rotted away before I recognized the problem and the fact that they needed replacing.

I have new steps now. Through prayer, therapy, support of family, and the work of the Master Carpenter the steps going from my heart to those around me are pressure treated and will stand up under the most severe conditions. All I have to do is use them. But, if nothing changes, if today's "typical" is the same as last year's "typical", God's work on my life-steps was for naught.

So, how is today's typical day different from five years ago? I have gone from treatment in the ICU of my mind with the Great Physician, to discovery of and replacement of rotten steps, to stepping tentatively onto a steady footing with the Lord, and into the awaiting world.

As I was writing the previous paragraph and thanking the Lord for all he has done, these verse kept coming to mind. Is this what a typical day with the Lord looks like?

"In all your ways acknowledge Him. And He shall direct your path."  Proverbs 3:6

"He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:30-31

Lord, I know I am not immune to rot and decay. My rotting steps were clear evidence of that. As for my foundation, I think it is in good shape, but only you know for sure. I want to recognize any rot or other situations that weaken who I am or my relationship with you. Show me the bad that needs fixing, the rot that needs to be torn out, and strengthen me to undergo reconstruction no matter how painful it might be. 

I desire to love you with all I have and all I am. May I acknowledging You in all things (the good and the bad). Help me walk the path You have shown me as well as see the good You point out along the way. Let me act justly and with mercy toward all I meet and in all I say. May I love my neighbor as myself. And Lord, please remove any pride I have so that I may walk humbly with You.  Amen

Wanting the Lord's typical day, not mine,
Jan

Only Two More Days

Only two more days until a new adventure begins. Two more days until I face new challenges. Two more days until my first on-line writing class begins. And I am anxious. Not anxious as in excited and can hardly wait, but anxious as in nervous and second guessing myself. What in the world have I done to my life as I know it?

Signing up for the class was the right decision. I am certain of that, but it thrusts me into an arena that is foreign to me. Why I think that, I don't know. I have been writing this blog for one and one half years now, so writing is not foreign. Being instructed is the part I am unfamiliar with. It has been over twenty years since I sat in a classroom.

Twenty years ago is when I went back to school just because I wanted to. Well, that was sort of the reason. Actually, I was beginning to see more and more obituaries for people in their fifties, and realized if my husband died, I had no job training to fall back on. I was just a mom with three teenagers. It had been years since I had been a pre-med student at the University of Oregon. With two years of college behind me, I could dissect a fetal pig, a cat, and a dogfish shark. I could identify different embryos by examining their colorfully stained slides. I could understand and read a little bit of German. AND I could reload the milk machine in the college dining room where I worked. That was all I had to offer the work-a-day-world.

Feeling that more schooling was needed, I enrolled at a local community college. The anxiety I felt then was much more intense that what I am feeling today. In those days, I was nervous about many things, although I didn't let anyone know what I was feeling. First off, I was nervous about taking math and English placement tests. Would I end up in remedial classes? I hoped not. I didn't.

The idea of a regular algebra class didn't bother me since I loved math, but English was another story. With math, your answers are either right or wrong. There is no way my interpretation of 3 + 4 will give me any answer but 7. Algebra 101 would pose no problem, Now writing an essay explaining how to do something is, in my mind, filled with booby traps. Choosing the best nouns and verbs, adjectives and adverbs, and verb tenses had me shaking in my boots. Could I write well enough to pass the class? Only time would tell.

Accounting and Biology classes also didn't pose much of a threat to me either, but Anthropology was somewhat scary. Let's talk about scary for a minute. Scary was realizing my 50 plus year old brain would be in the same classrooms with teens and twenty year old students--youth vs middle age. Well, let me tell you this. There was no competition. The wisdom and maturity of age left youth in the dust. A few weeks of school left anxiety in the dust. I loved every minute in the classroom. I loved studying for and taking the tests. Even doing research for my Anthropology paper on the Mound Builders  of the central U.S. was great fun.

And the class I dreaded the most--English 101? The very first paper I wrote, an in-class essay, came back covered with red ink and a big, ugly, staring-me-in-the-face C minus!  Not a plain old C. Not a C plus. It was a C minus. I had never in my life gotten a C in anything. I was shocked. How in the world could that have happened?

As I sat in my desk, on the verge of tears, the instructor said words that changed everything. "As long as any of you are willing to rewrite, I am willing to re-read and re-grade. Thus our journey began. With every paper I wrote, I ultimately rewrote, edited and re-edited as the instructor read, re-read, and re-graded until an A plus was achieved.  When the quarter ended, I realized that, surprisingly, English 101 was my favorite class. It was the one I worked the hardest in, and learned the most from.

So why am I now anxious about a beginning writing class? Part of it is not having a professor I see, hear, and talk to. Everything will be through electronic lessons and assignments, electronic questions and answers. Two more days. Two more days until I face the music--new music, different music. I hope I can still dance.

Trusting the Lord in this new adventure,
Jan

Early Morning Reveille

Lord, why in the world was I awake at 4 o'clock this morning?

It isn't the waking up that bothers me, it is lying in bed and not falling back to sleep that I'm not too happy about. Is there something or someone I am supposed to pray about or for? Nothing is impressed on my mind. Am I supposed to get up and do something constructive like sweep a floor? I don't thiiiinnnk so.

Well, it is now 5:30. I've been up for half an hour and done some constructive chores like replacing the burned out light bulb in the lamp by my chair, putting away some towels I folded last night, and making my bed.

I may be up, but my weekend company is sleeping, so I will be as quiet as a little mouse and try to write this post. Even though my eyes are open and my brain functioning to some extent, my ten litte (little) fingers are still very much in sleepy-time mode when it comes to the art of fine motor skills. My laptop's backspace and delete keys have gotten a strenuous workout so far this morning. If I were to run around the room after every backspace or deletion, I would be gasping for breath and wiping sweat off my brow by now. (Pause for a moment of reflection) Not only would I be maxed out on my cardio/respiratory rates, I would still be typing the first paragraph.

I am also getting quite hungry. Not wanting my growling stomach to waken my guests, I will now sneak into the kitchen, grab a slice of cold pizza left over from last night's supper, and make my tuppy--oops, I mean timmy...(For crying out loud! I mean tummy.) I want to make my tummy happy. I want it to help me celebrate this still-dark morning while my brain and fingers slumber away.

Oh no! Either my growling stomach or snoring fingers have roused my son. He is now in the kitchen grinding up some coffee beans. Hooray for the soon-to-be-served beverage! I just hope he doesn't beat me to the pizza.

Now, it's time to get this day underway. Some home maintenance projects are on the agenda as is a cross country meet and yard work. Before getting started, we will toast up a couple bagels, spread on some cream cheese, top with sliced ham, and wash them down with some coffee, orange juice and conversation.

Thank you, Lord, for this promise-filled day. I ask for safe travel for my son as he goes to town for building supplies, for safety when my daughter-in-law and I  tackle projects in the yard and the house, and for a successful cross country meet. May all the meet helpers remember to show up at the school, may all the runners perform to the best of their abilities, and may the mosquitoes stay away. 

I still don't know why I was awake at 4 a.m., Lord, but now it is almost 8 and I am ready to go back to sleep while all is quiet. Please let me get a little more rest. 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz,
Jan

Being Continued

No grazing deer, no pecking flickers, no meowing little black cat, no raucous crows--where is everyone this morning? It is so quiet around here. At least Bibi the parrot is talking through my laptop, asking for her usual berries, tortillas, and fish, while saying she is so sweet.

The silence is good for me. I can stay focused better. Focused is what I need to be now. I have challenged myself to write on my book or whatever it is from 8:30 to noon everyday. I just wish the words came more easily. I wish the verb tenses were easier. Do I say, "I sat" or "I was sitting", or "I had been sitting" or "I had sat"? Each is a little different in meaning. What in the world do I want to say? What is strongest? What is best? I hope my writing class that begins next week will help me in this area.

Then there is arranging and rearranging sentences within paragraphs. There is adding words and sentences for clarity. There is removing unnecessary sentences. It is a slow process.

I am probably making it slower and more difficult than necessary. I have read where one should just start writing and not look back until several pages are complete. Only then should any editing take place. For some unexplained reason, I edit after every paragraph. I not only edit the just completed paragraph, I then also edit and re-edit everything up to that point. Talk about slow progress! Let's not.

I am so thankful that I have an indwelling Editor. I just have to remember to constantly check with him as I write. I need to be constantly in touch because it is his story I am writing. It is not about me. It is not about my husband. It is not about the victims. It is about our loving, faithful God who is working wonders in the midst of a tragic situation. I can hardly wait to find out how the story ends.

If the truth be known, none of us will ever know how the story ends because what has happened over the past years influences not only our immediate family and friends, but also the generations to come. We must be faithful witnesses to God's mercy and grace, judgement and justice. This story, as I write it, will end with this phrase, "being continued."

Living with Christ in a never ending adventure,
Jan

Little To Do About Something

Headaches are no fun, especially when they hang around for several days. The one visiting me at the present time isn't vicious like some migraines I have had in the distant past.This one consists of some discomfort in my right temple, and my neck being a little tight, but nothing I can really classify as pain. I'm not even sure when it arrived--Monday afternoon I think it was. But now it is Wednesday. Ignoring it and calling it an annoyance is not working for me, so I have finally resorted to drug use, if you can call aspirin a drug.

Now, as I wait, I will write a post of some sort about something or other.

WOW!  A flock of at least twenty red-shafted flickers just flew into a tree outside my window. These medium sized birds are ground feeding woodpeckers. I love watching them probe my yard for whatever juicy morsels they can find, but I have never seen a large group before. There are usually only one or two at a time hanging out around here. That was awesome. Come on down, birdies, and dine on whatever ants, beetles and grubs my yard has to offer. Take all you want.

 Well, folks, an hour has passed and my headache is gone. During that time, I have been on the internet checking out flickers. I have seen their mating ritual and I heard their song. I've seen them fly, and rat-a-tat on metal roofs. I've watched them hollow out tree trunks for their nests and feed their young. God certainly created some beautiful, amazing, wonderful birds when he made flickers.

Also during the past hour, the blue, sunny sky has disappeared behind a cloud cover. The wind is picking up and the temperature is falling. I guess it is time to go out and finish mowing my yard while it is cool (60 degrees) and my headache is gone. I mowed the field half of my paradise on Monday.

That mowing job was quite the adventure--not because I was riding the mower, but because of all the animal scat around the yard. I have never seen so much. The deer scat was everywhere. That was to be expected because they love hanging out in the field, under the firs, and around the apple trees. But, there were numerous places where I mowed over "stuff" that was definitely not from the deer. I am more convinced than ever that bear have been visiting and helping themselves to my apples and blackberries.

Since I told the flickers they could have all the ants, beetles, and grubs they wanted, I certainly won't try to stop the bear from eating the smorgasbord my yard offers. I just don't want them pulling a reverse Goldilocks routine on me. No baby bears sleeping in my bed, please, even if it is just right as far as comfort goes.

God is so good. What started out as a so-so day, has ended up being a real blessing. That is the way God is--good and blessing richly.

Loving it,
Jan

Conned by A Cat

I first noticed her this spring while I was cutting blackberry canes on the back of the barn. The sound was quite soft at first, then became a much louder "Meow". Spotting her wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do since she was jet black from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. Not even her chest or paws had any white on them. But there she was, somewhere in the recesses of the berries, talking to me in a most friendly manner.

"Meow'" I answered back.

After a short conversation in my best Felinese, I finally saw her. She was just sitting there in the sunless depth of the brambles, that little black cat, scrawny, yet verbal. She seemed friendly enough, but any movement I made startled her, causing her to jump and move away from me. We soon reached a mutual agreement. We would ignore each other's presence, but still talk. So the morning passed in a most pleasant manner.

As the months passed, I discovered she often slept under my porch, walked across the hood of my car, and slept on top of the recycle bin. Always greeting me with a happy purr-meow whenever she saw me, she still would run off if I tried approaching her, but not as quickly.

Then came the day I realized a mouse had gained entry to my house--droppings on my kitchen counter when I got up in the morning, and an actual sighting as it scurried across a window seat in the evening. That is when I decided I wanted the little, black, feral cat to stay around my house as much as possible. So I bought some cat food.

I didn't feed her much food since I want her to continue surviving off the land. It seemed to be working. She came to my door every couple days and greeted me with a very polite, "Meow". Yesterday she finally let me pet her, but was still very skittish. She rubbed against my legs, but jumped when I coughed.

Now today, she ran to greet me when I came home from town. She meowed and purred, rubbed against my leg, then waited by the door for me to give her a handful of food.

I think I have just been conned by a cat, but at least I haven't had any more signs of a mouse in my house.

Getting ready for a great afternoon on the mower with the Lord.
Jan

Not Anticlimactic for Big Dog

3:00 p.m. The air was still. Not a leaf, not a blade of grass, not a pine needle moved. Calmness smothered me as I stood on the porch looking for the rain to come. Nothing gave any indication of the anticipated storm. Nothing.

4:00 p.m. I heard rumbling in the distance. Was it trucks or thunder? I couldn't tell. There were no flashes of light, no loud cracks or earsplitting crashes. There was only the distant rumble of something.

5:00 p.m. It was definitely thunder I heard, low rumblings every few minutes. A storm was on its way. I waited for the sky to open up and wring out its clouds on my house. Come on rain.

6:00 p.m. Distant thunder was still noticeable, but the moisture falling on my roof certainly wasn't what I was looking for. I don't think we got even 0.10 inches of rain. In fact, according to this old housewife's method of measuring, the cake pan on my deck collected 4 1/2 tablespoons of water.

By 8:00 p.m. everything was over, and I was disappointed. If there is going to be thunder, let it crack, pop, and cause me to cover my ears. If there is going to be rain, let it run down the windows and shoot out the ends of the gutters. If there is going to be wind, let the tree branches dance with abandon. How anticlimactic those six hours were...at least for me they were anticlimactic.

Around 8:30 p.m. the phone rang. "Mom, did Big Dog make it to your house? The thunder must have scared her off. We've looked all over, called and called, but there is no sign of her. Did she come over there?"

She had done that very thing on two other occasions. Both of them on the Fourth of July.

"Let me check. I didn't hear any scratching at the door, but she might be here. Just a minute... Sorry, I called her a couple times, but she doesn't seem to be around."

"Okay, thought I'd check. We'll keep looking."

9:00 p.m. my son and granddaughter ring my doorbell. They had driven over looking for Big Dog. Maybe they would see her running down the highway. Maybe she had been hit by a car. No dog anywhere. As they drove back toward home I could hear my granddaughter yelling out the open car window, "Big Dog, Big Dog. Here girl."

For the next two hours I kept checking my front porch for any signs of that sweetheart of a pooch. Each time, I saw no footprints, I saw no mud, I saw no dog. I was extremely sad. "Lord, keep her safe." I prayed as I climbed into bed.

Before falling asleep I could picture her running frantically through the ferns, and the blackberries, and the thick fir trees trying to escape the noise closing in on her. I could feel the panic she must have felt with each thunder rumble during those hours of the storm. I hoped she hadn't tried to swim the river as she had done in the past. But where was she? Was she safe?

I checked my porch at 1:30 a.m. No dog. I checked at 4:30. No dog. I checked at 6:30. still no dog. Around 11 a.m. my son called with a question. I didn't let him finish. "Did Big Dog ever show up?" I blurted out.

"Oh yeah, she did. There was no sign of her when I went to bed around 11, but she was home this morning. She was covered with mud, and very tired, but she is safe." I was relieved.

So, what was an anticlimactic, so-called storm to me, was a fear and panic filled afternoon and night for a sweet, gentle family pet. I still feel so bad for her. Next time thunder is forecast during my kids working hours, I will go sit with Big Dog. To be more accurate, I'll let Big Dog sit with me, with her head on my lap and her sad, questioning eyes looking in my face. "Don't worry, girl, I'm right here with you."

That is what God did for me when I was fearful and in near-panic mode five years ago. He held me and said, "Don't worry, girl, I'm right here with you."

Celebrating Big Dog's return,
Jan

Hoping For a Storm

"New Post" the orange rectangle on the top of the page says. Once I click on it, I have to commit to writing something--at least I feel I have to commit. So, I finally clicked on the rectangle, and now sit staring at a blank screen.  Not only is my screen blank, my mind is blank also. I have nothing to say, but I have committed myself to New Post. Here goes.

The weatherman-woman-forecaster person said we have a big storm coming in this afternoon complete with heavy rain and lightning. I love the noise of a good electrical storm. The sounds of rain pelting the roof and whooshing through the gutters, the reverberation of thunder as the booms grow in intensity, and the moans and groans of windblown trees are exciting.

Exciting is all well and good, but storms can also be extremely dangerous. Flood alerts have been issued for low lying areas along our many rivers and streams. Forest fires are always a concern during a dry period like we have experienced this summer, and downed trees can block roads, knock down power lines, and damage homes. These are all possibilities for today and tomorrow. But where is the storm?

It is now 2:40 pm and the sky, though cloudy, is quite bright. There is no wind. The Doppler Radar doesn't show much of anything right now. At least the barometer is falling. So I wait for something that is expected, but not yet realized. My anticipation is high. I really hope for several inches of rain punctuated with rolls of thunder. I do.

But anticipation will not make it so. I know that weatherman-woman-forecaster persons are not always right, therefore I don't have complete faith in them. I have to face the fact that the storm might not come this way no matter how much I hope it will.

Thankfully, I can have faith in all that the Lord tells me and promises me--even when I cannot see any evidence of it at the present time. Hebrews 11:1 says

Now faith is assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen.

American Standard Version

Yes, I question the weather forecasters' predictions. I know they are often wrong because I experience it week after week. I also question God at times, but not because he is ever wrong. I question because I don't often understand what in the world he is doing. I don't understand his timing. I don't understand why things happen the way they do. Understanding isn't necessary for faith, though. Because I experience God's faithfulness day after days, I know that all the "things" of God that I cannot see, are real, will come to pass, and are the best for me. 

I can't always rely on the meteorologists' predictions, but I can always rely on God and his Word.

Jan

Fall Is A Comin'

Fall is trying to sneak up on me, but it isn't succeeding. One of autumn's first signs is ripening apples. I know my apples are ripening because the grand kids are picking them already. I also know they are ripening because the crows are having pecking parties in the branches. I wish they would peck away on the ones they have already caused to fall instead of the ones I want to pick.

I know fall is starting to move in because leaves are changing colors. Touches of yellows and browns are showing up in the shrubs and trees. Before we know what hit us, the color transformation will be complete and autumn will have arrived in all her glory. But for now, it is using the old stealth approach.

The saddest, sneakiest part of fall is DARKNESS. How long has it been too dark to mow at 8:30 pm? I could do it in July with no problem, but not last night. How long has it still been dark at 4:30 am? It was this morning. Fall almost pulled this one off, but I noticed. Darkness is moving in.

And then there are the mice and the spiders who think I installed a blinking neon sign that announces, "Open for Fall Arrivals!" Wrong. There is no such sign anywhere on my house or my property. I don't know what is giving them the idea they can search for crumbs on my counters or laze in my shower or stroll on the wall above my bed. Sorry, guys, you are not welcome. Just take yourselves back outside or I will do it for you.

So, bring bring it on, autumn. Bring on the ripe apples. Bring on the colored leaves. Bring on the darkness even if I don't particularly like it, but please, autumn, leave the critters outside.

Fall is a comin' and bringing all her splendor. I'm ready,
Jan

God Knows

It is another McDonald morning. One sausage McMuffin with egg, no cheese and a small orange juice is what I ordered. I came into town early this morning just so Dracula at the lab could draw some blood (fasting blood, that is) for a Dr. appointment next week. So, here I now sit and wait for a specific store to open. I sit, and write, and wonder.

What am I wondering today? Well, first off I wonder about the three men working in the flowerbeds outside the window. Young men they are; and wielding rakes like I wield a vacuum cleaner. Under branches, around lighting fixtures, making patterns in the dirt where leaves and twigs once were. Then, when all was tidied up, they deposited the amassed clutter in their garbage can and left. They didn't talk while they were out there. They worked. But, who were they?What made them laugh? Did they cry? Did any delighted children yell "Daddy" when they walked in the door after work?

The rest of my wondering is about a group of young men in the corner booth. There are five of them, all different sizes and shapes, all busily engaged with their laptops, books, papers, and food. Students I think, students getting hyped up on second and third large cups of pop.

Here we all sit: the blond woman reading a book, the lady who keeps placing food on her teenage son's plate, the three women having a meeting, the table full of the usual old geezers passing the morning away over cups of coffee, and me--the grandma with her laptop, mouse, and cell phone.

It is in moments like that this that I am often amazed. All of us sitting here this morning are engrossed in our own thoughts and our own plans. Whether we are trying to guess where the author of our book is going with the story line, deciding what to fix for dinner, or adding an anecdote to a conversation, most of us are only superficially aware of our surroundings and the people we are with. But, God....But, God knows each and every person here in this place. He knows the depths of  our hearts. He knows the plans he has for us. He rejoices and mourns with us. He sings over us. Wow.

Heading out for the day knowing God is with me all the way,
Jan

I Wonder

Have any of you ever wondered what heaven looks like or sounds like? I don't mean figuring out the description of the throne room from Revelation. I guess what I really mean is what are the sights and sounds of  not only heaven, but also the new earth. I often wonder about things like that.

I wonder especially during the times I read about the deep rumbling sound elephants make--sounds that carry for miles, yet are inaudible to the human ear. Then there are times I think about dog whistles that are so high pitched our ears can't hear them, It is in those times that I wonder when we are no longer confined by our human bodies if we will hear all sounds made by vibrations of any kind. If there are earthworms, will we hear them tunneling? If there are roses, will we hear them gently opening their petals? Will we hear the groaning of tree roots pushing against boulders? Will we hear atoms of oxygen colliding with atoms of hydrogen, helium, carbon, nitrogen and any other atom or molecule they might encounter? Will we hear the universe at work, or is that something only God can do?

That isn't all I wonder about. What about our eyes? Will new eyes see the now-invisible light spectrum? Are there colors we have never before experienced here on earth that are awaiting us in heaven? I wonder at times about things like this.

And then I wonder what it would be like to not only swim underwater, but to also breathe underwater. And to flit and hover like a hummingbird, dive like a hawk, glide like a swan, or soar like an eagle, what would that be like? Will those abilities remain for fish and birds only, or will we, once rid of human bodies, experience such wondrous things ourselves?

It doesn't really matter, though. Once in the presence of the most high God, all wondering about "will we" will cease. Awe and praise and thanksgiving will take over as our voices join with all the others in a resounding Alleluia.

In the mean time, instead of wondering what heaven will be like, I need to discover what is going on in front of my very nose. What sunsets have gone unnoticed? What beautiful, yet lonely faces have been ignored? What laughter of children or buzzing of bees has been unheard?

Instead of wondering if I will be able to hears certain sounds in heaven that I can't hear on earth,  I should be wondering if I can hear unspoken cries of pain, loneliness, or despair by truly looking into the faces or watching the body language of people I meet. In other words, can I hear with my heart what they say with their faces and bodies? That is what I should wonder and seek to discover.

Lord, help me discover the wonders of your "here and now" on earth instead of wondering about the "there and then" of heaven. 

Jan