Forgiveness on Marshmallow Ranch

Never Too Late to Change

Wed, 14 May 2025 01:30:00 -0600

I’m pretty far into the book of my life. There were so many things I wished I could change…do differently…start over. However, we can’t rewrite history. Those earlier chapters are written in stone, man. What I CAN do is craft a new ending by keeping God front and center in my life, and by putting more weight onto the right side of the scale.

I’ve changed more than I could ever imagined. I abused alcohol, prescription drugs, food, money, people for far too many years. When the bottom fell out and I found myself alone and my husband moving on without me, I thought it was the end of my life. Getting to the other side of of all that darkness seemed insurmountable. But, it’s just like eating an elephant. You have to take one bite at a time. It took me losing everything to realize this.

I worked hard to gain back the trust of those I hurt most…my family. It wasn’t easy. It took years of therapy and a lot of tears, apologies, and demonstrations of change to make things better between us. To be honest, I don’t think we’ll ever get back to the way we were before I “dropped my bracket.” That’s ok. There was far too much dysfunction in our previous relationships. The only thing to do was rebuild on a solid foundation. That happened after I sought out Jesus to help me.

I’m looking forward to my trip in July and seeing my Colorado family. I am so grateful for the opportunity to spend time with them right where we stand today. Not decades ago when I was THAT person. Sometimes we are handed a do-over card…a chance to make things right and love the way God intended me to.

I praise him for these gifts every day.

🩵

““But forget all that— it is nothing compared to what I am going to do. For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43‬:‭18‬-‭19‬ ‭NLT‬

***Gratitude Journal***   Today, I am thankful for do-overs and the opportunity to try to make things right with those I love and who love me.

Finding Calm During Chaos

Sat, 29 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

”After the Storm” - Photo by Ginny McKinney©️2015

I am walking a fine line between staying informed and staying sane. I think a lot of us are. There is SO much chaos in the world today, it’s so easy to get overwhelmed. I mean…there’s a breaking point for everyone. Case in point. We went to town yesterday to meet family for breakfast, then run a few errands. It was raining cats and dogs. There was a lot of getting in and out of the truck with one small umbrella between us. We were testy with each other…I couldn’t drive to suit him, and he was standing on my last nerve. It was the only time we have ever raised our voices to each other. I know it was mutual frustration, but you know those days where each little thing stacks one upon another till the dam breaks? Well, that was our Friday.

It’s hard to walk away from each other to cool off when you’re running errands. So, I suggested he go look for something on the other side of the store. I spent a few moments alone, and when we joined up to pick out a new coffee to try, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me in front of God and everybody. We were mending fences in Walmart.

It’s what you do in a healthy marriage. Gone are the days of using the silent treatment to get back at one another. No more hissy fits or stamping of feet or long, drawn-out arguments. With silver hair comes frankness, courage, compassion, leniency…forgiveness. Early and often. There’s enough chaos in the world. We sure don’t want it in our home, too.

The other day, I was chatting with Hubby #2 when he asked me if I remembered our friend Larry. He was the husband of a fellow medical student who was diagnosed with ALL..Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. When told there was nothing that could be done, Larry smiled and said, “Good. I get to see Jesus.” Neither one of us got it at the time. But we do now. The promise of Heaven and walking with Jesus has turned us away from the focus of fear.

I can’t help but wonder what life would be like going through trying times like these alone. I know there are so many of you who face all this without your person. I hope you are gentle with yourself and practice self-care. Being at this stage of life is sobering, and I pray for the bereaved among us.

🙏🏼

“But avoid irreverent babble, for it will lead people into more and more ungodliness,”
‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭2‬:‭16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Gratitude Journal 
Today I am grateful that I’m in my 70’s and not my 20’s or 30’s. God brings us through the hard knocks of life because he knows a diamond is created when it’s put under heat and pressure. He knows we are more precious than all the diamonds in the world. YOU are more precious than any diamond. Believe that.

Feeling Violated

Tue, 28 Jan 2025 02:30:00 -0600

I went to knitting group yesterday morning. Even though it was only 17° when I walked out the front door, I was determined to hang with my home girls and catch up. We haven’t gathered since the first week of December so were all really excited to see what was going on with the group. I got about three inches of the market basket done. It’s coming out great and it will be perfect to sit by the Big Red Chair to hold my knitting.

I haven’t been over the hill to our little burg in a minute so I enjoyed visiting Carolyn at the Quilt Shop and the nice gal at the Assessor’s Office. When I got home, I fixed us a very late breakfast. I made egg sandwiches on those sourdough English Muffins I made last week. We still have a few left and they won’t last much longer. I fed my starter yesterday morning and by this evening I prepared my pre-ferment, or levain as it is called. I’m going to bake a couple of loaves of RuthAnn Zimmerman’s Soft Sourdough Sandwich Bread today.

After our brunch, we headed over to The Farm to check on things. We haven’t been out there for a little bit because of the holidays and all this snow. I was relieved when I pulled into the driveway and there were no tire tracks or footprints indicating someone had been there. So, imagine my dismay when I walked in the back to and immediately knew someone had been in there! Every cabinet and drawer were open…all over the house. They even went in the attic crawl space…either looking for drugs or something of any value. Of course, they were met with a whole lot of nothing. The house has been pretty well emptied out except for some pieces of furniture a la Goodwill.

I couldn’t figure out how they got in. The doors were locked. When I searched around, I found the small window open in the kitchen off the back porch. I was so sad. I felt so violated. It made me mad! Every year I declare that place as holy ground, but I was a month or so late this time. We contacted the State Patrol and I’ll talk to a deputy tomorrow. I secured each window, but like my PopPop used to say, “A lock is for keeping the honest people out. It won’t keep the bad guys out.”

I told Mr. FixIt, this will not deter me from having my sabbaticals out there, but I’ll have protection with me when I go! I’m calling in all the Angels to guard and protect my grandma’s house.

❄️🩵❄️

“Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4‬:‭28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful the thieves did not damage anything at The Farm and God kept it safe from harm.

#breakingandentering, #robbery, #TheFarm, #Violated

Freedom!

Tue, 14 Jan 2025 02:30:00 -0600

“Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” Jean-Paul Sartre

We all have had challenges in our lives. Health problems, the loss of a loved one or a job or financial security, tragedies of all kinds. These things are all part of life and usually something that’s just…happens. Things look and feel a lot different when something has been done TO you, especially when it comes from a person you trusted. Those kinds of betrayal are especially hard to get over.

When faced with a betrayal, the wounds go deep. Those cuts leave jagged scars that don’t heal easily. I’ve been betrayed before and in some ways, it was harder to get through than losing Mr. Virgo. Or, maybe I got through that tragic loss because I gained coping skills from the betrayal.

For a very long time, I carried that pain with me. I shared it with others which only perpetuated the open wound and didn’t offer the healing I hoped it would. It only served to spread the poison around to innocent people and kept me in a dark place. As they say, anger is the poison you take hoping it affects the other guy.

So, how do we achieve freedom from our pain? It wasn’t till I forgave the perpetrator that I found relief. It isn’t easy. I wanted to hang onto my righteous anger. Then, I finally gave up on it. I wasn’t hurting anyone else but myself. And the best thing I could do for myself and those I love was to give it to God. After all, HE is the ultimate judge…not me. Once I handed it off to God, my heart immediately lightened. As time went by, I even found my compassion for the person who betrayed me. And, this is going to be hard to believe…we became friends again. Not like before, to be sure…but friends, nonetheless. There was a heartfelt apology and contrition which went a long way helping me get over it. I’m well aware…not everyone is afforded the luxury of closure.

I took that same lesson and have applied it over and over in my life. It seems like the older I get, the less it matters to me what others do toward me. I practice the “let them” school of thought.

If they want to leave…let them.
If they want to talk about me…let them.
If they want to say ugly things about me to others…let them.

It’s not my job to police everyone. My job is to love people. It seems the pendulum on “kindness matters” has swung to the deep end, but I’m here to tell you…it will not last forever.

Light always overcomes darkness.

Good always overcomes evil.

It won’t happen over night. It may get worse before it gets better, but somehow…someday that pendulum will started its inevitable turn back toward the center and people will learn to care again. We just don’t know when. Science tells us nature seeks balance. Faith tells us we’re going to a better place but we need to be light bearers while we’re here.

If God brings us to it, He can bring us through it.

Let go and let God do what God does.

❄️🩵❄️

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4‬:‭32‬ ‭ESV

forgiveness #god #betrayal #love #kindness #let #go #letgo

I Love You More…..

Mon, 24 Jun 2024 01:30:00 -0600

(Trigger Warning: This post discusses sexual abuse.)

What a week. There was a time when any one event of last week would have sent me into pure panic mode. Anxiety, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, rushes of adrenalin over my entire body, dissociating, destructive behaviors. That’s how most of my life has been. But the last sixteen months have been different. Lots of prayer. No sugar, no preservatives, no caffeine, weight loss, exercise, meditation, journaling, Noom, and RYZE mushroom coffee.

I first noticed the difference when something happened that normally would have caused me to crash and burn…and it didn’t. I had a call from my brother’s group home that he had been taken by ambulance to the ER with chest pain and his blood pressure dropped precipitously. I felt the smallest surge of adrenalin which was immediately followed by a thought.

“That’s information.”

I surprised myself. I didn’t have to talk myself down or do anything, really. All I had to do was tell myself I just received information…from my body and from the nurse. Information itself cannot kill you. It speaks to you. What you do with that information is what counts. Instead of focusing on what I was feeling, I listened to what I was being told, asked the questions I needed to ask, and the adrenalin backed off as fast as it came. It was the weirdest feeling.

I think all my body needed was ONE successful experience with coping appropriately to the fight or flight response. Since then, I’ve rolled with the punches regularly and I cannot tell you what utter relief that is to me. Full on panic attacks are awful. And they affect you for days afterwards. My whole life has been spent riding the rollercoaster of my emotions. Knowing I can deal with whatever comes my way has taken a huge load off my mind.

When you have an anxiety disorder, you spend your life trying to control every possible scenario of every possible circumstance to try to avoid that out-of-control feeling you get. Now that I’m not feeling anxious all the time, I am functioning like a normal adult. And it took till 70 years to get there.

This was one heck of a week. In one day, I found out my dear high school chum had died. My brother made another ambulance trip to the ER. And someone I care about deeply is suffering a severe health crisis. Every day since, it’s been one thing after another. And I’ve rolled with the punches. Then yesterday was the funeral. My friend and I shared a very deep bond. Not just the bond of friendship. It went beyond that. We were both victims of sexual assault by the same person…a family member. My episode with him (other than verbal) was just that once, but hers lasted years…repeatedly, brutally.

I stuffed that information down deep inside and convinced myself it wasn’t really sexual assault if there hadn’t been penetration. It wasn’t till I was 35 and in therapy for depression and anxiety that I discovered I couldn’t just brush it off by downplaying it. What had happened was real and it was sexual assault and I needed to deal with it.

As I began to unpack that information, a thought crept into my mind that I couldn’t brush away. If he had been so brazen as to do what he did to me in front of my friend…what must she have been going through in the privacy of their home. The internet was new, and I found her phone number. I called her up and was like, “Hey…voice from the past here!” After a few pleasantries, I told her I had to ask her a deeply personal question and if she told me to go to h***, I’d hang up and never call her again.

“Did _____________ molest you as a kid?”

She went silent. Then in a softer voice she said, “Why do you ask that?”

“Well….because he molested me, too.”

We both cried. We had so many conversations about this. We helped each other heal. She had an amazing countenance. Her faith in God was the absolute center of her life. Without Him, she would have never survived. We talked a lot about the power of forgiveness. My dear, sweet, strong friend led a support group for women who also walked that path. She invited me to speak to the group in her church and I could see how much it helped to know they weren’t alone.

So, that was my week. One thing after another then walking through the past one more time in honor of my friend. She will be missed and many stories will be told. I felt a sense of closure after the funeral. I know she’s in a better place because the Healer…has healed her for all eternity.

As she would say… “I love you more…”

🙏🏼

“Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And behold, there was a woman who had had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said to her, “Woman, you are freed from your disability.” And he laid his hands on her, and immediately she was made straight, and she glorified God.”
Luke 13:10-13 ESV

Reconciliation and Grace

Fri, 31 May 2024 01:30:00 -0600

Photo Credit: Internet

Back in October, I told you about a friend of mine that’s been my sister-of-a-different-mother. She reached out to me in a time of need. At the same time, Mr. FixIt came down with Covid and was dreadfully ill and I totally forgot to listen to her message. When I hadn’t responded in a reasonable time, assumptions were made. When she ghosted me, assumptions were made on my part, as well.

After trying unsuccessfully to connect, and knowing her as I do…I backed off and gave her space. I reached out every week or two just to let her know I was thinking of her. Eventually, she started responding but her tone was more like the conversation you might have with someone in the line at the grocery store. But still, I knew she was going through some terribly hard stuff in her personal life, so I practiced grace with my lifelong sister/friend. We practiced grace with each other actually. She could have just walked away permanently.

Finally, I heard from her over the weekend and she asked if we could FaceTime. We selected yesterday. I prayed repeatedly ever since we made the date…asking God to bring me the right words to convey to my friend. To let me be quick to listen and slow to speak. She poured her heart out and spoke her truth. She was devastated that I hadn’t reached out to her during her time of dire need. She felt abandoned. She was confused, hurt, sad, then mad.

I listened carefully. I nodded and agreed with her. I acknowledged her pain. And her frustration and anger. I could see the edges soften a little just getting it off her chest. But I knew we were at a crossroads in our friendship. Neither one of us wanted to end our lifelong bond, but we were unsure of what the other wanted to do. I respectfully corrected a couple of her assumptions which brought some clarity to the situation.

In the end, we professed our love for each other to the bitter end. And we enacted a strategy. Should one of us absolutely NEED the other, we’ve agreed to text “911” and we will drop what we are doing right away and reach out. The crux of our issue was miscommunication. Extending grace with patience and love showed maturity and grace on both our parts…something I feel I’ve just been able to tap into in the last few years.

Life is just entirely too short to waste a minute of it on misunderstandings. I know not all relationships will come together like we did and reconcile with love and grace but it can never hurt to try to practice kindness in our interactions. There will be plenty of opportunities in the coming months to practice grace. Difficult conversations are never easy, but approaching them with grace and kindness will help ease us back toward the give and take of normalcy. This is my prayer, anyway.

🩵

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
Ephesians 4:32 NIV

The Matriarch

Fri, 08 Mar 2024 02:30:00 -0600

My grandmother was fifty-six years old when I was born. My grandma was only forty-eight. Yet…they seemed ancient to me when I was a little girl. Their hair was gray and their skin was soft with wrinkles. Blue veins traced rivers on the backs of their hands and brown “liver spots” dotted their arms. They were magical beings with vast knowledge of such things as the perfect chicken and dumplings and soothing slices of jelly bread. They kissed away booboos and loved me unconditionally…my grandma most of all.

I was standing in front of the mirror at The Farm yesterday morning, brushing my own grey hair and pinning it up in a bun just as Grandma had always done. I never knew her to have short hair. As far as I know, she had never cut it or gone to a beauty shop. And she never had bangs. I’ve been letting my bangs grow out. I trimmed them myself through the pandemic so I just kept doing it. Then I waited a little too long and was afraid I’d botch it up. Not wanting to go to the hairdresser, I decided to let them grow out to see if I like them. I don’t NOT like them. I wore my hair swept back when I was growing up. My bangs are getting long enough to sweep them back when I pin my hair up, as long as the bun is high on my head. The jury is still out. I think I notice my face more and maybe that’s not a bad thing. I don’t feel the need to hide anymore and this is a little liberating.

That’s me in the center of the photo with my uncle and cousins going for a ride in the old Model A truck.

My Noom lesson yesterday was on self confidence and giving yourself compliments. We are quick to compliment others, yet we are so hard on ourselves. My exercise for the day was to stand in front of the mirror and give myself a believable compliment…out loud. I stepped closer to the mirror and looked at myself critically. I’ve always had a distinct widow’s peak and that’s why I’ve worn bangs. I was self conscious of the receding hairline on either side of my face. I finished brushing my hair back and said to the girl with the grandmother face who was smiling at me.

“You have a kind face. Your eyes crinkle with your laughter and twinkle with happiness. Every line on your beautiful face reminds you of the multitude of smiles you’ve given over the seventy years your presence has been known here. You are exactly as you were meant to be and exactly where you belong!”

I gave myself a big hug and you know what? I felt better! Why are women so hard on themselves…and on each other? We should be celebrated for the glorious and powerful creatures we are! We should be lifting each other up at every turn and encouraging each other with positivity, love, and grace. I used to be so threatened by other women. And now? No way! I am past all that. I am of the mind that if another doesn’t like me or accept me as I am, they are not deserving of my time and energy and I release myself from the burden of bearing the weight of something that is no longer mine to carry.

I took this picture because, honestly…I don’t see that angle of myself. I wanted to see what the roadmap of wrinkles on my cheeks were up to. When I looked, I smiled. I’m not sad to have my grandmother’s face or my grandma’s long hair swept back in a bun. I’m honored to be counted among the crones.

I am the matriarch now.

🩵

”Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.“
Proverbs 31:30-31 NIV

#Matriarch, #Aging, #PositiveAging, #InternationalWomensDay

Should We Love Them Anyway?

Sat, 03 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

Loving your enemies isn’t easy, is it? Jesus loved the men who crucified him because he understood they didn’t know who He really was or what they were doing. He even asked God to forgive them. That’s huge. It boggles my mind. I can’t count how many times I’ve had incongruous thoughts about others who have wronged me or others I care about. I am a fallible human and I fall every day, but I keep on trying.

Mr. FixIt and I “had coffee” with our dear friends over FaceTime the other day. Our political persuasions are in tune with each other and we often discuss current events during our visits. At one point, the conversation turned to “forgiveness.” As a Christian, we are bound to follow Jesus’ example and forgive others.

Matthew 6:14-15 says, “If you forgive others their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” It’s not optional. It’s not a suggestion. It’s mandatory.

The Bible also says, “Do not judge, or you will be judged.” There’s a lot going on in Matthew.

In the Message translation of Galatians 5:19-21 it says there are sins that will keep you out of heaven… “It is obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. I could go on. This isn’t the first time I have warned you, you know. If you use your freedom this way, you will not inherit God’s kingdom.”

Let me draw your attention to part of that scripture… “the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival.” This is what many are doing in this country. We don’t need to devolve into who’s doing what and point fingers…too many are doing it and it’s ripping the fabric of our decency…our core values. We can be better than this. We MUST be better than this. It breaks my heart to see people act this way.

There are some we simply cannot forgive. Jesus says in Luke 13:3,5, “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” We cannot read into Luke 24:34, “Father forgive them; for they know not what they do.” That was in regard to those who were crucifying him. You cannot correlate that with the Nazis and the Holocaust, for instance. The Nazis did not repent and ask for forgiveness of the Jews.

I’ve read that all are forgiven of their sins through Christ’s blood. But not all are saved if they have not repented and laid down their sins. Which circles us back around to forgiveness. Where I find myself is this…while I may not love the actions of some, it is not my place to judge them. I do not like what they do, yet I know we are all fallible. So I turn my energies to taking the log out of my own eye, and praying for the souls of others.

This brings me some measure of peace in these turbulent times.

🙏🏼

”“Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults—unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.“
Matthew 7:1-5 MSG

Chasing Rabbits

Sun, 12 Nov 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Show of hands…how many of you have set out to do one particular job. You get going gangbusters and you’re making some headway. Then you stop to make a cup of tea and something catches your eye up on that tippy top shelf. You know the one. It’s where old mugs and water bottles and stuff your husband refuses to part with go to die. You think, “I’d better get the step ladder and look at this a little closer. It looks like wood shavings in a spider web or something.”

You go get the step ladder, set it up steady as can be, and get up there all close and personal-like and there….before your very eyes…is the dreadful evidence of MICE! UGH!!!! Any thoughts of going back to the project you were so enthusiastically pursuing vanishes and off you go chasing rabbits… errrr, mice… through your kitchen cabinets. Everything has to come out. Your beloved husband goes to get the vacuum cleaner for you and you start sucking the crap out of every nook and cranny you can reach.

Next, you crank up the hot water to surface-of-the-sun hot and find whatever potion you have that will kill every living thing within a mile and start scrubbing. Now, here I must interject two things. First, I’ve lived here for seven years and had no idea there was a hole in the top of that cabinet that goes up into the attic and we live in the country so of COURSE there are critters up there. And second, I made the HUGE mistake of announcing to Mr. FixIt that I was going to have to take everything out and there’s too much stuff up there anyway and I’m just going to go through it and get rid of the stuff we haven’t touched since I moved in here, what is it? Oh, yeah… seven years ago this month, totally forgetting WHY we have all that stuff up there in the first place. I no sooner had uttered the words when I realized I’d played my hand WAY too soon, because…

“Well, you’d better let me see what you’re thinking of throwing away first.”

Crap. The death knell to my plans.

SO many words started bubbling up from that place that stores all the frustration sentences but I bit my tongue. I didn’t actually SAY, “Yes, dear.” But it was implied as I got to work. I decided to do this in phases because you don’t change horses in the middle of the stream here. I got an old towel and laid it out on the island. After I washed a load, it went out on the towel to dry. I made a good dent and asked my hubs if he’d like to go out to dinner. I didn’t have the stomach to actually COOK in there until everything has been sterilized within an inch of its life.

“Sure,” he said, brightly. “I have to pick up something at Walmart anyway. We might as well make an evening of it!”

As we got back from town, I said, “You know, sweetheart. If you pick out what you absolutely cannot part with, I can put the rest in the donation box. THEN, you can pick out FOUR mugs that you actually use. The ones you don’t use but want to keep can be put in a box and stored.” The part my mature brain didn’t say was, “so the kids can throw it out after we’re gone.” However, that is not the hill I wanted to die on so I just let it go. I DID open a cabinet and reminded him we have TWO complete sets of stoneware that we use when we feed the family and there are sixteen mugs that go with them. I think he got my point.

One of the things I’ve been studying in Noom is how to replace a negative experience with a positive one. It doesn’t just apply to our relationship with food. The Bible tells us that Death and Life are in the power of the tongue. I’m sure we’ve all been guilty of venting our frustrations with our spouse to our closest friends from time to time. There’s a time and place for that, in moderation. You need to watch it, though. Because it can get out of hand quickly and it can destroy a marriage. When I make the choice to see my husband as a fallible human just as I am, I am much more likely to treat him with kindness, compassion, and respect rather than with harsh words and criticism.

I’ve seen the change that comes with replacing a negative experience with a positive one in my marriage. I smile and shake my head at myself sometimes. I’m seventy years old. Why couldn’t I have been this wise when I was just starting my adult life? Ahhhh, the woulda, coulda, shoulda’s don’t do any good. As Maya Angelou said we do what we know and when we know better, we do better. Or, at least we SHOULD.

Now, how many hands are up in the room? Yeah, I thought so. We aren’t alone in this, are we? And, isn’t it nice to know that?

🩵

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”
Ephesians 4:32 ESV

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

No ads today. Enjoy your Blessed Day!

The Gift We Give to Our Children

Mon, 18 Sep 2023 01:30:00 -0600

We are a disposable society. Gone are the days when Grandma cut the buttons off of worn out shirts or made a quilt using the old blanket inside the new pieced top and backing. Who gets their shoes resoled anymore? The toaster stops working? Get a new one! Our grandchildren and their grandchildren have lost all touch with making do with what you have. Now it’s all the latest and the best of everything. New, new, new!

Grandma reduced, reused, and recycled everything. Mom’s generation held onto everything but bought more as well. My generation is learning that there’s NO ONE on the planet that wants heavy brown floral couches and avocado green appliances and ugly dishes. There’s a totally different mindset now. They don’t want to work the jobs the way we worked them. And if a marriage isn’t working out, get out as fast as you can and move on.

Relationships have become as disposable as my old 8-Tracks and it’s sad. Where my generation was all about free love, these kids are all about anger. Granted…if you are truly being abused in a relationship, then by all means get out as quickly and safely as you can. But too many are bailing from the raft before they even figure out they can ride the rough water and come out the other side.

Our kids were grown with kids of their own when Mr. FixIt and I got together. And I will tell you this one thing is the best thing I could ever have done.

Learn to love their mother.

That single thing has created a beautiful family atmosphere for all of us and alleviated a lot of the feelings of divided loyalties that kids go through. It doesn’t matter how old they are, the worst thing you can ever do to your kids is talk bad about the other parent. You might feel vindicated when the children choose you over him or her, but down the road that is going to come back and bite you on the butt every single time.

I developed this kind of relationship with Hubby #1 and #2, but it didn’t come right away. There seems to be some societal expectation that you are destined to have an acrimonious divorce and hate your ex’s new significant other. It doesn’t have to be that way. Again…I’m not saying this is possible with every breakup. A lot depends on the circumstances that got you there. But there are a lot of missed opportunities if you don’t learn to love your stepchildren’s mom.

I made specific moves to make sure the Former Mrs. FixIt was included and cared for early on. At my bonus grandchild’s bridal shower, I stayed a step back. This wasn’t my party. I love her like my own, but I didn’t kiss her boo-boos or rock her to sleep. She did. This was her place of honor. And, by taking that stance, it seems to have cemented a solid friendship I am so blessed to have.We talk on the phone…a lot. We share our bounty. We are walking in the footsteps of Jesus when he told us to love one another. That means EVERYONE.

We are heading out to one of our favorite campgrounds today and we’ll be back Friday. I’ll post as usual, because…it’s what I do! I cannot imagine not sitting down and writing my evening letter to you all. It’s really hard for me when I take a break away from writing. My world doesn’t feel right!

““Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.””
John 13:34-35 MSG

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Christmas Calories Don’t Count! It’s not so much what you eat between Christmas and New Years. It’s what you eat between New Years and Christmas! So…eat the cookie!!!

Shop Now

Easter Morning

Sun, 09 Apr 2023 01:30:00 -0600

That’s me in the middle with the sausage curls. Mom used to either pin curl my hair or use a Toni Home Perm. Remember those? Grandma’s snuggling Trinket. Bubby is behind me. Tim-Tam and Tissy Rae to the left.

One of my favorite memories is Easter Morning out at the farm. Sometimes all the cousins would be there. We’d all get dressed in our Easter finery and head to the little white church on the hill down the road. There would usually be a crowd there…maybe twenty-five, thirty people. When I was really little, Reverend Proudfoot would come preach if it was our turn on the circuit. I liked him. He often had lunch with us at Grandma and PopPop’s dinner table. When I got older, it was Preacher Simon. He scared the daylights out of me. If Easter didn’t fall on Preaching Sunday, either my PopPop or his brother, Uncle Red, would lead the services and give a bible study. But whoever it was, Easter filled me with awe because Jesus actually rose from the dead that day! It was amazing and wondrous!

We always had to have our pictures taken in our nice clothes…most often in front of some of Grandma’s pretty spring posies. Then we had to change before we ate the scrumptious dinner she made. If we were lucky, we’d have a ham that PopPop cured in the old smokehouse. Grandma would raid the cellar house and bring in jars of her home canned green beans, roast beef, corn, pickles, and her prized blackcap jelly to add to the meal. She’d put out a whole loaf of sliced bread and some of her home churned butter. On her trip to town the week before, she’d buy a head of cabbage and mix up some coleslaw just before we ate so it would be crispy and sour sweet. We would eat till we were stuffed as ticks and have to waddle out to the front porch to sit for a while if it was warm enough.

Us kids would play Tag, Duck-Duck-Goose, Button-Button-Who’s-Got-The-Button, Fox-In-The-Henhouse, and The Telephone Game. We’d have a big Easter Egg Hunt looking for all the eggs Grandma and our Moms hid for us. When we were tired, we’d each get a chance to snuggle up on someone’s lap for a cuddle and if we were really lucky we’d get a little bowl of Grandma’s homemade ice cream. She didn’t make it in an ice cream freezer. She had a loaf pan and she’d pour the hot custard in it. When it was cool enough, she put it in the freezer. She’d check it often and just before it froze solid, she’d take it out and beat the heck out of it with a big spoon and put it back in the freezer. She repeated this several times then she’d leave it in there to firm up. It was so good!

It was a very special Easter if our Aunt Rosie came with Cousin Cathy. Her give name was Catherine, but Grandma always called her Trinket. So, that’s what I usually call her, too. We lost our Aunt Rosie in January this year, and Trinket is bringing her ashes home at the end of this month so all the cousins are going to be together for the first time in nearly thirty years. There will be lots of stories to tell and we’ll just have a big time!

In the meantime, my prayer is that you have a Blessed Easter Day filled with the same reverence and awe we felt as children sitting in the wooden pews of that one room church house in the hills of West Virginia. May your day be one of connection and love and joy!

Happy Easter…He is Risen!

“At the crack of dawn on Sunday, the women came to the tomb carrying the burial spices they had prepared. They found the entrance stone rolled back from the tomb, so they walked in. But once inside, they couldn’t find the body of the Master Jesus. They were puzzled, wondering what to make of this. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, two men, light cascading over them, stood there. The women were awestruck and bowed down in worship. The men said, “Why are you looking for the Living One in a cemetery? He is not here, but raised up. Remember how he told you when you were still back in Galilee that he had to be handed over to sinners, be killed on a cross, and in three days rise up?” Then they remembered Jesus’ words.”
Luke 24:1-8 MSG

Dealing With Disappointment

Thu, 09 Mar 2023 02:30:00 -0600

The other day, Mr. FixIt and I were watching the episode of NCIS where the big boss’s wife was caught in some crossfire and was killed. As he began to deal with his grief, he came across a box of papers that he needed to sort through. There was an envelope with a bank statement and the key to a safe deposit box. When he investigated further, he found his late wife had consulted with a lawyer about division of assets and she had a sizable amount of money stashed away under her name only. Leon was understandably upset but by the end of the episode, they figured out what had happened. He had nearly died himself and she was scared for what would happen to her and the kids, or even if she wanted to face that.

Of course, NCIS is Hollywood…not real life. What happens when you find out maybe the stories you were told weren’t exactly the way things happened? What happens when you find debt you didn’t know was there? Or there were other secrets…damning things that could threaten your faith in what you had? Making you question if what you had was real. I’ve heard stories from readers who have opened up about such things. And I’ve gone through it myself.

One time, early after Mr. Virgo died, I relayed one of the stories he had told me about his grandfather. Later that day, I got a note from one of his cousins saying that story was absolutely NOT true and I should stop telling “family stories” that were not mine. It gave me pause. There were other things I discovered that didn’t quite ring true. I found another one yesterday while searching for something unrelated.

I busied myself with other things as I contemplated what it all meant…I mean, really meant to me. Mr. Virgo and I met in our mid-fifties. There had been a LOT of water under our bridges by that time. It wasn’t like being in our twenties with a fresh first marriage and a lifetime of groundwork. We had baggage. Baggage we took a quick inventory of and decided there were no huge deal breakers and we loved and trusted each other enough so we progressed forward.

Finding facts after a death can make you question the veracity of your relationship. You have to go through his or her belongings after your spouse dies. And you can find out things you wish you hadn’t. Here’s how I dealt with that. Mr. Virgo treated me like a queen. He thought the sun rose and set at my feet and there was no denying that…no matter how elaborate his stories were. I look back now and I know some of them were hyperbolical. But what does it matter? The sun rose and set at his feet, too.

The lesson I took from that is…employ careful discernment. My relationship with Mr. FixIt is different. For one thing, we’ve known each other since we were kids. And, I set strict ground rules…we do not lie…stretch the truth…exaggerate…polish…or hide stuff. When I smell it, I call it out…and so does he. Do I honestly think none of that will happen? Heck no! But I question stuff and don’t take everything at face value anymore. I ask myself how important it is. If it’s not, then we’re fine. If it’s important…we hash it out.

I was still reeling from a difficult divorce when I met Mr. Virgo. Even though it had been five years, my confidence and self esteem had taken a big hit. Add to that how movie-star handsome he was, and I fell hook, line, and sinker for everything. I didn’t want to rock the proverbial boat and risk “being left” again. You learn a lot about what you really want and what is really important to you when you go through hard times. I mean…we are human. We are fallible. We will make mistakes because we are not perfect. Only God will never fail us. If we know this and understand this, it takes a lot of pressure off of our expectations of each other.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed with what I learned yesterday, but it doesn’t change the fact that we loved each other and our marriage was a beautiful time in my life. I forgive him…as I hope he forgave me my own iniquities. These things have strengthened my resolve that Mr. FixIt and I have a marriage grounded first in God, then in truth, honesty, and love. It can’t get much better than that.

“and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.””
John 8:32 ESV

Communication

Mon, 14 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve been monitoring my social media usage the last few weeks. With the lead up to the election, I found my stress level rising. Add the new roof and trying to get the a-frame camper back from the shop and getting everything buttoned up for winter and my stress alarms were bing-bonging all over the place.

I have to say, during the last couple of elections, I let my better angels take a back seat and opened my mouth in ways and at times I shouldn’t have. It cost me friendships that I held dear and I’m saddened by that. I know it cost me readers and I’m sure glad you stuck it out with me. Going into the midterms, I made a concerted effort to keep away from the third rail and it made my life much easier.

I always told my girls, “You cannot possibly live long enough to make every mistake out there, so try to learn from the mistakes of others.” I’ve been watching a major social media outlet as it crashes and burns. Its CEO has been lashing out and generally making an a$$ of himself and wondering why it’s all falling apart. And, while that’s been happening, I’ve witnessed people saying things that leave me shaking my head and wondering…did they kiss their mama with that mouth?

I’ve been following Susan David, Ph.D. (@SusanDavid_PhD) on Twitter for some time. She wrote the #1 Wall Street Journal Bestseller…Emotional Agility. I have not read the book yet as I still have difficulty concentrating on reading. Dr. David is a Psychologist at Harvard, and a TED Speaker. Her tweets are little mini counseling sessions where she gives you something to ponder.

I was scrolling my Twitter feed yesterday morning when her tweet showed up.

“You may be right…but is your response serving you?”

That one stopped me in my tracks and really made me think. That’s something we can use in just about any scenario. The first thing I thought of when I read that was, “Do I have to correct my husband every single time he makes a mistake?” I don’t…but I feel like I do that way too often. And Dr. David is absolutely correct. I may be right…but does it serve me? And the answer is no.

We’ve all seen the hurt behind the eyes of someone we love when we make a cutting remark out of frustration or anger or exhaustion. I hate that. I want to keep those longing looks I used to get when he thought I walked on water. Ok…we can’t do that either. Real life kicks in at some point and two independent adults living in close quarters are bound to bump heads at one time or another.

I remember when Mr. Virgo was alive. We never had an argument. About anything. At the time, I thought that was marital bliss. Since then I’ve learned, that was anger suppression. We probably should have argued…or at least expressed our displeasure when we felt it. And I don’t think we did that. He passed away before any real damage was done from that suppression so I’ll never know how it would have played out in our relationship. But I have an idea it wouldn’t have gone well.

Mr. FixIt and I have no problem laying things out on the table. We don’t fight, but we have spirited conversations from time to time. We’ve walked away and gone to our corners to cool off then come back together and speak more rationally. This is different than any relationship I’ve ever had and I think it’s because we’re older, more mature, and just too tired to make a big deal of crap that’s not important.

It’s funny the things we thought were such a big deal in our thirties and forties just…aren’t anymore. I wish I would have known this when I was younger. I could have saved myself a lot of angst. I didn’t have a very healthy role model in my parents’ relationship to learn how to BE in one of my own. I, like most people, learned from trial and error. Like Maya Angelou said, “We do what we know and when we know better, we do better.”

At least…that’s the goal.

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 ESV

“A Quiet Life”

Sun, 13 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I haven’t said anything about the recent loss of Leslie Jordan. I was saddened to hear of his passing. I always got a kick out his reparte with Karen on will and Grace, but I kind of felt a little went a long way with him. Then, the pandemic hit and something magical happened. Leslie started posting a couple of times a day to Instagram..sharing his light and love with the home bound.

He was delightful and funny and self deprecating. He was no longer “too much”. He was just…real and raw. His authentic self. I especially loved his Sunday recordings where he would sing old timey Hymns that he remembered from his childhood. When he came out to his mother at the age of twelve, she told him he would be ostracized for that and she couldn’t bear it so she encouraged him to “live a quiet life.” Yeah…THAT didn’t happen!

Leslie touched the hearts of millions and his celebrity soared. He found legitimate appreciation in Nashville and recorded with bonafide mainstream artists and musicians. I just loved him and the world is a little darker without him in it. Here is a link to his interview on CBS This Morning.

We had a lovely day yesterday. One of our granddaughters held a surprise 25th Anniversary Party for her parents…Mr. & Mrs. FixIt Jr. at a local restaurant and we had such a wonderful time. There were fifteen of us and it was a total surprise. They walked in and we yelled Happy Anniversary and they had this puzzled look on their faces like…what are you all doing here? It was wonderful to be able to celebrate with them.

The rain has abated and the cold front pushed in. Our temps dropped ten degrees in ten miles. There was snow to the west-northwest of us and I know it will hit us before we know it. We ended up with close to three inches of rain in two days! I’m not going to do a thing but knit today…promise! Mr. FixIt will be off bowling this evening.

And a new week is set to begin.

“Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.”
Romans 15:7 ESV

Looking Back Can Be a Good Thing

Mon, 26 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

To the right, through the trees, you see an appartment building with balconies. On the top floor, to the right of the balcony, is the window of the livingroom in our flat.

Have you seen that meme… “Don’t look back. You aren’t going in that direction.”? I have. And there’s a lot of truth in that. If we live in the past or hold grievances from long ago, that hasn’t healed anything that’s already happened. That day is gone. It can’t hurt you anymore. But the memories…ahhhh, that’s where we can get caught up in a lot of self-defeating angst.

On the top floor, the balcony closest to the camera was ours…just off the livingroom.

I read something about forgiveness the other day that really spoke to my heart.

The front walkway.

“Forgiveness is not a matter of exonerating people who have hurt you. They may not deserve exoneration. Forgiveness means cleansing your soul of the bitterness of ‘what might have been,’ ‘what should have been,’ and ‘what didn’t have to happen.’ Someone has defined forgiveness as ‘giving up all hope of having had a better past.’ What’s past is past and there is little to be gained by dwelling on it. There are perhaps no sadder people than the men and women who have a grievance against the world because of something that happened years ago and have let that memory sour their view of life ever since.”
Rabbi Harold S Kushner

There used to be clotheslines right about where the photographer would have been standing. I hung diapers there to dry as best they could between the frequent English rains. I ended up buying a drying rack and aired them out between the balcony and the livingroom.

I received some photos the other day that took me WAY back. Back to my first marriage. Back to living in England…a young bride, so far from home for the very first time. It’s where my first child was born. England was a wonderful life experience for me and I still have dreams of it from time to time. As every rose has thorns, that marriage had some prickly ones that were hard to go through and it didn’t last very long.

The narrow walkway from the parking lot to the front doors.

I’ve worked diligently through the years on forgiveness. Forgiving others. Forgiving myself. Forgiveness seldom takes on the first try…or even the tenth. But practice brings improvement and eventually I found peace with the hard knocks of life. Each experience contributed to who I am and where I am today. Without the experiences, I likely wouldn’t be writing to you today. So, I’ll live with that.

Driving on the wrong side of the road, sitting on the wrong side of the car, shifting with your left hand, navigating round abouts and zebras (crosswalks) and minding the cyclists and horses…land sakes, it was a challenge when I was young. I can’t imagine doing it now.

In the meantime, let me share these photos. Forgiveness has made these memories warm and sweet. I do hope that one day I can return here to visit and maybe take my daughter to see where she was born. For now, I look and remember simpler times. Times when I thought I knew it all, yet had no idea how much I didn’t know. The world was still rosy and fresh and new. Thank God, I’ve found those glasses again and can see it much the same way. As I wrote this, I heard a large jetliner overhead and checked on FlightAware only to find it was a flight headed to London! Lucky travelers!

I’ve no idea if this was the actual chip shop we frequented, but I have fond memories of paper cones made from newsprint, filled with golden, crispy, greasy fish and chips doused in malt vinegar and salt. Oh, yummmmm!

When we think differently, the world looks different.

“And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.””
Mark 11:25 ESV

‘Maters and Berries and Emancipation

Sat, 18 Jun 2022 01:30:00 -0600

At least once a week…too often more…we have to run to town and do errands. With the price of gas, we try to hold all errands to that one day if at all possible. I think we’ll probably have to start grouping our medical appointments to cut back on drives into town. A round trip including errands all over town can easily rack up thirty, forty…even fifty miles. When you get around 16 miles per gallon and your gas costs upwards of $5 a gallon, it pays to collate your errand list into as efficient a circuit as possible.

We went to Sam’s and bought a few bulk items that we needed. They had a great sale on chicken thighs for 98¢ a pound. One of my friends and I have a game where we try to beat each other’s best deals. I was so proud of that chicken. Then she told me Walmart had whole legs for 84¢ a pound! (If we didn’t have so much to do this weekend, I would have bought enough to can a few jars.) I beat her on gas, though! $4.86 a gallon at Sam’s. The line reminded me of the ‘70s during the oil embargo.

I always pick up a rotisserie chicken when I go to the store. We have sandwiches a lot over the summer because you don’t have to heat up the house cooking. I love cold chicken or roast beef sandwiches. We bought bread at the discount bread store for much less than we could get it at Sam’s. When we got home, we had our chicken sandwiches and watched the recording of America’s Got Talent from Tuesday night while I worked on the socks I’m knitting.

I’ve been extra careful shopping the last few months. I found a really big chuck roast for $17. I’ll put it in the slow cooker in the morning. Then we’ll have meat to take with us on our camping trip next week. We bought Hebrew National hotdogs. I won’t scrimp when it comes to hotdogs and sausages. I don’t want beaks and bits in my buns!

We stopped to water the tomatoes at our friend’s house in town and they have gotten SO big! They need tied up and the suckers pruned again. Mr. FixIt went out when we got home and picked our first harvest of blueberries. We only have one blueberry bush but it’s really loaded this year. It has just about outgrown the cage Mr. FixIt built over it to keep the birds out. Maybe in a couple of years, we’ll get enough to make a batch of blueberry jam!

We’ve had little bits of rain the last couple of days but nothing to speak of. It was a tad bit cooler yesterday with a high of 84°. Today isn’t supposed to get over 75°! That’s much more like our normal June temperatures and I’ll take it any day of the week. It’ll be a good day to mow. There is so much to do around here this time of year. But, farm-life is the best life and it’s so, so good for you to get outside in the fresh air to do a solid day’s work.

I hope you enjoy your beautiful June weekend! For those of us who may not have had a good relationship with our fathers, may we remember those good men who perhaps stood in that space for us. And honor the fathers of our children…present or not. Remember Juneteenth and send up a solemn prayer in honor of those who suffered unspeakable tragedies under enslavement. I am grateful President Biden made Juneteenth a national holiday. You can read more about this holiday HERE.

““Whoever steals a man and sells him, and anyone found in possession of him, shall be put to death.”
Exodus 21:16 ESV

Step by Step by Step

Sun, 09 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

It was a beautiful day yesterday. The sky was clear and blue. The sun was shining. And it wasn’t quite as cold as it was on Friday. I knitted. Surprise, surprise! I also cooked a little and cleaned the kitchen. Sometimes I get discouraged with cooking because it’s immediately followed by cleaning…again. But, you can’t live on sandwiches all the time and I had a hankerin’ for biscuits and sausage gravy. That right there is a stick-to-your-ribs (and other miscellaneous body parts) kinda meal. I pulled out my biscuit bowl and cast iron and had a heyday.

I am making rapid work of these socks. I can’t believe I’ll have a pair knitted in one week. That rarely happens for me. I usually get bored after a while and have to work on something else. But these are different and I really like this method. I think I’m going to try a toe up technique at some point. That way, you can make the foot of your sock plenty big enough and just knit the top till you run out of yarn so you don’t waste any.

As I sat knitting and watching football, notifications came in on my phone. Most of the time I didn’t bother looking, but occasionally I peeked in to see what was going on. Someone shared a meme that gave me pause. It was about forgiveness. I’ve learned to forgive others for trespasses against me. I’ve learned to forgive myself my human frailties. I shudder to think how much time I’ve spent hoping those who hurt me would say “I’m sorry”.

Take my dad, for instance. Or the men who molested me when I was a kid. Or those who wronged me in relationships. For all of those traumas, I’ve had to heal without an apology. It’s painful. And it’s wrong. But…the lack of an apology was not my fault. No more than the trauma itself was. People are who they are…good or bad, right or wrong. They make their own decisions and it’s a reflection of who they are. As long as I keep my side of the street clean, take ownership of my errors and do my best to make amends, I’ve done all I can do. Life isn’t a neat and tidy package all wrapped in pretty paper and a bow. It’s messy and sometimes downright ugly. I think God gives us many chances to learn from our mistakes. That’s why life sometimes feels like the movie, Groundhog Day. Humans are presented repeat opportunities to learn and grow. It’s up to us if we actually wear that mantle and rise above our trials. And leave them behind. It isn’t easy. It takes a lot of introspection and hard work. I have to say, I think I have a little better handle on that at sixty-eight than I used to. One of the perks of aging, I guess.

We are expecting rain today. I am expecting to finish these socks and start on something else.What are you expecting in your neck of the woods?

“Stay with what you heard from the beginning, the original message. Let it sink into your life. If what you heard from the beginning lives deeply in you, you will live deeply in both Son and Father. This is exactly what Christ promised: eternal life, real life!”
1 John 2:24-25 MSG

What Happens When You Forget? You Forgive!

Mon, 13 Sep 2021 01:30:00 -0600

This weekend was a whirlwind of love and emotions and a little angst and a lot of laughs and huge doses of reality. Aging ain’t for sissies. Neither is watching your beloved brother decline more and more each time you visit. I couldn’t see him last year because of covid and, as you know, a lot of changes can come about in two short years. It was heart rending to see his condition, but I am so glad he’s moved into a place where there will be more assistance. We just need to have some productive conversations to delineate expectations for the future. These are not easy conversations to have.

After saying goodbye to the family members who came in for the party, we went to the store and bought my brother a charger for his phone. When we arrived at his new place, I discovered the charger didn’t fit, so I took it back. I had the phone with me and had to go to Walmart to get the right one. When I returned, I made sure the end fit his phone…big breath. Then I went to plug the other end in and realized we didn’t have the plugin piece for the USB. Grrrrr….back to the store and found one, brought it back to his place and got everything plugged in and charging.

There were hugs and promises to see him next spring and we made our way out to the truck. There were many friends I would have loved to visit when I was in town and there was one particular friend I really wanted to see. I envisioned driving by and just saying a quick hello, but it was getting late, we didn’t know if rain was coming or not, and we knew there would be Sunday afternoon traffic going back into Denver so I decided I’d just have to see her next time. She has twin daughters who are in the same program as my brother and when we walked out to our truck, there was Judy…parked right in front of us!!! Oh…I love how God delivers and gives us what we need!

We stopped and got coffee and they got the order wrong. We drove around the block and had them fix it. We stopped at the gas station, and hit the road. The devastation from the fire and floods in Glenwood Canyon were even more apparent heading east. That’s the side closest to the river and your view is clearer. It broke my heart to see the changes. It also was pretty awe inspiring to witness the power of nature to make permanent changes to the earth. This canyon will never look the same as we knew it, but future generations will stop at the rest areas and see educational plaques that tell of the raging fires and the devastation of a stationary set of monsoon rains that caused the draws to become roaring rivers of trees, boulders, and mud.

Traffic wasn’t bad. We toodled along, oohing and aahing over the glimpses of yellow as the aspen are beginning to change. I love the bright and cheery flashes of yellow and gold and almost-red that contrast with the deep green of the surrounding fir trees. All of a sudden, it hit me…I totally forgot to go visit Mr. Virgo’s grave! I spoke with others at different times over the weekend, pointing out Friday would have been his birthday. But there was so much going on with my brother that demanded my immediate care and attention…it never once even occurred to me to go to the cemetery.

I felt terrible. Like… “what is WRONG with me” terrible. I had every intention of going to the cemetery this trip…like I do every other trip. Finally, I decided to give myself a break. While this was a wonderful weekend with family, there were some things going on with my brother that were very upsetting. I was brokenhearted on the one hand, excited to see him and my family on the other. I was trying desperately to juggle everything without losing my cool. I was successful. I am sure Mr. Virgo would have been proud of the job I did this weekend. I know Mr. FixIt was. So, I cut myself a little slack and promised to go to the cemetery in May.

Life is hard enough without beating yourself up over things that sometimes get shoved out of busy brains and busy lives. God knows my heart. We’re good.

“fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10 ESV

Finding Peace in Change

Sun, 12 Sep 2021 01:30:00 -0600

What an amazing weekend this has been! My sweet brother was the center of the universe yesterday at his party. He sat at the head of the table and “held court”. We had a great meal that Daughter #1 fixed. Hubby #2 and his wife were there as well as his younger sister and her husband. They will forever be family and it was just such a beautiful thing to watch.

There was a time when I would never have believed we could all sit in the same room and be civil. Well, certain ones anyway. Divorce is never an easy thing. But time heals and distance helps the heart grow when division sets you on different courses. Besides, the attention was on my brother…not on any of us.

Still, the beauty of the day was not lost on me. On so many levels.

We stopped on the way to the party and got him some new clothes so he was looking pretty dapper by the time the guests arrived. My brother is so much more frail than he was two years ago…hence the change to more assistance. The men jumped in and helped him up and down the stairs. The women doted on him and brought him food and drinks. Hubby #2’s wife and my Mr. FixIt both took turns playing UNO with him.

He beamed as we sang Happy Birthday to him. He said hello on a video to the WV family who couldn’t be there.

And, as everyone got up to say their goodbyes, my Bubby looked around at this amazing family of ours and said…

“I love every one of you.”

I’d say this has been a 100% bonafide bang up 70th birthday party for the best brother on the planet! Today we head back to Denver so I won’t see my brother again till May of 2022. Like I said yesterday…it’s been an incredibly emotion packed weekend, but it’s been so wonderful to be with my beloveds.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”
Numbers 6:24-26 ESV

It’s the Dog Days of Summer

Fri, 13 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The Mystery Flower: Sun Star? Star of Bethlehem? Some kind of lily?

I am hoping against hope that yesterday was the hottest day of our summer here in West Virginia. When they tell you it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity…that’s pretty much true. The thermometer on the back of our house registered 103 at 4:00. Granted…that’s on a red brick wall on the west side of the house, but it’s under the eaves and out of direct sunlight. The humidity was only 63% but it felt like a sauna out there.

Mr. FixIt went to town to help a friend price some antiques before his yard sale this weekend, so I stayed home in the air conditioning and finished up the plans for our trip to Colorado. I found some really great places to camp and didn’t have a bit of trouble finding available campsites. That’s the beauty of camping in September and October…the kids are back in school and summer vacations are all but over.

As the sun began to slip toward the horizon, I went outside and took some pictures of this mystery plant that was here when I came onto the scene. Remember I told you it was all but dead in the basement and I emptied the two planters into a washtub along the fence? Well, they’ve gone crazy and now they’re blooming. The tallest blossom is as high as the fence! I ran a picture of it through a plant identification app on my phone (PictureThis) and it says it’s a Sun Star…otherwise known as a Star of Bethlehem. I’m not totally convinced, but it might be. Anyway, the flowers are beautiful. The plant is hardy. But, you do need to dig up the bulbs and store them in the basement over the winter.

I walked around the property as it got dark and suddenly, I started seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and there were bats swooping down all around me and that kinda freaked me out a little so I headed back to the pool where Mr. FixIt was sweeping and cleaning. All this hot weather has really made the algae go nuts so we need to get after it with some chemicals today. He asked me to go turn off the pump so I could back flush it. Well, as soon as I tried to turn it off, the switch broke right off! I was reaching the end of my rope by this point. It was still in the 90’s, I was sweating buckets, I was being chased by bats, and now I’d broken the pump switch.

It was getting pretty dark. I went in and got the head lamp and Mr. FixIt handed me a flathead screwdriver. I unplugged the pump, got down on the ground and managed to flip the switch back to the on position. When we plugged it back in, it turned right on. By this time, we had a hose running in the pool to bring the water level back up. We have had no rain to speak of in weeks and between that and all the back flushing, we were running pretty low.

I sat down on the deck. I could feel the sweat running down my cheeks and made a decision…it was time to turn off the lights and go skinny dipping! There is nothing more wonderful than slipping into cool water when the world feels like an oven and it’s making you act just plain nasty. My dear friends Janine Pettit and Lesa McDermott just finished rafting the length of the Grand Canyon. It was 114 degrees every day. The nights got all the way down to 99 and they slept with wet towels over themselves to try to cool down. I cannot imagine that kind of heat. That was an incredible life experience…one they were both glad they did with twenty other Girl Campers. But, they neither one have a desire to do it again.

Anyway, the pool felt wonderful and it was like that candy bar commercial where the grumpy guy turns nice again once his sugar level comes back up. I could feel my shoulders relax and the tension leave my body. Mr. FixIt and I floated around and talked about the stars and the Colorado trip and the news of the day. We watched the heat lightning off in the distance. Soon we were friends again and laughing.

It’s important to feed each other in life. To look out for each other. To fight fair. To talk nice. When you fall short…you say “I’m sorry”. Marriage shouldn’t be “hard work”. Like all things, living and loving can challenge us. The challenge is loving and forgiving and trusting with a great big sense of humor. It’s easy to get grumpy when the weather is hot and sticky and things break. So, take my advice…turn off the lights, drop your drawers, and jump in the water!

Stay cool, dear ones!

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.””
Genesis 8:22 ESV

Day 318: Lead with Love and Make Amends

Thu, 28 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I had to run to town yesterday for a followup breast ultrasound. I have a cyst growing where the one was removed a couple of years ago. So, it turned out ok, I think. The official report isn’t in yet, but the tech says I just have a tendency to produce cysts. As long as they’re benign, I’m ok with that. Just remember...get the tatas checked regularly, ladies.

As I sat in the waiting room, another lady sat the recommended six feet away. I knew I recognized her, but couldn’t place where...and you know, with masks, it’s even harder. I finally asked where I might know her from. We finally determined we live in the same small town, so we probably see each other at the Piggly Wiggly, or maybe Dollar General.

The technician came to the door with my chart and called, “Ginny?”

“Yes!” I smiled and began to rise.

The woman with the long gray hair said, “Ginny. Did you go to Bethel Church???”

Bingo! That’s where I knew Judy from. It was so good to see her...it’s been several years. I wished her well and followed the technician. Just inside the door, I stopped and said, “I’m sorry...would you excuse me for just a moment?”

I stuck my head back out the door and said, “Judy, did you know Aunt Peeps passed away?”

She did not. I told her briefly what had happened. In that moment...in a better time...I would have walked over to her and hugged her. Instead, I just gave her my warmest look and said, “I’m so sorry to tell you like this, but wondered if you knew.” She thanked me and I continued in the back with the technician.

When I got home, I made a big pot of chili. It’s going to be cold and snowy and that’s perfect weather for it. I chatted with my son-in-law’s mom for a bit and mentioned what I was cooking. She texted back...

“I wish we were there to have chili with you!”

Tears immediately stung my eyes. Oh, I’m missing my people so.

When will the better days come? How will we be? What lessons will we have learned from this experience? How can we move forward with love and grace in the aftermath of such ugliness of the last few years?

I came across this song yesterday by Dolly Parton. Dolly has a big ol’ heart of gold and I found her words so encouraging, reminding us that maybe...just maybe, we don’t want to be like we were before all of this. Maybe God has shaken up the great big Etch-a-Sketch of life and he’s giving us a clean slate...a new way to act...a new way to BE in the world.

I want to be more grateful for the goodness in my life.

I want to demonstrate my love for my family, friends, and fellow man.

I want to be a light on the hill and shine the true love of Jesus out through everything I do.

I want to hug more and harp less.

I want to smile more and snipe less.

I want to appreciate every gift in every way.

I want to love more...and more...and more, still.

There will be better days ahead, I promise...when life is good again.

Listen to Dolly’s song “When Life is Good Again”.

“My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.”
1 Corinthians 2:4-5 NIV

Day 311: Another Dawn...Another Day

Thu, 21 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Amanda Gorman, first-ever National Youth Poet Laureate

I had a very long day yesterday. Mr. FixIt left early to go to Sam’s during the time set aside for Prime Members...before the doors open to the general public. There were only three people in the whole warehouse. I elected not to go because I wanted to watch President Trump’s farewell speech at Andrews. It is not lost on me that many of you did not want to see him go and the day was sad for you. I feel for your sadness, disappointment, anger...because I’ve known the same. If this contentious election taught me anything, it’s the ability to put myself in someone else’s shoes and have empathy. It has also given me an opportunity to step back and look at politics through a different lens. Instead of standing so far apart, slinging stones and arrows...I recognize this is the process our country was built on. This is the reason there is not a monarchy or an autocracy. Our form of government was designed to take turns. The pendulum swings...wildly at times...but it always comes back in a different direction. I think, doing a job we can be proud of is a worthy goal for either side and working together for the greater good gives us ample opportunity for improvement. There has been an awful lot of divisive rhetoric over time that makes us see the worst in each other. I strive to do the opposite.

I think the most beautiful thing I saw yesterday in the entire day’s event was the reading of the inaugural poem by Amanda Gorman, America’s first-ever National Youth Poet Laureate. At the tender age of 22, this Harvard student...a descendant of slaves, the daughter of a single mom...spoke with intelligence, beauty, grace, and poise. Her slender hands painting the air as she sent her well chosen words into our hearts...a balm to heal broken places. The fact she stood on the very spot where such violence shook our nation just two weeks prior exemplified the stark contrast between darkness and light. I was mesmerized and want to share it here...not only as a record of the day, but as a testament to what I have always strived for in my own writing. That there is goodness in the world...even in the darkest of times. And, that we have far more in common than the differences that divide us. I always strive to be a uniting force. I’m not always successful...but it is in the trying that we find a worthy endeavor.

You can read the words of the Inaugural Poem here as well as view Ms. Gorman’s reading.

As the day wore on, and the more mundane events commenced, I gave in and took a little nap. I was freezing and climbed under the blankets, allowing their warmth to comfort me in the soft cocoon of slumber. Afterward, Mr. FixIt and I watched the news, then the first press briefing, then...the star-studded Inauguration Celebration they had in lieu of the traditional balls. Actually, I much preferred that. We can’t go to the balls...and who wants to watch other people dance? I loved having a program of inspiring music and the celebration of Americans...not just America. The story of the little girl with the virtual lemonade stand that raised $80,000 to help others. The little boy who overcame a stutter and read part of an Inaugural Speech. The words of encouragement and wisdom from prior presidents. It was generous and selfless, humble and kind. Inclusive.

Finally, when we were nearing the middle of the show, I took a break to make us a little sweet treat. As usual, I didn’t have a recipe in mind, but I knew I wanted warm muffins and a cup of tea. I searched around in the pantry, and this is what I came up with. Amounts are approximations, as I don’t really measure...I kinda eyeball it.

Flapjack Muffins

2c. Krusteaz Protein Buttermilk Pancake Mix
1c. Applesauce
1 large egg
1tsp ground cinnamon
Enough buttermilk to make a thick muffin batter

Mix together throughly by hand. Then fold in whatever little extras you want. I added a cup of a dried cranberry & pecan mix that I use as a topping for yoghurt or salad. I also added a cup of semisweet chocolate chips.

I have the really big muffin pans so this made five. It would have made six if you didn’t fill the cups as much. Bake for about 25 minutes at 350 till a toothpick comes out clean. I split them and buttered each half and ate them while still hot from the oven.

Warmth and goodness heals us from within. May we strive for moving closer to each other and heal with warmth and goodness...an maybe a nice muffin and a cup of tea.

“Love is more important than anything else. It is what ties everything completely together.”
Colossians 3:14 CEV

#Unity, #CommonGood, #MiddleGround

Day 308: Dream a Little Dream

Mon, 18 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve been very selective how I spend my social media time over the last few months. Yes, occasionally I get caught up and head down a rabbit hole but I’m finding that kind of time suck doesn’t serve me well. We cannot spend much time on Facebook without seeing disparaging comments coming from both sides of the aisle and I’ve had just about enough of it.

I would rather spend my precious resources toward lifting everyone up and finding ways we can moved back away from the edges to a more homogenous center where we can work together for a better tomorrow. I think of Abraham Lincoln and Dr. Martin Luther King, JFK and even George Bush. Their noble exhortations aimed at taking our eyes off of ourselves to focus on others...creating a servant’s heart.

I stumbled across this photo of Ella Fitzgerald the other day. It was taken in 1955 and she was sitting with another woman of color, on a bench in a jail cell. She was arrested for “singing to an integrated audience.” It made me so sad to see the look of dejection on Ella’s face...her shoulders slumped, hands folded in her lap. What must she have been thinking?

“When you are accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” Another Facebook meme I came across yesterday. I can personally attest to this. As a doctor’s wife, I experienced the privilege of seldom having to wait for an appointment with my physician. I never had to pay anything....they accepted what insurance paid. I was treated (over treated) to the best of the best.

When I was no longer a doctor’s wife, I was still known in the community so things didn’t change all that much for me. However, once I moved away from that circle of influence, I had to stand in line like everyone else. I will not lie...I had a fleeting moment of quiet indignation. Then humility took over and I cooled my jets.

“I have a dream” of a “kinder, gentler nation” with “a thousand points of light”....because “it takes a village” to “ask not what your country can do for you...ask what you can do for your country.”

“Can’t we all just get along?”

I’m reminded of the song we sang in school...”Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” Let’s go out there this week and do what we can to change the world because we absolutely can have an impact as one person.

Listen to Louis and Ella singing “Dream a Little Dream” HERE.

“Don't mistreat someone who has mistreated you. But try to earn the respect of others, and do your best to live at peace with everyone.”
Romans 12:17-18 CEV

Day 239: Reflections 2016-2020

Sun, 08 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I debated with myself all day yesterday whether to even mention the election or not. I’ve been largely staying away from it over the last few weeks. I know I danced a little close to the fire a few times and I got a little singed around the edges because of it. That’s ok...I’ve got broad shoulders.

Without getting into any specifics, let me just say this...I know what it feels like to be on the short end of the stick and it doesn’t feel good. I raised my children with the caveat that character is shown not only in how you lose, but also in how you win. Gloating is impolite and does not build bridges with our opponents. Neither does petulance. There is a lot of heat and passion involved in this election, and it isn’t going to disappear overnight. But, hopefully, we can give each other the chance to listen with open hearts and minds, to build trust between us, and to work together toward a bright future.

I think the biggest positive I saw last night was the look of awe and pride from little girls of color sitting on their daddies’ shoulders. They wanted to get a better view of the woman who looked like them, standing on a stage in Delaware. Like it or not, a glass ceiling has been broken in this country and generations of little girls will grow up knowing they can work for any job they want.

I’m sharing my post from four years ago. It shows how I reacted when I felt the sting of disappointment. I have always tried to land on the side of compassion and understanding. I know the coming weeks and months may be difficult, but my prayer is we can learn to set aside our differences and grow together. Let’s make our mama’s proud.

[www.marshmallowranch.com/on-being-...](https://www.marshmallowranch.com/on-being-passionate/)

“Then someday, I will heal this place and my people as well, and let them enjoy unending peace.”
Jeremiah 33:6 CEV

Day 237: Distraction Therapy

Thu, 05 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Another day of very little political involvement equals another day of peace on the Ponderosa. I started knitting some little scrubbies from a yarn made by Red Lion. It’s got rough little hairs on it and works for dishes as well as exfoliating your skin. I just cast on 20 stitches and knit each row, making them 4”x4”. They make nice little holiday gifts attached to a bar of fancy soap.

I’m determined to have the Christmas tree up by the end of the week. I mean...why not? The world needs all the sparkle it can get, and I’m all about the sparkle. The darkness comes early now. By 6:00, it looks like midnight. That’s not my cup of tea, so to speak. The little white lights of the tree brighten my mood and who doesn’t need that right about now?

Covid is still raging and we are pretty much keeping to ourselves again. Trying to be as self-sufficient as we can be and stay home. I’m working on ways to store all my kitchen gadgets without having to go up and down the stairs all the time. I think I’ll convert a closet that we don’t use and turn it into an appliance garage. A few shelves is all I’d need and it would work out perfectly.

I’ve eaten half that darned apple pie. Holy cats...it is SO good!!! I need to start running or something. Maybe do the Ironman. lol

One good thing about stepping back from watching anything about the election is giving me time to breathe and see things through a broader lens than the one I get online. I’ve been thinking more and more about this concept of colors. I’m an artsy kinda gal. I am creative and have worked with color for years. I’ve been hearing people saying they’re “purple”. I think most of them are seeing that as being planted in the middle of the road politically. I see it for myself as a way of coming together...of red and blue making purple. Civility. Inclusivity. Compassion. Tolerance. Education. Patience. Peace. Love. Hope. If we cannot find a way...we must MAKE a way.

At the time of this writing last night, we still did not know who was going to win the presidential race. So, before it is decided, I want to make a commitment to “Choose Purple” as the way to move forward and work toward reducing the divisiveness we are experiencing in our country. I only want one thing...

Healing.

❤️??

“I trust you for protection in times of trouble, so don't frighten me.”
Jeremiah 17:17 CEV

Day 236: I’m Not Watching

Wed, 04 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I was so proud of myself yesterday. I didn’t scroll endlessly through social media and news sites filling my every waking moment with the talking heads. Instead, I had a leisurely breakfast with my sweetheart then took him to the dentist. Poor dear had to have some painful work done. I brought him home with a stop at the store for ice cream, yoghurt, and cottage cheese...soft and easy to eat. He dug into my home canned applesauce as well so he was, overall, a pretty contented guy. Tylenol seemed to keep him comfortable enough.

As he kicked back in his comfy new recliner, I worked on the Christmas ornaments I am knitting. We watched Andy Griffith and Frazier and Big Bang Theory reruns. We did watch the evening news and that was the extent of election info for the day.

I’m still working on the two little kits I bought when we were at the beach. I have ripped out the white one six times. First it was too little to get the clear plastic ornament into. Then it was too big and I ran out of yarn before it was finished. This went back and forth and finally, I set it aside and worked on the other one. It has bright colors and for some reason, the pattern just struck me and I realized what I did wrong with the other one. Basically, it boils down to trying to keep track of stitch count and watching TV. That just doesn’t work very well for me. Once I figured it out, it was smooth sailing and I’m almost finished with the fourth ornament.

I bought some fuzzy white yarn so I’m going to try to make some that look like snowballs. I also bought some of that scratchy yarn to make kitchen scrubbies. I’ll show you those when I start on them. That’s really the extent of my day. It was uneventful, given the importance of the election. And, I finished the day relaxed and not angst filled. I’m focused on peace and goodness in my life because I have no control over what happens outside of it. I still, at the time of this writing, have no idea who won the presidency. We may get up this morning and not know. But, win or lose, we are all Americans...one nation, under God.

So, today...I just keep knitting.

❤️

“Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.”
Colossians 3:13 NLT

Day 235: Election Day 2020

Tue, 03 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

It’s finally here. I don’t know about you, but I am so oversaturated with all the political ads, misinformation, disinformation, anger, divisiveness, and flat out hatred we have all witnessed over the last year. I have no idea what’s coming in the next few days, but if watching the businesses boarding up their windows is any indication, it looks really scary. There is actually a real condition called Election Stress Disorder. Therapy visits are up, along with anxiety levels and the number on the scale.

We all do what we need to do to get through stressful situations. We may have unhealthy coping strategies like hibernating or overeating, drinking or doing drugs, shopping or whatever else we might come up with to get by. As we sit here today, it’s like watching the fuse on a stick of dynamite burning down and waiting for the explosion.

There are some coping strategies to help get through the coming few days and keep our anxiety levels down. Remembering to simply take a deep breath can help to center you. Getting some exercise is beneficial, even if it’s just as simple as taking a walk. Avoid “doom-scrolling” through the news and social media...looking at all the worst-case-scenario stories. Our minds can conjure up some pretty scary scenes. Keeping our minds occupied with something other than sitting in front of the TV all day and night can go a long way toward keeping fear in check.

I have my knitting beside my new red recliner. I have four really great magazines to read. I made an apple pie yesterday and I’m sure we’ll nibble on it for a couple days. The biggest diversion of the day is a trip to the dentist for my sweetheart. I thought it was ridiculous to do that on Election Day, then I saw my husband’s brilliant logic...keep his wife occupied and away from the television.

I saw a lot of posts yesterday encouraging people to refrain from gloating if your side wins or try to keep from sinking into despair if you lose. Things like that make me hopeful that we can heal from the ugliness we have experienced during this election. I go further than that to what the Bible tells us to do...love one another. It seems so simple, yet...it’s going to take some real effort, I think. We can do this...we can heal...we must heal. We must.

❤️

“But I am giving you a new command. You must love each other, just as I have loved you.”
John 13:34 CEV

Day 234: Reflections of my Father on his Birthday

Mon, 02 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I definitely resemble my father.

I’m not sure I ever really knew my dad. I mean...I lived in the same house with him for nineteen years. He spent much of his time either off somewhere “fishing” (aka drinking at local bars) or puttering at his work bench (aka drinking in the basement). He was a broken man by the time I came into the picture, I think. I don’t think he was happy married to my mom. The woman he really loved spurned him and I think he and mom just kind of settled for each other.

I remember him as being a talented artist, although all of the artwork he saved was done before I came along. He dreamed of being a commercial artist but family responsibilities squashed his ambition. He dreamed of being a farmer and living in a small house in the middle of forty acres but, again, he worked a rather menial job and he was a functioning alcoholic. He settled in as a parts manager at the local Mack Truck garage.

I left home as soon as I could, marrying my high school boyfriend. We moved to England and from there, Colorado. Dad and Mom both passed away long before I returned to West Virginia to live. So, our relationship was complicated by distance, by my need to heal the scars of youth and his need to forget he had anything to do with them. I continued to try to gain his love and approval clear up to 2004 when my mother died. We had a parting of the ways when he said something ugly about my brother who is differently abled. That’s when I was done...and I told him so.

Sometimes you have to walk away from relationships that are hurting you. It took a lot of therapy for me to realize just because we were blood relatives doesn’t mean we had to keep hitting ourselves in the head with a baseball bat. I felt a mixture of extreme sadness and blessed relief when I walked away. I was traveling to West Virginia to say goodbye when I got the call he had already passed. I sat alone with him in the funeral home for a couple of hours. I ranted and raved and spewed out all the things I had wanted to say to him all my life. When his ashes were released to me, I took his wife, the box of ashes, and a shovel and went to his favorite fishing hole. Laura couldn’t walk down to the edge, so she said her goodbyes from the high riverbank. I dug a hole, buried his ashes, and placed a stick cross over him. I prayed he made it safe to heaven and if so, I hoped to see him there one day and maybe then we could really talk.

He would have been 100 years old today. He liked to say he was born in 1919 because he thought it sounded cooler. I’ve long since forgiven my father for not being the dad I needed him to be. And I’ve long since forgiven myself for not understanding him and not being there for him when he lost himself. I’ve stopped beating myself up for not being the daughter he wanted me to be. A lot of change came when I finally accepted Jesus into my heart and I learned a lot more about the act of forgiveness.

Happy 100th Birthday, Dad. I hope you’re having a big time fishing on the best riverbank in Heaven today. I hope you catch a big one!

❤️

“Parents, don't be hard on your children. If you are, they might give up.”
Colossians 3:21 CEV

Day 220: Grounding Myself in the Spirit

Mon, 19 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Flyfishing the Curratuck Sound at Sunset

Mr. FixIt and I haven’t been to church in person since February. We really miss it, but online church has become our custom and we get up with great anticipation to hear another good sermon. When they first started attending live services, the pastor made some remarks that made us feel belittled for not attending in person. I sent a kind, well-worded message and asked that they please not ostracize those who choose to stay home due to underlying medical conditions that could make getting Covid a death sentence. The next weekend, the pastor spoke into the camera and welcomed us to online church and dubbed us the Warehouse Nation. Their online ministry has started drawing an audience from all over the world. It’s just a simple lesson...don’t shut people out. God’s using this time for HIS glory...not ours.

For the most part, I really love my home church. But there have been a couple of times that I have been put off by the pastor preaching politics from the pulpit. I have asked on my personal page if this is a common occurrence and I received some very good feedback. Unfortunately, the discussion quickly went off the rails and political policies and the heated emotions that attend them blew up. Most of the time I’ll cut that off, but this time I let it run its course and prayed till it blew over. That being said, I won’t do that here so let’s not even go there. I thought about writing another well worded note to the pastors, but didn’t. When it happened a second time, I almost said forget it...we’ll just find another church. But God kept whispering to my heart to hang on. He’s not just working on me. He’s working on everyone and He wanted me to be patient and give Him time to work. In other words, He wanted me to tend to my own knittin’, as my grandma used to say.

The other day, a young man who went to high school with Daughter #1 was on a thread I was was participating in. I know better than to read Facebook too late in the evening when I’m tired and fed up. A comment was made and I responded. Looking back, I can see where it came across as snarky. I was going to erase it, then vacation stuff took over and I totally forgot. That is, until I got the response from “John”. It was equally snarky. I typed a response...and erased it. Typed another...erased it. Another...cancelled. In my conversational tone, I said, “Ok, God...what are you saying here? What are you asking me to do?”

“Wait...I’m not done yet.”

Yesterday, our pastor delivered the sermon God wanted me to wait for. I don’t know if someone else sent a well-worded note, or if God was working on all of us, but our pastor walked us through the Fruits of the Spirit. Since when did we start hating each other for having a different political opinion? Since when did we decide it was ok to throw out the Golden Rule and go for the jugular every time someone says something that offends us? Granted...there ARE plenty of things to be legitimately offended over, but we shouldn’t be hateful over differences of opinion over politics. God is so much bigger than Trump or Biden or Covid.

The Fruits of the Spirit are: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Being our best self. I saw something the other day that gave me pause.

Kamala is beloved.

Donald is fearfully and wonderfully made.

Mike is cherished.

Joe is important enough that Jesus died for him.

Jesus sees us all through the same lens and God is our judge...not members of the opposing party. I can respect the office but not the policies and/or behavior of the person sitting in the chair. I can know who you vote for and still love you. Humans are capable of that.

This post isn’t about politics. This post is about love. God’s love for us. And the love He commanded us to practice toward Him and each other.

❤️

““Teacher, what is the most important commandment in the Law?” Jesus answered: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. This is the first and most important commandment. The second most important commandment is like this one. And it is, “Love others as much as you love yourself.” All the Law of Moses and the Books of the Prophets are based on these two commandments.”
Matthew 22:36-40 CEV

Day 209: Multi-Tasking!

Thu, 08 Oct 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Multi-Tasking!

Hokey-smokes! It took three days to make seven and a half PINTS of apple butter....but, ohhhhhhhhh....is it ever good! I started out with nearly a bushel of apples on Sunday. On Monday, I had them mostly cut up. On Tuesday morning, I managed to get them cut up enough to fit them all in two big slow cookers. I thought they would cook up nice and thick but by evening, they were actually swelling up and I was afraid they would spill over. So, I took my immersion blender and puréed them. Now I was absolutely sure the apple butter would be nice and thick by yesterday morning. Nope...still soupy. I needed some way to cook them down.

What started out pale like applesauce is turning dark from the carmelization of the sugars.

I remembered I had a big disposable turkey roaster in the pantry, so I pulled that out. I put as much of the purée as I could fit in that pan and popped it into a 325 degree oven. I put the rest in my big canner, poured myself a cup of coffee, pulled up a stool, and sat down with a big wooden spoon in one hand and my coffee in the other...all while perusing Facebook! After a couple of hours of that, the pan in the oven had cooked down enough to add what was in the canner. Finally! I could leave it alone and just stir it ever half hour or so. I discovered this is the only way to make apple butter if you want to do anything else that day! It came out so nice and thick and the perfect balance of spicy sweet and tart. I can’t believe all of that cooked down into just seven full pints. The half pint I put in the fridge for eating right away. I’m not the biggest fan of apple butter, but I’ll tell you what...you’ll have to be pretty special to get one of these jars!

The apple butter is now a very rich brown color. Reduced by baking for hours at 325, it’s finally ready to jar up and process. Believe it or not, this is nearly a bushel of apples!

After two days of vibrant yet civil discourse on some sensitive topics on Facebook yesterday, I was pretty fried. I have a couple of pages that I can go to with like minded individuals and just get a feel for what everyone else is going through. In one group, a woman asked if we were still going to be friends with our friends who vote differently than us. I was appalled by the number of people who replied with a resounding no. It gave me time to think about what comes next.

True friendships are like a marriage in a way. You go through the good times and the bad times. Sometimes you have to speak uncomfortable truths and stand up for what you believe in. But you still respect each other in the end. At least I think you should. I love all of my friends and it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t continue to love them after the election. We are all, every single person, no matter which side of the fence you sit...we are ALL entitled to our views. We may not understand how or why the other votes or believes the way they do, but as long as you still want to be my friend, you have a friend in me. I draw the line if things get abusive. I do have boundaries.

Dr. Martin Luther King said it best. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

I choose love.

❤️

“Love is more important than anything else. It is what ties everything completely together.”
Colossians 3:14 CEV

Day 187: Be Better...Do Better

Mon, 21 Sep 2020 01:30:00 -0600

My mom always told me my mouth would get me in trouble someday and she was so right. There have been times...too many times...that I react and speak instead of take a breath and think. I try limiting my news time. I try staying off of social media more than just a few minutes a day. I try to get out and do something active. I try to end each day with a feeling of accomplishment.

I try.

I don’t always succeed.

Too often I get sucked into the maelstrom that social media has become. I get triggered. I get angry. I get frustrated. I get sad. When those things happen, it’s far too easy to start to respond negatively and that’s when the drag starts...like a weight around my neck, pulling me deeper and deeper into the depths.

That’s not where the light is. That is not what brings me hope. Finding hope today is sometimes like parenting an obstreperous toddler. No matter how tired we are, we have to find something they’ve done to praise them for so they feel encouraged. In this case, it’s us that needs the encouragement. We need to shift the attention to what we are doing right, thank ourselves for do it, and do more of it.

My friends and I talk about the Bible and share scriptures. We text them to each other periodically during the day for encouragement. We share bible studies. We send jokes that make us laugh and eases the tensions in our lives. Having a network with whom you can share life with is invaluable. Find your people...through church or a senior center or the library. Meetup is an app that helps you find likeminded individuals with similar interests.

Go through your friends list on Facebook. Pick five people a week to just send a random note to. Not a meme...but a heartfelt message letting them know you were thinking about them and you wanted to reach out to see how they’re doing. Send more goodness out into the world and it’s bound to catch on eventually.

Flood the world with kindness this week.

Think about what you are sharing with the world before you hit “send”.

Don’t contribute to the divisiveness that’s out there. Be part of the solution, not part of the problem.

Research before you post. Include resources. Make your English teacher proud.

When that meme grabs your eye, think twice...three times before you share. Is it kind, is it true, is it necessary?

Send beautiful things out into the world. Do you really think your rant about the “other guy” is going to change anyone’s mind at this point? I can pretty much guarantee this...it may not change their mind about who to vote for, but it’s sure to make them look at you differently. We’re almost to Election Day. We are coming into the home stretch.

Let’s fill the world with a lot less bitterness and a lot more better-ness. Let’s see if we can put out this dumpster fire and create some beauty. Because...

Kindness Matters

❤️

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”
Isaiah 1:17 NIV

“Do not be misled: “Bad company corrupts good character.””
1 Corinthians 15:33 NIV

“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”
James 1:19-20 NIV

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”
1 Peter 4:8 NIV

“The one who has knowledge uses words with restraint, and whoever has understanding is even-tempered. Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues.”
Proverbs 17:27-28 NIV

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
Galatians 6:9 NIV

Day 150: Just an Old Granny Grump

Sat, 15 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

When my grandma got old and we’d ask her how she was doing, she’d say, “I’m just an old Granny Grump!” I have no idea how old “old” was to me at the time, and I surely didn’t grasp the full nuance of the term “Granny Grump”. But, I think I’m beginning to get it.

Ok...I’m not old, but I’m feeling like it lately. And I’m definitely feeling grumpy. Just ask my poor husband. It’s hard when you go on Facebook and you see your friends out doing things and you aren’t. It makes you wonder if maybe you’re being silly with all these Covid precautions. I mean, really...what harm could it do to hop on a plane or hook up the camper and drive across the country? I want to go camping. I want to go out to dinner. I want to go to Daytona Beach.

I want my life back.

I know. You do, too.

This isn’t easy. And getting ready to head into the winter months, feeling like this will never ever end can easily turn anyone into a Granny Grump. When we got home from town yesterday, I hopped on the mower and mowed the whole property. I can do a lot of thinking while I mow. I zipped past the camper and thought, “I could do it, you know. I could just pack that bad girl up and hit the open road and be in Colorado by the middle of next week!!!” Man, I miss my kids and grandkids and brother and friends. Mr. FixIt and I have been together more in the last 150 days than Mr. Virgo and I were in the entire seven years I knew him. I’ve never spent this much time with anyone and being the kind of person I am...I know full well I am much NICER when I have a little tiny bit of space to call my own.

Then I remember how awful it was when I found out what being really alone felt like. And I start feeling a little guilty about wanting some space. Because I know about grief and loss and aloneness. And...being careful what you wish for.

There is a difference between wanting to be alone and wanting a little space and time to recharge. Thank God, Mr. FixIt is pretty much back to being his healthy self. I still wouldn’t feel comfortable pulling the camper all the way to Colorado without him this summer, though. That’s too far away and not enough time has passed since the strokes. Then there’s the whole virus thing...so, here I am.

I’m just feeling a little stuck. And, I know I’m not the only one.

This is a tough time we are going through, considering everything that has happened this year. I am reminded of something I wrote about a long time ago. You can put an egg and a potato in boiling water. One will become hard. The other soft. The temperature of the water is the same, but what they turn into depends on what they are made of.

I will not let my present set of circumstances harden me.

This, too, shall pass.

❤️

“If you are a husband, you should be thoughtful of your wife. Treat her with honor, because she isn't as strong as you are, and she shares with you in the gift of life. Then nothing will stand in the way of your prayers.”
1 Peter 3:7 CEV

#JustSayin, #Grumpy, #Stuck

Day 144: Into the Woods I Wish I Could Go

Sun, 09 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I told Mr. FixIt yesterday that I want to go camping...right now. And I don’t want to come back till February. I don’t want a TV or a radio. I don’t want the Internet. I want my iPad and the ability to write and post essays to my blog everyday. But I don’t want anything else but peace.

I simply must find a way to stop getting sucked into the stories that upset me. I read an article warning against “doom-surfing”...getting on the internet and reading one bad thing after another till you’ve gone so far down the rabbit hole, it’s hard to find your way back. I tell myself, I’m being a concerned citizen. That I need to remain informed on current affairs. And, overall that is true. But, where I fall off the wagon is reading all the drama surrounding it.

I have sworn I won’t rant about politics on my page. Then, I wake up and look at my phone and see a trigger story. Before I know it, I’ve shot off my mouth and I haven’t even had coffee yet. I have a wonderful reader/friend who has been around the entire time I’ve been writing this blog. We have become good friends and have had lunch together when we were both visiting Denver. She commented so delicately...just one sentence...and it snapped me out of it. I wrote her a private message and thanked her for throwing me a line.

There are lots of things I can do to improve this world, but ranting on Facebook isn’t one of them. It gives people the wrong idea of the kind of person I am. And face it...do you really think that off-the-charts meltdown you’re having on social media is going to change anyone’s minds of you?

I have seen some responses from people on my side of the fence and I cringe when I read them. I mean, I totally understand where they’re coming from, but I cringe, nonetheless. The last couple of days, I’ve been trying to really cut back on “doom-surfing”. I look at this picture and really, really wish we were there...away from all this angst.

Since it’s impossible to go live on a mountaintop till February, I’m going to have to come up with diversionary tactics. I’m going to start setting a timer when I get on the internet and stop looking when the time is up. So far, that app that tells me how long I surf online has done nothing but shame me for wasting so much time. Perhaps a timer will be more useful.

I did get a couple new baking books. I’m returning one because I didn’t realize when I ordered it that’s it’s for professionals working in bakeries and restaurants. The recipes make huge amounts and it’s just the two of us. (Although, I did send a loaf of sourdough bread to Daughter #1 for their wedding anniversary dinner.) I have mastered sourdough. Now I think I’ll try baking a nice brioche.

❤️

“He was painfully abused, but he did not complain. He was silent like a lamb being led to the butcher, as quiet as a sheep having its wool cut off.”
Isaiah 53:7 CEV

Day 136: It’s All in the Tone

Sat, 01 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I was an absolute a$$ this week to one of my dearest friends in the world. She and I live on pretty opposite ends of the political spectrum and I usually do a decent job of keeping myself in check. But something in me snapped this week and I went way over my line in the sand and I knew I had hurt her. She went quiet. She didn’t open my texts. I realized I had put “being right” over “being smart”. Over “being kind”.

It does absolutely no good to scream at others over your differences. And, while I didn’t think I was “screaming”, I forgot that tone is everything with the written word. I was struck by something President Bush said at Senator John Lewis’ funeral: “Listen, John and I had our disagreements of course - but in the America John Lewis fought for, and the America I believe in, differences of opinion are inevitable elements and evidence of democracy in action.”

It takes a great deal of insight to recognize when you have crossed a boundary, and it takes courage and humility to ask forgiveness for your transgressions. I am not sorry for having my own ideas of what I feel is right. But I AM sorry for acting as though MY ideas should be everyone else’s ideas, too. The world isn’t black and white. We all believe in things through the lens of who we are, where we’ve been, what we’ve seen, and how we want the world to be.

I was relieved when my friend accepted my apology and we again expressed our love for each other. Does that mean we cannot have lively debate with others who disagree with us? No, of course not. But it DOES mean we are all God’s children and he loves us equally. We should pray as much for our own understanding as we do for the understanding of others. We can disagree and still come from a place of human decency and loving kindness.

Respect helps your ideas go a lot further than standing on a bully pulpit.

I so needed a break from all this daily angst online and in the news. When we woke up yesterday morning, Mr. FixIt asked what I wanted to do with my day and I said I wanted to drive up to Kidron, Ohio and check out Lehman’s Hardware. I’ve been drooling over their catalogs for years and it seemed like the perfect escape.

We grabbed coffee at the drive through and drove the two-and-a-half hours north. OMGosh! That place is the Smithsonian of hardware stores. Honestly, it would take several days of browsing (without the hubby) to take it all in. Building after building are connected with each one housing yet another genre of goodies to behold. I made a bee line for the kitchen area and honestly, I saw very little of the rest of the store.

I picked up some wonderful things for the kitchen. We needed a new pizza cutter. Ours broke over a year ago. I got one of those gadgets that cut the corn from the ear. I needed a new Foley Food Mill for separating the seeds and skins from the tomatoes when I can them. I lost mine in the downsizing, I think. I found a great springform pan with a glass bottom for making cheesecakes. I also found a skimmer with a very fine screen for getting the foam off the top of jelly before I put it in the jars. It will double as a fine sifter for putting rice flour on my sourdough loaves before I score them.

Let’s see...I got Lehman’s 65th Year recipe book that I can hardly wait to read. I found the perfect canning ladle. And, I got a little gizmo for making very small batches of homemade butter. Homemade butter doesn’t last quite as long as the kind you buy in the store and it’s not always easy to make up very small batches. This may be one of those gadgets that look like a better idea in the store than it actually does in the kitchen, but we shall see.

When we got home, I felt like I had been away for a week. And the very best part is, I didn’t spend so much time on the internet or Facebook and it gave me a much better outlook and attitude. And, my friendship is still intact without compromising my ideals. It was a very restorative and very humbling day. We need those from time to time.

It is a new month...another new start.

❤️

“If I have to brag, I will brag about how weak I am.”
2 Corinthians 11:30 CEV

Day 131: Searching for Grace

Mon, 27 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

We have held church in our living room every Sunday since the lockdown began. Which means we have not attended services with our church family since the middle of February. It’s only been four months, but it seems like a lifetime ago. While I miss my peeps there, I’ve learned that church is not the building we attend. As a matter of fact, those ninety minutes a week we spend there is really such a small piece of who I am as a Christian. I have a supportive group of Christian women in my life. We keep each other in prayer and check in on one another, offering support wherever it is needed. One of my group recently found out she has Covid even though she followed the guidelines. Masks and hand washing are good deterrents, but they are not 100% effective. We know this. But, for now, they are the only bullet in the gun.

Our pastor preached a sermon yesterday on grace. Having grace for our people is normally pretty easy. We are all trying to get through and lift each other up as best we can. That’s the easy part. It is harder to find grace for those with whom we vehemently disagree. I am often torn. There are things I find more difficult to forgive than others. Then I remember...Jesus loves the sinner, hates the sin.

I have been searching for grace more and more lately. We are weary of this mess. We are weary of the news. We are sometimes frightened by what we see...things we have never seen before. Or...at least, not for a long, long time. Things we never thought we would have to deal with again. Things are changing...shifting...dying...growing...ending. This is the hardest part of change. When we can find something constant to focus on, we can rise above the chaos.

This will not last forever. It is grief. We are grieving the status quo. We are yearning for what once was. We are mourning the loss of the lives we knew...the comfort, the stability, the sameness. It is a collective grief we are all feeling to some extent or another. This is not easy. But, if there is anything losing Mr. Virgo taught me, it is that there really is nothing in the world we have real control over except our reactions to it.

Everyone...well, it seems everyone I know, anyway...has an opinion about what’s going on in the world. Politically, socially, economically, physically, mentally...and social media has brought out the worst in many of us. I am a work in progress, but I truly am trying to focus more on grace and less on my insatiable need to be “right.”

As I watch the news and scan Facebook, I send prayers up for those I disagree with. I try, sometimes unsuccessfully, to keep my mouth shut. I cannot tell you how many times I have typed out a very LONG rebuttal to someone’s angry statement, only to think better of it and erase it instead of hitting send.

I ask myself one very important question.

Which would I rather be...”right” or happy?

I try to emulate Jesus. I try to think of what He would do in each situation. And I’ve come to the conclusion that...sometimes we need to be the teacher. Sometimes we need to turn over the tables in the temple. And sometimes we need to go into the garden and pray. Praying for discernment to know which attribute to use at any given time is a full time job and I’m working it hard.

I’m not always successful, but I do give it my best shot.

❤️

“So whenever we are in need, we should come bravely before the throne of our merciful God. There we will be treated with undeserved grace, and we will find help.”
Hebrews 4:16 CEV

Hebrews 4:16 CEV

Day 92: Kindness Matters

Wed, 17 Jun 2020 01:30:00 -0600

My heart has taken such a beating in the last few weeks. Covid, killings, riots, politics, strokes...hokey smokes, it’s been crazy. Then, I go on Facebook to see the kids’ pictures and the violence is escalating. I went through my feed yesterday like a woman with her hair on fire. I’ve always been one to try to see both sides. And I find myself failing at that. I find myself sassing back and that is not the person I want to be. It is not the person God intended for me to be. So I went through my feed and if it stirred anger in me, I blocked posts from that site. That way, it won’t show up on my feed anymore when one of my friends share it on theirs. There were a few that I have tolerated unkind and flat out mean behaviors from and I just gave up and hit “Snooze for 30 Days”. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.

Kindness matters. The kindest thing I could do...for them or myself...was to back away. Let them rant on their own pages. Maybe they’ll still be there after 30 days. Maybe they won’t. Maybe the 30 days will pass and I’ll find I didn’t miss that particular contact in my life. You know, just because you were friends fifty or sixty years ago in school doesn’t mean you grew up to have the same ideals, the same values, the same goals. I love my friends, don’t get me wrong. But there are sometimes very good reasons you didn’t stay in touch all those years beyond the lack of social media.

I’ve reconnected with people from my past that wouldn’t give me the time of day in high school. We ran in different circles. We lived under different economic circumstances. Maybe they were really shy and I just thought they were stuck up. For whatever reason, there are some that I have become extraordinarily close to. And, on the opposite end of the spectrum, there are those I truly loved and when I met them as adults, they weren’t the kind, loving people I thought they were. Life is hard. It wears us down. I don’t know what traumas went on in people’s lives between then and now. I just know when something isn’t healthy and, all sentimentality aside, I don’t need that in my life. No one does.

The number of friends I have on social media is not the metage of my worth. Granted, I wasn’t the most popular girl in school so when Facebook first came out, I was pretty jazzed to find myself with so many “friends”. But, as my late Aunt Peeps said, I was talking to my “pretend friends” much of the time. There are different categories of friends and some are really nothing more than acquaintances. It’s ok to thin the herd a little when it is hurting you.

If it were not for this blog, I would probably have backed away from Facebook years ago. But now I have skin in the game. Now I have a calling from God to share my stories and life experiences because somewhere out there, others are going through tough things too and it helps a lot to know you aren’t alone. That someone out there “gets you”. I share what God presses on my heart. Sometimes he’s quiet and all I have to talk about is baking bread or a story from these West Virginia hills of my youth. Other times, like now...he tells me to speak about kindness.

It is SO incredibly easy to see all this chaos and think the world is all bad and it just isn’t. The media isn’t falling all over themselves to show you all the kind things. They’re out there...the kind people. And, if you can’t find one...

then BE one.

❤️

“Whoever despises his neighbor is a sinner, but blessed is he who is generous to the poor.”
Proverbs 14:21 ESV

#Kindness, #Generosity, #Love

Day 79: Taking a Look in the Mirror

Wed, 03 Jun 2020 01:30:00 -0600

When I was growing up in the mid to late ‘50s, the Civil Rights Movement was gaining speed. One of my first friends in grade school was a little black girl named Lisa. Lisa went on to become a pastor and actually performed our marriage ceremony out in our field when Mr. FixIt and I got married.

My aunt that recently passed away was a Head Start teacher in Washington, DC in the ‘50s. She showed me photographs that had the words “Colored” and “Whites” over the drinking fountains in the school where she taught. I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. My grandma sat me down and told me under no uncertain terms was I to EVER treat anyone differently because of the color of their skin. Therefore...all these many years...I’ve thought I was not racist.

One of the many things I learned from therapy was how to take a good hard look at myself and own/change my less-than-stellar character traits. Back in the mid to late ‘70s I was a single mom. I went out to a bar one night with some friends and a handsome black man showed interest in me and I demurred. I had a young daughter at home, and I was not nearly as enlightened as I thought I was. And I felt ashamed by that. Would I have had a problem with one of my daughters marrying a person of color? Not at all. But back when this happened, I was a young woman...still wet behind the ears...and frankly afraid.

I’ve said things like “All Lives Matter” and “I’m colorblind”. But now? I will forever hear “I can’t breathe” in my mind...echoing over and over. We watched a lynching on video. How can I not be changed by that? I want to be MORE than “not racist”. I want to be “anti-racist”. And to do that, I have to educate myself to the real everyday existence of people of color. I can’t turn a blind eye and not say anything. I have to wake up and learn and do whatever is in my power to make the changes that need to come to fulfill what the Bible tells us to do.

The Golden Rule has to be the base upon which all reparations are made to those who have been disenfranchised because of the amount of melanin that is in their skin. It’s only right.

I cannot condone violence and looting and killings. But I will support peaceful protests and I vow to educate myself to their plight.

I found this article to be a good starting point.

❤️

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.”
Matthew 7:12 NIV

Day 55: A Different Kind of Mother’s Day!

Sun, 10 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

As I sat at my keyboard last night, I looked for pictures of my mom and thought of all the Mother’s Days we had together. Really...very few. Once I left home to seek my fortunes, I am not sure we ever got to see each other on Mother’s Day. I always came home in the summer months when the kids were off of school. But I always called her and sent her a card and flowers.

I keep my pictures of Mom in an album on my iPad marked “”Family”. That way, when I get lonesome for them, they’re all in one place. I thought of all the sad and sentimental things I could say about my mom and how much I miss her. But, the truth is...even though I miss her desperately right now...I would NEVER want her to have had to experience what’s going on in the world. All the anger and divisiveness and ugliness would have upset her greatly. She had such a tender heart. And this virus would have worried her to death. I am much more peaceful knowing she is with her family and with Jesus.

My eyes scanned the photos and lingered on my own children...from when they were littles to when they had littles of their own. These girls made me a mom. I wasn’t always very good at it. I made huge mistakes and it broke my heart that I let them down. So many years were lost to depression when I just couldn’t seem to connect with them as they needed. I’ve spent much of the last twenty years trying to fix that. Trying to be a better mom. Trying to create new and better memories.

Since I moved back to my home state, I have returned to Colorado every summer to see the girls and spend time with my grandchildren. Then, the pandemic hit and I am not at all sure I’ll get to go back this year. There was a time when I would have focused on that loss and that’s all I’d see. Things are different now. Now I see where God is taking this situation and turning it for good.

My girls and I have communicated more since the Stay at Home orders came out than we ever have. There are lots of phone calls and texts, sharing pictures, video chats. When I watch their Facebook feeds, I see them reaching back for THEIR comforting touchstones and I see myself there. In the raised bed gardens. In the baking and making and growing. In the phone calls asking for advice. It has warmed my heart.

In the last two months, during this lockdown, I have finally realized...I made a difference in my kids’ lives. The things I taught them, stuck with them. And now, they are using those gifts I gave them to comfort themselves and their families. This means more to me than any trinket they could give me. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Mr. FixIt told me last night he didn’t get me anything for Mother’s Day because shopping isn’t the same. And I told him not to buy me flowers. I smiled and said, “I have everything I need for Mother’s Day. I have a great big blended family that gives me great joy.” Besides, I’d rather have kitchen stuff than flowers that wither and die.

I hope you have a wonderful Mother’s Day. And if you are actively grieving, I hope you find some moments of peace and comfort with your memories of your loved one.

❤️

“Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.””
Proverbs 31:25-29 ESV

#MothersDay, #Children, #Holiday

How a National Emergency has Changed our Lives

Tue, 17 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

May we never take things for granted.

Day One:

Slept in.

Read Bible Study, E-mails, FB, and checked blog.

Checked the weather and news online.

Had coffee and breakfast with Mr. FixIt.

Watched two game shows.

Ran to town to get milk & stuff for burgers for dinner. (Hardly anyone in the store. Well stocked.)

Drove to mechanic to check on my truck and get my gun case to bring home.

Got money out of ATM.

Visited with granddaughter and greatgrands.

Took the stitches out of the cat and let her run.

Ate a snack.

Took a nap.

Fixed supper.

Watched The Voice.

Retired to bedroom to write blog.

In other words...the national emergency didn’t change much of anything. Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t have visited with the kids, but they haven’t been anywhere but home because she’s a stay-at-home mom with two babies. At this point though...we have no plans for any kind of gathering...large or small.

After much discussion, we decided to cancel Girl Camper Camper College this weekend. None of us wanted to, but it was the prudent thing to do. We will gather later when things settle back down.

My shout out today is to the grocery store workers. When there were crazed crowds fighting over bundles of toilet paper, the workers kept their cool and plugged right along. Even when they were being yelled at for something that is FAR above their pay grade. I’ve seen videos of people fighting over toilet paper and seen customers screaming at grocery clerks and telling them they hope they die from coronavirus.

Here’s something I have learned from years of therapy. There is a very fine line between anger and fear. People jump into herd mentality, their fear begins to amp, they fight for what they perceive they need...in this case toilet paper. Their reptilian brain is telling them they have to be the alpha dog if they’re going to survive. So they grab the rolls of TP from the little old lady and shove it in their already over-filled cart. Angry. Spit flying. Over toilet paper.

That kind of anger comes from fear. I’ve seen it over and over in my time. Fear comes from being out of control and ill prepared.

I talked to the kids yesterday. I shared what a wonderful opportunity this is to do something amazing that can change the world. This couldn’t have come at a better time. We were beginning to forget what it was really like to be a good human.

Let’s do that...let’s be good humans.

And remember how sweet it feels when we get to do that first thing we didn’t get to do for a while.

May we learn to appreciate what we have.

❤️

“Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching.”
1 Timothy 5:17 ESV

Grief Ghosting: 7 Things That Might Help You Feel Better

Thu, 27 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Being “ghosted” during grief only adds to the pain and loneliness.

Ghosting. It’s really more of a millennial term used when a less than mature individual chooses to end a relationship by simply ceasing all contact with the person they were dating. SO 8th grade. Unfortunately, it also adequately describes what happens when widow(er)s find the people they thought they could count on suddenly nowhere to be found. It’s a thing. It happened to me and I’m sure, grieving or not, it’s happened to you at some point.

The first time I experienced grief ghosting was when I was going through the divorce from Hubby #2. Someone I thought was my absolute bedrock forever and ever BFF just...disappeared. I will have to give her credit for eventually telling me she “chose to surround herself with healthy people so she could no longer be my best friend” so I guess she didn’t totally ghost me. But it was pretty devastating.

In the interest of owning my own “stuff”, I wasn’t being the best of friends to her either. I was seeking information about my estranged husband and calling her about a gazillion times a day after essentially “ghosting” HER as a result of a long term depression. I just kind of popped back in when I came out of it. Like my husband...she had moved on.

I’ve heard from so many people who have been grief ghosted. Whether it’s their siblings or their friends or even their own kids, being “abandoned” in our time of need is pretty darned brutal. It is so easy to get caught up in hurt feelings and angry retribution in times like that. Here are some ways I helped myself get through the secondary grief that came when I was ghosted.

Prayer/Meditation - Learning to seek God for comfort instead of looking for it from other people was a huge awakening for me. Prayer was meditative and allowed me the space to calm down and not be quite so reactionary.
Reading - One of the single most useful books I read in that time after my breakup with Hubby #2 was The Four Agreements by don Miguel Ruiz. Agreement #2 is “Don’t take anything personally.” Nothing anyone does is because of you. It has everything to do with the other person...who they are, where they are in their journey.
Therapy - There’s no shame in talking with a trained professional to gain some perspective on whatever issues you may be facing, no matter how old or “mature” you are. Talk Therapy and EMDR helped me immensely with many aspects and stages of my grief.
Exercise - Getting out and walking every day took my mind off the fact I felt so abandoned, on top of the abandonment of the loss itself. It allowed me to focus on my breathing and feel my body as I moved it. The exercise itself lifted my mood by releasing “feel good hormones” which helped immensely.
Joining In - Joining a walking group (I use 99Walks.fit now for a sense of belonging to a team). Taking a class. Volunteering. Signing up for a Bible Study. Call the local hospital and see if they need volunteer “baby snugglers” or the local animal shelter to see if they need dog walkers. Engaging is far superior than isolating and eating tubs of Ben & Jerry’s.
Forgiving - This is the best thing you could ever do for yourself when you’ve been ghosted. Truly offering forgiveness from your heart helps free you from the extra burden of feeling abandoned by friends or relatives.
Take Names - No, not an accounting of the wrongs being done to you. I’m talking about writing down the names of those people who say “call me”. (If any of them are ghosting you, take their name off the list.) I made sure I rotated through the list so I wasn’t leaning too heavy on any one person and “wearing out my welcome”.

Making new friends isn’t easy, but there are so many ways to do so...even if you can’t get out of the house. Facebook can be a thorn in my side, but there’s a group for everything there. And I’ve found a ton of support on Twitter in a relatively short amount of time. Grief Ghosting isn’t a pleasant experience to be sure. But, fortunately, there are things that can help you work your way through it.

❤️

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 8:38-39 NIV

Meet Me in the Middle

Sun, 16 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Meet me in the middle...privately...not on social media. Let us find our sameness.

I wrote yesterday about life being simpler when we didn’t know what we didn’t know. As I pondered that message, I contemplated how the same sentiment applies to politics. Perhaps the whole nature of the political experience has changed because I’m older and more aware. I know the social fabric of our nation seems to be unraveling at the seams, even though there is still goodness and kindness in the world.

I avoid political discussions on Facebook like the plague. Then I saw something that crushed me. It was a photo of a friend of mine doing something that totally shocked me. No need to go into further details. I was hurt and confused and disappointed. But, instead of instantly lashing out as seems to be the modus operandi anymore, I went into quiet contemplation and talked with God about it.

I’ve been praying a lot about our country and those we elect to represent us. And I’ve been asking God to help us all to meet in the middle...to help me open dialog wherever I can...to separate the politics from the person and see them as fellow citizens and not the enemy. After an hour or so to absorb what I saw, I went back and thanked her for opening the door to polite civil discourse. That is what our country was designed to do.

My country grandma taught me my vote is my own. No one needs to know who you vote for. You owe no one an explanation. Later, my friend and I had a chat privately. We assured each other our love for one another has not changed because of our differing political beliefs. That’s the way it should be. Enough of this “us vs. them” stuff.

Be a GOOD HUMAN first. Then be a Republican or a Democrat or whatever is your leaning. Show some respect. Be honest. Have morals. Value integrity. Show empathy. As I contemplated this, I was led to the following scripture:

“Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I. “If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”
Isaiah 58:9-12 NIV

I shared this with my friend. She will see it through her lens. I will see it through mine. That is the nature of the Bible...it is the living word and speaks to us where we stand. But we met in the middle and held each other in kind regard. There are forces at work on every side trying to divide this country. I am reminded of the phrase... “United we stand, divided we fall.” They weren’t kidding.

As I was writing this, a friend shared a video. A thousand strangers came together at midnight...Christians, Jews, and Muslims. It took them one hour to learn “One Love” by Bob Marley and it’s a beautiful thing to hear. I know we can’t solve the world’s problems sitting around singing songs.

Or can we?

Watch the video here.

❤️

“And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.””
Mark 11:25 NIV

My Love/Hate/Love Relationship with Valentine’s Day

Fri, 14 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Remember the Valentine’s Boxes we made in school? They were such a sign of innocent hope.

I remember so vividly carrying that old shoe box to school. It still smelled of my dad’s leather dress shoes and shoe polish. I carefully covered that box with red construction paper...glueing it down with that gosh awful school paste that smelled earthy and damp. (Admit it...you tasted it at least once, didn’t you?) It was so thick and wet it made the construction paper lump up and curl but I kept pressing it and flattening it with my little girl fingers.

A valentine box was a symbol of pure hope. Wishful thinking. My mom took me to the store and I carefully perused the shelves till I found the perfect box. We made absolutely certain there were enough cards so everyone would get one. Then, I took my No. 2 pencil and the list of my classmate’s names, and carefully wrote “To:” and their name then “From:” and my name...in cursive. Then I put each card in an envelope, sealed it with a little heart sticker and again wrote the person’s name on the front. It took a long time.

When the big day came, we took our little lunch sacks with the valentines in them and dropped them in the appropriate personalized boxes. Some were elaborately decorated with lacy paper doilies and red foil hearts. Others had scribbled flowers and X’s and O’s and “Happy Valentine’s Day” on them. When we were finished distributing our cards, we were invited to take our boxes back to our seats. I will never ever forget that one teacher who actually had us COUNT our valentines out and the child who got the most got a chocolate bar.

It was the very first time I realized there were differences between us.

Up till then, we were all just classmates. We had little groups and some got chosen and some didn’t but eventually EVERYONE got a chance...didn’t they? Well...apparently not. In that moment, when the pretty little blond girl proudly walked up to get her chocolate bar, 22 pairs of little eyes bore daggers in her back as she waltzed forward. I was inwardly devastated. As much for the others who didn’t get a candy bar as I was for myself. And...I was disillusioned. I had just witnessed unfairness in the world firsthand and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

From then on, I had a Love/Hate relationship with Valentine’s Day. I could not help myself...I counted every one. I was painfully aware my number was lower and I used that as a yardstick to measure where I stood in the social hierarchy. Eventually, I grew up. I embraced the day with a great sense of relief when we no longer made the Valentine Boxes. We no longer “voted for the most popular kid” with little heart-shaped ballots. That was all done in other, ever so much more sophisticated ways as we got older.

I didn’t have enough Valentine’s Days with Hubby #1 to remember and it was so, so long ago. I do remember too many unobserved holidays and events with Hubby #2 because he was too busy to get me something. Those things stung...not because I couldn’t understand why. After all, he was in medical school and residency and practice and he really WAS busy. No, those things stung because of unhealed and unforgiven injuries to my inner little girl and he just added to the pile of hurts. It was simply another thing to discuss and resolve in therapy...small potatoes comparatively.

When Mr. Virgo arrived, he came with the gushy cards and the cakes and candies and always, always flowers....usually a beautiful orchid so it would last longer. He was intuitive and surprisingly skilled at healing my wounded psyche with sweet words on brightly colored paper. I remember a year or so after he died and I was downsizing, I came across a sticky note on which he’d written “Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby Doll!” I still have that somewhere, along with all the gushy cards. When he died, I knew it was the end of the line for the hearts and flowers of Valentine’s Day.

Then...miracle of miracles...along came Mr. FixIt. A man who obviously takes his time in the greeting card aisle, choosing the perfect sentiment. Flowers in hand. A warm hug. A gift from God. My heart soars.

I know how blessed I am. I remember the pain. I remember the devastation of loss. I remember hating the day because it just emphasized what I no longer had. I wanted to slap the happy people. And now, I am keenly aware there are no promises of another tomorrow. However, we do have today. Life is an intricate, delicate dance we practice every day. Sometimes we step on each other’s toes. Other times...we tango.

❤️

“And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.””
mark 11:25 NIV

When Kindness Matters Most

Sat, 30 Nov 2019 02:30:32 -0600

“Kindness Matters Most…especially when it involves children.”

My dear friend Diane sent me a link to an article in the New York Times yesterday. It was a story about the new mayor of Charleston and how she barked up the wrong tree. It seems, in an effort to be inclusive and considerate of the Muslim and Jewish population in our state’s capital, she decided to rename the Christmas Parade. She announced on a Facebook post that the Winter Parade would be on such and such a date…and thus began a civil uprising. Well, maybe uncivil is a more appropriate description.

I understand what she was trying to do. And I appreciate it. Having lived 27 years as a practicing Jew in a small town and watching discrimination at work was an eye opening experience for me. It gave me a much deeper appreciation for what some people go through on a daily basis in this world.

The mayor was attacked from all sides and had very few backers. Part of it was the way she went about it…making a unilateral decision without consulting anyone. But the biggest part was the way the world is now. I could have been a mediator by profession because I can easily see both sides of this issue. People were feeling attacked and that, in the spirit of political correctness, they felt the mayor was trying to steal Christmas. When, in actuality, she was just trying to be kind to everyone in the community.

As I read the comments to the story, several of them were from minorities saying they never felt they were “less than” or “excluded” because of Christmas celebrations. While they didn’t observe the holiday themselves, they never felt threatened by other people celebrating. I remember talking to a Rabbi once and asked him what he would do regarding my children’s participation in these programs. He said “Lip synch the words to the religious songs and belt out the secular ones. There is a lot of beautiful music in the Christian faith. I think it’s very important that we don’t try to dilute anyone’s holiday.” That made a lot of sense to me.

This story brings to mind something that happened to me when I lived in that small mountain town in Colorado. Hubby #2 was a new physician and we had only lived in town a few years. One Christmas, a couple of things came to a head that are very similar to what happened in Charleston this month.

First, the wife of one of my husband’s colleagues was Jewish and she had two sons in the public grade school. There was no mention in the curriculum of any holidays besides Christian ones. She wanted the children to have a greater world view and asked if she could form an ad hoc committee to explore how to go about broadening the horizons without stepping on anyone’s toes. Even though my younger daughter was only a baby at the time, I knew she would be going to the same school in a few years so I said yes when I was asked to join.

We held meetings with the school board. We offered to provide children’s books for the school library with stories about Chanukah and Passover. We volunteered to come into the classes during story time and share traditional foods of other cultures. And, we asked that the school program in December be renamed the Winter Festival. That’s where we ran into road blocks and it got ugly…fast. Our mayor hung a banner across the Main Street through town claiming that “The heathens are trying to steal Christmas from our children! Don’t let that happen!” Those were the exact words. Heathens.

In the historical context, the word heathen means “an individual or a people that do not acknowledge the God of the Bible; a person who is neither a Jew, Christian, nor Muslim; a pagan.” We certainly were NOT heathens and it was a blatant slur…not the least of the discriminatory experiences I encountered in my years as a member of the Jewish community.

Our little mountain town was formed by a large ranching and mining community. There were two black children, a handful of Hispanic children, and no Asians the year my daughter started 7th grade. We had relocated there from Denver where my daughter was in a tri-lingual classroom…English, Spanish, and Vietnamese. Her school was a cross section of humanity and she was dumbfounded by the “white bread” community she found herself living in. Every holiday, a large cross was lit on the top of a mountain within view of the whole town, reminding everyone that that “we celebrate Christmas in this town.”

At the same time the banner went up across the Main Street and the cross was lit on the hill, we found out that the cross was on city property and the electricity was being paid for with tax money. This is where I had a problem. I can educate. I can buy books and bake cookies till the cows come home, but there is a separation of church and state in this country and the founding fathers made it that way on purpose. I believe in honoring that and if I would have been Christian at the time, I still would have believed in that.

Then, things shifted in town. It turns out the ACLU got wind of the situation and put the town on notice they would be taken to court if they didn’t make other arrangements for the cross on the hill. A citizen donated a piece of land up higher than the original location, and a new and larger cross was erected. Every year, a collection takes place to pay for the electricity and upkeep of the cross. I was thrilled with that because it was not only even more beautiful than before, it now complied with the law.

As time went on, some things in town got better, but there was still an undercurrent of anti-Semitism. When Daughter #2, who was just a baby when this all went down, was in high school, she was bullied and called a “stupid, effing Jew” among other derogatory comments. I went to the administration but the bullying continued and we finally determined she would be happier at the alternative high school.

She is doing well now. She is 29 and married. But she carries the emotional scars from her experiences. This is why I am sensitive to all people. This is why I don’t want the little Jehovah’s Witness children to have to sit in the cafeteria, ostracized by their peers because of their beliefs. I want the little Jewish children to be included in the holiday extravaganza because they have a holiday to celebrate, too. I don’t want any child to feel left out.

I don’t know what the answer is for you. All I know is, I personally know what discrimination feels like. And I know what it feels like to hold your child in your arms when she’s been crushed by bullies. Therefore, I say “Happy Holidays” if I am not sure of the person’s beliefs. I don’t care if someone says Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas to me. I am not insulted. Why would I be? It’s a blessing when someone wishes you well. I’ll take that any day of the week over some of the terrible things people feel free to say to each other these days. Because…kindness matters.

❤️

#KindnessMatters, #Discrimination, #HappyHolidays

“For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.”
2 Peter 1:5-9 NIV

Tuesday Truth: When You CAN...Step Away

Tue, 26 Nov 2019 02:30:07 -0600

“It’s OK to step away!”

Do you have trouble stepping away from toxic relationships? Do you find you are people pleasing yourself into a corner? Are you feeling pressed into doing traditional holiday things even though you would rather not? Or maybe you just can’t face your ____________ (insert relative/friend here) this year…or ANY year? Well, I’m going to do something here…pay very close attention.

Step away.

If you need “permission” then, here…I’m giving you permission.

Holidays can be especially difficult if you’re grieving. Or if you have underlying health issues. Or, you know…if you happen to be human. If you are over the age of consent, holidays can be much more painful than they are pleasurable.

For the last month, I’ve been really looking forward to going over to my cousin’s house for Thanksgiving. I don’t get to see her nearly often enough and this year it was for a very brief visit last month. I love to go and stay over a couple of days, but circumstances change. There are health issues with some of the older generation over there. Last year we left here early Thanksgiving morning, drove over, discovered my aunt had fallen and she and my uncle couldn’t attend dinner, so Mr. FixIt and I packed up a dinner for them and drove it to his house. This added another hour of driving…each way. Then, after our Thanksgiving meal back at my cousin’s house, we got in the tuck and drove home. It made for a very long day and was not relaxing nor fun even though it was great to see everyone.

When I returned on Halloween from the six week camping excursion with the rpod and discovered we had a new kitten, everything changed. Now there are no more impromptu trips and I am not up for a drive-by. I took the self-care approach and opted out. Now we can work hard to finish the back bathroom this week and get the sink, toilet, and shower stall out of our living room in time for our family gathering on Sunday.

Sometimes it’s a sibling. Or an aging parent. You may feel guilty for stepping away, but as I tell you so often, you cannot fill someone else with an empty cup. WE are no good to anyone, including ourselves, if we continue putting ourselves in situations that are toxic and abusive.

I know, I know…there are times when you may be the only one that person has. There may be situations where you are a caregiver and there IS no other option. If you feel stuck…it’s ok to look for options. It’s ok to step away and take care of yourself. It’s ok to stay home and eat a hotdog for Thanksgiving if that will give you more peace. Surround yourself with the people who love you and lift you up and celebrate you if that’s what you want to do. But…give yourself permission to stay home if you need to. It’s ok.

❤️

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV

Date Night at Rural King

Fri, 15 Nov 2019 02:30:39 -0600

“What a beautiful night for a date at Rural King…my favorite farm store!”

A couple of days ago, Mr. FixIt needed to go into town to get a special drill bit. He’s back to working on our master bath! We have to fit in home jobs when the grass isn’t growing and he’s finished with all the outside jobs he does. When the weather turned cold, I came in off the road from my camping tour and we set to doing the things around here that have been put on hold.

The big outside job Mr. FixIt has been working on is the huge covered front porch he built on the front of his ex-wife’s house. One of my bonus granddaughters told me there are people who don’t understand how I’m ok with that. Well, first off…she’s paying him, so it’s a job. But, beyond that, why on earth would I, or SHOULD I be upset by that?

She is the mother of his children. They share grandchildren and great grandchildren. She’s a wonderful person and I just love her. Our granddaughter told the person she was talking to that she thinks it’s awesome that we all get along and talk to each other. It makes it so much easier for the family if they aren’t being torn by split loyalties. Couples may divorce. But you don’t divorce your family. And as far as I’m concerned, we are all family.

Anyway, he’s finished with all but just a little touch up over there and that has to wait till spring for good weather. And now we’re focused on getting things done at home. That prompted the trip to town. He asked if I wanted to ride along with him. Listen, this man knows me. He didn’t have to ask twice to get me to go to Rural King and Lowe’s.

I love home improvement stores and farm stores. I needed to get a heated water dish for the kitten just to make sure she always has fresh water available. Rural King has them…AND free popcorn! As we came out of the store, the entire sky was bright pink all the way around us. It was like being inside a big pink bubble. I love the sunsets at this time of year. They seem to be so vibrant. After the fun stops, we went to our favorite pizza place…Pete’s Pizza. Honestly…the best pizza I think I have ever had comes out of this little family owned restaurant in Mineral Wells, WV.

I went to the farm yesterday to make sure all is well. I unplugged the pump in case the gas should go off and a pipe should freeze and burst. Wouldn’t want to flood the basement and burn out the pump. This cold spell has kept the Asian Lady Beetles at bay and I only swept up about a half a cup of them this time. I still haven’t been brave enough to go upstairs to look.

When I went into the cellar house to unplug the pump, I saw there was a lot of white, hairy mold growing on the wood of the old potato bin. The cellar house is no longer water tight so it’s always damp in there. Next summer, when we have a dry spell, we need to open up that door and air it out. I also need to spray the mold with a bleach solution, I think. I will do some research on that. It isn’t the black mold that is so toxic. Maybe I’ll take the dehumidifier from the bathroom and put it out there for the winter. That would solve two problems. First, it would decrease the humidity. But a dehumidifier also puts off a fair amount of heat…enough to keep the pipes on the pump from freezing when we get a REALLY cold snap.

When you live in the country, and you have an endless list of chores that need doing, you have to find your date nights where you can get them. Mr. FixIt is a lucky man…I like hardware, power tools…and pizza!

❤️

“The Lord will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. The Lord your God will bless you in the land he is giving you.”
Deuteronomy 28:8 NIV

Basking in the Glow of Family

Sat, 03 Aug 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“The sun goes down on the evening before my baby’s wedding. My heart is full!”

Last night was amazing. Every fear and trepidation I had beforehand dissipated as soon as we pulled into the driveway at Hubby #2’s house. He was so gracious, as was his wife. Their house is stunning. Their dogs are the sweetest things. Daughter #1 and her family were there when we arrived and soon after, my sister- and brother-in-law arrived from Utah. Oh, my gosh! It was so exciting to see them all!

Just before dinner, my daughter and her fiancée arrived and we were a complete family. My brother enjoyed everyone and joined in the conversations. It really was perfect. What I learned from this: When you hand things over to God to take care of…you have to let go of it. I knew as I was driving over from Glenwood Springs…this was going to be good. This was going to be very, very good.

After dinner, Daughter #2 came to me and said, “Mama…I have something for you to do tomorrow. You’re in charge of this…and making sure he has a seat at my wedding.”

With that she handed me a framed photo of Mr. Virgo. She was very close to her stepfather and losing him was so hard on her. The suddenness of seeing his smiling face…so totally unexpected…took my breath away and I started crying. I wasn’t the only one. It was a very special moment and it still makes me tearful as I write this. What a beautiful gesture…what a beautiful God moment….what love…what treasures I have in this family.

My baby is getting married today. My heart is so full! Thank you Jesus for every gift you have given me in this life!

❤️

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned.”
Song of Songs 8:6-7 NIV

No Worse for the Wear

Fri, 02 Aug 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“While once sleek and shiny, these vehicles still hold a deep beauty.”

We left Ridgway yesterday saying goodbye to our friends, Linda and Jim. We both choked up…goodbyes have always been difficult for me ever since I lost Mr. Virgo. We just don’t know if and when we will meet again and it tears at my heartstrings. I know Linda loves Colorado, but deep down, she has that Ohio farm girl in there somewhere. I loved watching her as she listened to Mr. FixIt’s unmistakable West Virginia accent and she was transported back over the years and the miles to the home of her youth.

Even though we didn’t go to the same high school with Linda, we know many of the same people…one of whom is Jeff. He and his wife Julie moved to the Ridgway area a couple of years ago. It’s funny how the webs of friendship cross over. Linda and Jeff were both friends with Cindy (a girl from my class) and that’s how they connected. I am friends with Cindy and that’s how Linda connected with me and the connection with Jeff was made through Linda and because he was on the boy’s gymnastics team while I competed with the girl’s team the same year. And….Mr. FixIt was on that same team with Jeff! See what a teeny tiny world it is? Jeff and Julie joined us for dinner at Linda’s Wednesday night. Mr. FixIt hadn’t seen Jeff in forty-eight years. There were lots of stories and laughs and we all had a grand time.

We drove north out of Ridgway, through Montrose and Olathe (home of Olathe Sweet Corn) and on to Delta. I kept my eyes peeled for a place I found when I was on “The Grand Adventure”…that three month odyssey into the wilderness and backroads after Mr. Virgo died. It’s just a vacant lot on the main drag that’s filled with old, broken down cars and trucks. I don’t know why it attracted me that first time, but I couldn’t wait to show Mr. FixIt.

We were almost to our turnoff to head east over McClure Pass when I saw them. Red vehicles…either from the faded and flaked paint or the rust beneath. Some had their hoods strapped down. Others had holes in the glass from years of being the target of vandals or the errant stone thrown back in the day when they motored down the highways of old. Mr. FixIt caught his breath.

“Oh, wow! Would you look at that!” A smile crept across his face and his eyes sparkled like a little boy who just found the coolest treasure stuck on a dusty shelf. I immediately pulled over and threw the truck in park. We jumped out and walked up and down the rows of derelict automobiles resting on their rims because of long ago rotted and airless tires. We peeked in through hazy windows at the scraps of stuffing clinging to the old and rusted springs of the seats inside.

“Oh, look! Is that a Nash? A Studebaker? What’s this one? Ford used to make a Cortina. Do you suppose that’s what this one is?” This went on and on as we dodged the large mud holes formed from the afternoon storms we’ve been getting and made our way through the maze of cars.

As I looked at these rusted out hulks, I thought about beauty being in the eye of the beholder. I have to be perfectly honest…I’ve had some trepidation about the wedding this weekend. My daughter’s dad lives in a world I no longer belong to. He’s a doctor, and consequently lives like a doctor in a fine house. With fine friends. And a fine wife. Fine furnishings. Fine food. A fine life. I used to circle in that orbit, although I never really felt a part of that world, although I tried very hard to make myself fit in.

I have to admit. I’ve let myself be a little self conscious about my comfortable tummy and my jelly thighs and my granny-wing upper arms knowing ever so painfully how that was judged by those in that orbit. I’ve been praying about it a lot. And God whispered to me as I wandered amongst these vehicles what were once sleek and shiny and new.

“You don’t have to fear that world. You don’t have to feel bad for the way you fit in your body all comfy-like. You don’t have to concern yourself with what anyone else thinks of you….just remember I love you. Completely. Just the way you are. Just love them all the way I love you.”

You see…the very act of feeling self conscious and judged puts me in a place where I’m being the judge. I don’t know what’s in their hearts and minds. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since those days so long ago when I circled around that orbit. It’s a foreign land to me now. I have no reason to feel “less than” anyone. I can walk right in, on the arm of a man I adore and who adores me right back. We’ve created a life that fits us perfectly and we’re perfectly happy.

It’s all about love, trust, letting go, and letting God take care of the details. I’m comfortable in this life, this body…no matter where I go or who I run into. None of this is about me anyway. It’s totally about my daughter and her joy anyway. Yes…it’s all about love!

❤️

“Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be angry beyond measure, Lord; do not remember our sins forever. Oh, look on us, we pray, for we are all your people.” Isaiah 64:8-9 NIV

Abundance

Mon, 29 Jul 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Heading into the Weminuche Wilderness”

Joyful abundance! Mr. FixIt is such a great traveler. I love showing him places he hasn’t seen. As a matter of fact, he told me the other night his neck hurts from swiveling back and forth, trying to take it all in. We arrived in Pagosa Springs on Friday afternoon. This is where Mr. Virgo and I lived in 2008. He was the General Manager for a 4200 acre luxury resort here and I did the marketing and catering. It was a short-lived position as our job was to try to turn their losses into profits and try as we might, it was not to be. This is the nature of being a fixer. If you can’t, they close and you lose your job. If you can, they sell and you lose your job. We didn’t really expect to be there long term.

Pagosa Springs is a gorgeous area and I enjoyed the rugged beauty of it. I did not like the short summer, long winter, and gobs of snow. So I was just as happy to get out of there and move on. Still, it is someplace I wanted Mr. FixIt to see and experience. We went out for a wonderful breakfast yesterday morning then headed to the backroads. Mr. Virgo and I used to spend every day off exploring the many dirt roads in the Weminuche Wilderness. This is where I came when I started my grief journey in Little TOW-Wanda. I carried strands of Mr. Virgo’s silver hair into the dense woods above Williams Lake and buried them at the base of a tree, affixing a cross to mark the spot.

We didn’t walk back into the woods yesterday. That wasn’t part of the deal. That was mine…my memory. As a matter of fact, as we drove deeper and deeper into the woods, I felt Mr. Virgo so strongly…as if he were gliding along with us. I told Mr. FixIt story after story. Here’s where we worked. Here’s where we shopped. Here’s where we loved to eat dinner. There’s the car wash where they had to unfreeze the doors so we could get out. That little bakery has the best pastries. This restaurant has the best coffee. My sweet husband held my hand and smiled and nodded and encouraged me to share because he knows this helps me heal and move forward.

Then…in the middle of the afternoon, we found out…great grandchild #3 is on the way!!! Another little boy…arriving in January!!!

My heart is about to explode! THIS!!! This is what I so very nearly lost in January 2000 when I overdosed. At the time, my world was so small, so dark, so difficult and I couldn’t see anything beyond that darkness. And now…look at this! My world is so blessed with such abundance and joy, I can hardly contain myself! Babies! The Wedding! My sweet husband! My wonderful family! My health! My heart!

Thank you…..thank you dearest Heavenly Father…for healing my family…for healing me…for giving me Mr. Virgo to show me I was worthy of earthly love…for giving me Mr. FixIt for helping me through the most difficult period of my life…and for this tremendous family, mine and his, that brings our numbers up and up and up! I’m so high on life, you have to scrape me off the clouds!

❤️

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV

Revisiting Memories

Sat, 13 Jul 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Daughter #2…Marching to her own drum!”

When Daughter #2 was thirteen years old, she and I took off for a three week road trip. It was epic. She was not only in that early teenager mode. We were also working on repairing the damage done from years of depression and too many prescriptions and martinis…not to mention the overdose. It took a lot out of our relationship.

When I arrived in Denver this visit, the ultimate goal is the wedding. My baby is getting married. My little Moon Pie. Only, she’s a full grown woman…out on her own…thriving…dancing to her own drum, as always. We saw each other the day after I got here and spent several hours visiting and dining out. She made me promise we would do one special thing…just the two of us…before the wedding.

She wanted to go antiquing.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Antiquing? This poor kid was dragged, kicking and screaming, into every antique store in West Virginia, I think. And several between there and Colorado. I loved going to antique stores. She did not. So, this was new. I asked her what brought on this miraculous transformation.

“I don’t know. Just…suddenly, I find myself looking at antiques online. For fun.”

Ladies and gentleman…there IS life after adolescence!!!

So, yesterday was our antiquing adventure. We started out by having lunch with Daughter #1, Big, and Little. Oh…if you have children, you know what that did to my heart…sitting there with my Colorado kids! ❤️melt After lunch, Daughter #2 and I went to the Brass Armadillo off I-70 and Kipling.

We walked in and she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

“This place is HUGE!”

Yes, my girl…it is!

We wandered around for three hours. She kept grabbing my arm and pulling me over to see this or that. Lots of oooohs and aaaahs and wows. Several times she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight and thanked me so much for doing this with her. That’s when I realized…this was SO much more than going to see a bunch of old stuff.

This was a celebration. Of healing. Of love. Of warm memories shared. Even of forgiveness. This was a bonding ritual…something only she and I could share as the wedding rapidly approaches and her life is forever changed. This was incredibly special. And we enjoyed every minute of it.

We didn’t get to see 1/4th of the store before we were both fried. We left arm in arm and headed out to the truck. I drove her back to her car. As she prepared to leave she reached over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you, mamacita. That was so much fun!”

You’re welcome, Moon Pie.

❤️

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.”
Psalm 127:3 NIV

Hail, Hail...The Gang’s All Here!

Fri, 05 Jul 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“The beauty of sunshine and lilies.”

Daughter #2 and I got a chance to spend a few hours together yesterday. We had coffee at the house then went shopping at Target. Man, that store has changed since the last time I went there. I used to shop Target all the time, but we don’t have one anywhere near where we live in West Virginia. After shopping at Walmart all these years, Target looks like an upscale department store.

We went out to breakfast at Sam’s No. 3…a wonderful diner in Cherry Creek that has the most extensive menu I think I have ever seen. Eggs Benedict was my choice yesterday and it was divine. If you ever go to Denver and get to spend any time there, you really should go.

We had a big family gathering with those who were in town yesterday. Lots of food and homemade ice cream. The fireworks were going off all around us. And Mother Nature provided some of her own! We had two big storms blow through with a tornado watch and lots of hail. It did succeed in cooling things off immensely, which was very nice.

I showed the girls the dresses I’ve bought that I could wear to the wedding and we all agreed on one. Also, I gave them the quilt I made for their wedding gift and they loved it! It was a beautiful day with my Colorado family.

❤️

“Listen to your father, who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old.”
Proverbs 23:22 NIV

The Mother-Daughter Dance

Tue, 02 Jul 2019 01:30:51 -0600

“I am a Happy Camper!”

I danced with my mother. Not literally…but figuratively we went round and round and round. She always knew I loved her and I knew she loved me right back. I made sure of that. But we aggravated the heck out of each other more than I care to admit. We were still moving in that circle when she died rather suddenly at the age of seventy-eight. By that time, my own daughters were well on their way to dancing with me.

My older daughter was very pregnant with my mother’s first great-grandchild and couldn’t come to her grandma’s funeral. I didn’t bring my younger daughter either because she was only nine and in school. I traveled to mom’s funeral alone half the way, meeting up with my Aunt Rosie in the Charlotte Airport for the last flight in.

I have good girls. They are as different as night and day and are often like oil and water, but deep down they love each other because they are sisters. I wasn’t always a very good mother to them. There was that long stretch when I was deeply depressed and nearly non-functional. I drank too much and I took too many prescription drugs. When I overdosed, it ripped the fabric of our relationship and I feared I would never, ever get them back.

We danced our own dance. We went round and round and we didn’t know how to reach each other. I hurt them in ways I couldn’t even begin to fathom till I got well. Then I had to rebuild their trust in me. It was hard, painful work. There were times I was absolutely certain they hated me. But they didn’t really. I wasn’t the only one who had to learn who this new version of me was.

I watch Daughter #1 with her kids. I watch her face some of the same issues I faced and she handles them so much better than I did because she has a wonderful, stable marriage she isn’t also struggling to fix. I love watching her with the girls. Big is learning to drive. She is tall and athletic…a swimmer. She is bright and accomplished and dedicated. Little is part mini-me…part mini-mom. She is petite and eclectic…artistic and sensitive…bright and compassionate. She is a little shooting star.

Last night, I sat at swim practice with Daughter #1 and talked for a couple of hours. It was the first time in a long time that I felt like I didn’t have to hold my breath out of fear I’d say or do the wrong thing and not be the mom I should be. That is baggage I am happy to set down. I knitted while we chatted. There was a warm, easy acceptance that flowed between us and I realized I could relax now. We’re ok. It was a long storm, but we weathered it. We’re better with each other. My heart felt full.

Her kids are older now. She’s had some experience with life that she hadn’t had back when I let them down. I think she gets me a little better these days. We’re all a little older, a little wiser, a little softer. I think now, our dance is sweeter.

❤️

“"Behold, everyone who uses proverbs will use this proverb about you: 'Like mother, like daughter.'” Ezekiel 16:44 ESV

Finding my Father

Wed, 05 Jun 2019 01:30:35 -0600

“I don’t remember having a loving relationship with my dad…ever.”

Father’s Day is coming soon. I don’t remember ever seeing a photo of my dad holding me. I don’t remember him offering his hand to help me walk. I don’t recall any kissed booboos or falling asleep in his lap. I do remember him bouncing my brother and me on his knees to the tune of Bonanza when it aired on Sunday nights. I remember watching fireworks from the car three blocks away from the park. I remember going fishing with him…once. I wouldn’t touch the worm. He was done.

My relationship with my dad was complicated. Like every little girl, I sought his approval. It never came. I sought his love. He didn’t know how to give it. He never saw me sing on stage. He never watched me perform on the balance beam. As my brother and I aged, Dad became more and more lost in a bottle of Four Roses.

By the time I was an antagonistic teenager, our relationship had devolved into angry shouting matches and stony silence. He became “the man who lived upstairs”. I married and left home with the first boy who would have me and I didn’t look back. By the time I was twenty-one, to my mother’s great relief, they were divorced.

Dad went back to his roots and moved into a trailer on his sister’s farm. As a widow, she was extremely careful of her reputation and when dad had to be driven home from the bar one night, she stormed into his trailer the next morning and struck him on the bottom of the feet with an iron skillet. She informed him there would never be another incident like that or he would find himself out on his ear. He ended up going on the wagon and found Jesus and married a childhood friend.

I never really knew that man…the one all my cousins knew. The one all the town knew. The one who went to church every Sunday and became the model citizen…to everyone outside. But inside? Our relationship stayed exactly the same. His modus operandi was “blame and shame”. I tried. Lord knows I tried to have a relationship with him. But, in order to do that, I needed to talk about what had happened and he wasn’t interested.

If he would have just once said “I’m sorry, Sis.” Oh, I learned to forgive him because he did what he knew, but that apology would have gone a long way toward mending my broken heart. Instead, I married father replacements. First, the stern disciplinarian. Then the busy doctor who couldn’t express his true feelings. Then Mr. Virgo came along and healed that spot in my heart that needed to know I was loved and cherished and….wanted.

Still, I remember my therapist telling me one time, “You know, Ginny…you’re never going to find your father’s love.” I was bereft. It was as if the final page was read and the book snapped shut. The End!

What do I do now?

I went on. I put a bandaid over the spot where I wanted dad-memories in my heart and went on. After all, I was an adult. I was functioning as best I could with what I had to work with. It was ok, I said to myself. I don’t need a father. I don’t need anybody. Mr. Virgo was the only man I really let in and even he didn’t get to see every room.

Then…my dad died.

Then…Mr. Virgo died.

I was never, ever going to feel that unconditional love again.

I was wrong. I found love again…deep, true, lasting love with Mr. FixIt. And, I was a Christian. I had God. He was my Heavenly Father…but, I still wanted a DAD!

This has been on my heart a lot in the last few weeks. And, just like clockwork, here came the Holy Spirit to minister to that sore place within me. Recently, every sermon has been some variation of this theme.

“Your dad wasn’t there for you. It’s ok. You don’t need him. He was here to do what only he could do and it hurt. But here….I’ve got some really great news for you.

“God IS your dad! He loves you…absolutely…unconditionally. He CRAVES when you come sit with him and lay your head on his shoulder. He WANTS you to take his hand and walk with him. He LOVES it when you talk to him and tell him how your day went and share worries of your mind. He DESIRES you to trust him like the dad that he is. He NEEDS you to know he isn’t ever going to leave you….not ever!”

Wow! How awesome is that? Knowing this…I mean really deep down in my bones KNOWING this…has healed some place deep inside my heart. I don’t have to look for my dad anywhere but up. When I want to hear him talking to me, I read the words he left for me to follow. When I don’t please him, he lets me know. The most important thing he wants me to know is I am the joy of his heart. The object of his greatest longing.

Finally….finally I found my father….in my Father.

❤️

“The same way a loving father feels toward his children— that’s but a sample of your tender feelings toward us, your beloved children, who live in awe of you.” Psalms 103:13 TPT

Wascally Wabbits!

Thu, 23 May 2019 01:30:35 -0600

“Mr. FixIt…working in the garden.”

Mr. FixIt came to me the other morning with a dejected sigh.

“Something ate the beans.”

Again? Hmpffff! Don’t they know that little piece of ground is OURS??? They have five acres. I just want this little patch. Yeah…not likely. We used the rabbit deterrent faithfully…until, we didn’t. All it took was one little rain and one lapse of memory and…poof! No more beans. I think it is the rabbits. But it could be that little chipmunk. Or deer. Or…whatever. The point is…unless you put some sort of protective fencing or netting or both around your garden, you cannot expect to provide a salad bar without getting dinner guests.

That’s ok. We still have the tomatoes. Plenty of tomatoes!!! We had twelve tomato plants and one mysteriously disappeared. No footprints. No trace…just gone. So, we are left with eleven tomato plants and a couple dozen onions. We’re good.

I went to the farm yesterday to get the shades from the big camper. For those of you who have been around for the long haul, you will remember the first thing I did when I bought that camper was take those hideous window coverings off. If I’m going to sell the camper, I need to put them back. While I was there, I did the last load of laundry and gathered some camping items I will need in a couple of weeks when we go to Blackwater Falls with the Girl Campers. That’s one thing I like about Girl Campers…you can bring your hubby if you like. We just ask that they do something on their own while we’re there so we can have our girl time. Mr. FixIt is taking his golf clubs.

I’m taking the ice cream freezer. There is something so special about homemade ice cream when you’re camping. I also brought the screen house. The mosquitoes will be making an appearance before long and some people are more susceptible to bites than others. I want to make sure everyone is comfortable and has a place to sit out of the rain if need be.

When I got home, Mr. FixIt had a table saw on the back of the truck that needed to be unloaded. It was way too heavy to pick up but we used our brains over our brawn and tipped it onto a dolly and down the ramps into the garage. Perfect! Just as we were done, the former Mrs. FixIt came over to pick up a tent to go camping. I really like her and we sat for four hours visiting. Then my bonus granddaughter and the baby came over with ice cream. It was such a beautiful day!

I love that we can demonstrate for the younger generations that the family relationship doesn’t have to end with divorce. We just open our hearts more and let in love and healing.

❤️

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” Psalm 133:1 NIV

Unbeatable Laughter...Unbearable Tears

Sat, 04 May 2019 01:30:38 -0600

“Chocolate cake pops aren’t the most delectable looking things till they get their pretty candy coating.”

The last couple of days were an incredible jumble of extreme emotions. First, we had an intense discussion about the impact of addiction in this area and on our lives. It was deeply personal and what is said in the room, stays in the room. Suffice it to say, I could not wait to get out and call my daughters and thank them for never going down that particular path. As I left messages for them…(who’s kid ever answers the phone these days?)…I broke down in tears. Because…instead of my kids being addicted…it had been me when they were growing up. I hate that I exposed them to opioid and alcohol abuse and the aftermath it caused. But, what the enemy tried to kill, God has used to our good and His glory.

Later in the evening, Daughter #1 called me back. I adore both of my girls and they couldn’t be more different. My firstborn has always been the strong, dependable kid who turned into a wonderful woman and an excellent mother, but she’s not a terribly demonstrative person. She is a little crusty on the outside but soft in the center but she’d rather chew off her arm than show it. When I answered the phone, I could hear that slightly vulnerable tenderness in her voice that I so seldom get to hear and my heart melted.

She went on to regale me with a story about her evening. It seems HER firstborn informed her earlier in the week that she needed cake pops for a going away party for one of her friends. She needed them yesterday. And…she wanted them shaped like pineapples for some reason. Now, Daughter #1 is highly creative, and an incredible teacher, but she was not particularly crafty or interested in baking when she was young. It’s amazing what we do for our kids, isn’t it?

She looked up how to make cake pops on YouTube and Pinterest. She e-mailed her principal who makes cake pops for stress relief. She found out that…surprise, surprise…cake pops are not baked in molds with sticks in them and then dipped in frosting. Actually, you bake the cake, let it cool, crumble it up very fine, then mix in a little bit of frosting. Just enough to work it together into a ball but not enough to get it wet. I had no idea!

Since my granddaughter asked for chocolate, my daughter baked two layers of chocolate cake. Then she used a small ice cream scoop to make balls of the dough and rolled them into a slightly oblong egg shape to represent little pineapples. Then she stuck sticks in them that had been dipped in the melted candy coating so they would stick. At this point, it struck her what her little creations actually LOOKED like and she had to send me pictures. We laughed til we cried. It was so delightful. I was so proud of her…for everything. Being a good kid and a great mom. For having a sense of humor. For loving me so much, even though I make her crazy half the time and she can’t let me know either way.

Then, yesterday, one of my mom’s cousins texted to tell me another cousin in Illinois passed away on Sunday. That made me sad because I just loved Betty Mae. When she and her family came to West Virginia to visit my grandma, it was an EVENT, I’m telling you. I sent a potted plant with a note and then called my aunt and uncle to make sure they knew.

Remember I told you I made the difficult decision to not go to my niece’s graduation in Indiana? Well, I found out the graduation is outside today…in the rain…in Indiana…in tornado season. They’re giving them ponchos to wear. Oy! That’s not why God prompted me to cancel, though. Mr. FixIt was driving home yesterday and he got the strongest urge to call his best friend. When he did, his friend was crying because his wife had just passed away. His friend is going to need him here and I am so grateful I listened to the whispers of the Holy Spirit telling me not to go!

The camper is almost ready for my big camping trip next week. I installed a new smoke detector yesterday, packed some things in the overhead cabinets over the dinette, added deodorizer to the tanks, and swept the floors. There were a couple of very small holes on the wall where I removed some curtain hardware so I filled them with a little caulking. I tried putting the quilts that I wanted to use on the bed but they are too small for the queen bed. That’s ok…I’ll use the all white quilt I used in big TOW-Wanda and just fold the extra quilts at the bottom of the bed for decoration. The only thing left to do is wash the floors and windows, lay down the rugs, take out the trash, and finish packing. It’s supposed to storm all day today, so I can get in there and play…and maybe we’ll camp in the driveway tonight!

❤️

“So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 8:15 NIV
“‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”” Revelation 21:4 NIV

Darkness into Light

Sun, 14 Apr 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“Looking back, I am humbled by my deliverance.”

The stress of doing taxes this week made me sit back and reflect how differently I cope now as opposed to twenty years ago. Back then, I felt like that guy on Ted Mack’s Amateur Hour. You know the one…he twirled plates on top of sticks. First one, then two, then five…and eventually, he had about twelve of them spinning. He ran from one stick to another, desperately trying to keep all the plates spinning without crashing to the ground.

I did a great job spinning plates till…I didn’t. I burned out. I hit the wall. There were lots of reasons why, but the bottom line was…I didn’t have good coping skills. I had an alcoholic father. I seriously should have known not to push the drinking thing. But, more and more, I relied on alcohol to prop me up.

I had situational anxiety. Going to a party? I’d have a drink in the bathroom while I put on my makeup and called on “Ginny the Party Girl” to step forward…emboldened by a beer. Going to the game with the hospital administrator and his wife? Drink LOTS of beers. Hosting a dinner party for the medical staff? Wine…more wine! It got worse and worse.

When my marriage started to fall apart, I was terrified. I had no idea how to cope because I worshiped at the altar of my husband. I only had a cursory relationship with God and I didn’t know Jesus at all. I was relying entirely on someone fairly unreliable….myself. When thing became difficult between me and my husband, I started drinking about an hour before he was due home so I could get through the evening. Many times I just got too wasted to cook so I went to bed, leaving my family to fend for themselves.

At the very end of our marriage, I found myself standing in a closet in the dark, drinking really expensive tequila straight from the bottle. I knew…KNEW in that moment that I was in dire straits. Unfortunately, when you are in that place, it’s really, really hard to pull yourself out of it without some help. I was just functional enough to fool people into thinking I still had it together…but I did not.

Our last Thanksgiving, my best friend’s husband caught me sneaking into their kitchen during dinner and drinking shots of tequila. I fell asleep on their couch while all the guests were at the table having dessert. I was desperately ill, but I was also an embarrassment. My husband didn’t know what to do with me. When I overdosed a couple of months later, I made the decision for him and I went away to get the help I needed.

Now, as a Christian, I know that God uses all things for my good and for HIS glory. Last week in church, I said my usual prayer…”Lord, if you have a message just for me, please deliver it through Pastor Justin.” And, in his message, God sent this…

“God will use your experiences for your good. He will use them for His glory. Your experiences are your story and your story has power. It has the power to change people. Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and share your testimony.”

I smiled.

God himself told me in that moment that, no matter how bad I got…no matter how messy my life was…no matter how dysfunctional I had been…He had saved me. HE came for ME! He left the 99 and came for the ONE. And when He found me, He carried me on His shoulders back to the flocks and announced to all…”Look, I’ve found my lost sheep! Come! Help me celebrate!”

I know God has great things in store for me. I anticipate the unexpected, just like Christine Caine preaches in her book, Unexpected: Leave Fear Behind, Move Forward in Faith, Embrace the Adventure. Yes, sometimes the unexpected is bad. But, sometimes it is amazing. I could never in a million years have imagined back when I was in the throes of torment…where I’d be today. I am so incredibly grateful that Jesus never gave up on me. He pursued me relentlessly because He had a plan. He knew what I was capable of. I am so humbled by His Love. Through Him, I can turn a dark and painful time into a testimony of the Goodness of God

On this…Palm Sunday…remember the triumphal return of Jesus to Jerusalem is also the beginning of Holy Week. It is the true beginning of the end of His earthly walk. May you all be blessed and humbled in the coming week.

❤️

““What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish.”
Matthew 18:12-14 NIV

“I Have a Voice”

Sat, 23 Feb 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“I Have a Voice” woodcarving by Evelyn Jimenez

I have met some of the nicest people through my blog. One is a widow named Evelyn. She became very ill after losing her husband and very nearly died herself. Evelyn is a woodcarver, which I find endlessly fascinating. I’ve tried my hand at carving but I haven’t had the right tools for the job. I really would love to try again sometime…in my SPARE time. sigh

A few weeks ago, I saw a little faceless woman she carved and titled, “I Have a Voice”. This little round woman struck my heart. I went for a very long time in my life without a voice. I felt like the faceless woman, being told I wasn’t good enough or I was stupid or I was too fat. When you hear these things over and over and over from someone who is supposed to love you, you soon come to believe them as true.

I wanted my own little faceless woman to remind me that I am no longer without a voice. I wanted to remember that time when I was without a face so that I might recognize other faceless women. Instead of making me sad when I see her dejected little hands stuffed in her pockets, I smile because she might just be hiding cupcakes in there.

And…I know. I know she has a voice in there. I know because I had a voice inside…even when it was stifled. We can always say “I wish I would have known then what I know now.” For me it’s more like “I wish I would have known then WHO I know now.” I think if I’d known then how much God loved me, I would have loved myself more. And, if I’d loved myself more, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be treated so poorly…even as a young child. Hindsight is 20/20. The best thing I can do now is mentor young women and make sure they know they are precious and loved and deserving. ❤️

“The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the Lord, the splendor of our God.”
Isaiah 35:1-2 NIV

Thoughts on Conflict & Fear

Fri, 25 Jan 2019 02:30:09 -0600

“Look for the gold in people. There’s enough dirt in the world.”

The other day, we touched on conflicts and how to resolve them peacefully. We all have seen our fair share of conflict in our lives and had dealt with it in the best way we knew how with the knowledge we had at the time. Sometimes it’s worked out ok…sometimes not. The good thing is, we can always continue to learn and grow and get better at the sticking points in life.

When you are dealing with marriage, here is the single most important thing I have learned. When you find yourself frustrated with your spouse…and you WILL at some point…mind your tongue when you are talking about him with others. If all you do is spout negative things, it won’t be long till that is all you will ever see in him/her. It doesn’t take long to go from speaking these things to outsiders to berating your spouse with all the things they do that tick you off. I can guarantee you…if you feed that beast, it’s all you’ll get back.

I learned with Mr. Virgo…once I started to notice something he did that bugged me, that was a sign I wasn’t praying for him enough. Same for Mr. FixIt. We all need grace. It’s a wonderful habit to practice with your spouse or other family members.

I had Bible study last night. We talked a little bit after last week’s study about the book “Goliath Must Fall” by Louie Giglio. Last night’s “giant” was FEAR. The first question we were asked was…”How well do you sleep?” Wow. Sometimes really well. Those are the times when things are going well and I really don’t have much to worry about. Other times, I lie awake all night long, staring at the ceiling, working something over and over, turning it this way and that, puzzling over how to…what? Fix it. Manipulate it. Control it. I rehearse conversations ahead of time with not only my dialogue, but that of the other’s as well. As if I have some sort of control over how another person thinks, acts, or responds.

Sometimes I lie there and worry about an event that isn’t going to happen for eight months. “Will I have the extra weight off before the wedding? What will I wear? What happens if it’s really hot. I don’t do well in heat.” All I have accomplished in that scenario is set myself up for failure and robbed myself of sleep and God’s joy.

Last night’s lesson was this…when you lay down to sleep and the things to worry about start lining up…just hand them over to God and go to sleep. He loves you no matter what. He’s bigger than all of the giants. Trust him to work on your problems while you’re asleep. Then you awaken refreshed and can live in God’s Glory.

There is a fine line between anger and fear. Giving your conflicts to God, praying for others, letting go of your fears…all elements that can help lead to a peaceful night’s sleep. ❤️

“Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”
Ephesians 4:31-32 ESV

Action v. Reaction

Tue, 22 Jan 2019 02:30:08 -0600

“The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr.”

Growing up in the chaos of alcoholic dysfunction made me a reactionary from an early age. There was a lot of anger in my home growing up. Lots of fighting, yelling, slamming, throwing, crashing. I never witnessed my father hitting my mother. He only hit me once. When he did, he came at me from behind and I stood up to him. I stuck my chin out and told him, if he was going to hit me he’d better hit me like a man and do it face to face. I’ll never forget the utter look of defeat on his face in that moment. He dropped his fist to his side, went over to the steps, sat down, and cried. He never went after me again. But, the damage was done. It was done long before that day.

I learned to be the peacemaker. To smooth things over. To mediate when things got out of hand. I was the bystander. I acted. Unfortunately, when the anger was directed at me, I reacted. I automatically went into defense mode. I made excuses. I deflected. I diverted attention. I manipulated. It was decidedly unhealthy and took far too many years to come to a head.

The first pivotal moment of my life…that moment when there is a definite line in the sand that separates “all things before” from “all things after” was the overdose. That was when I really did the work necessary to effect permanent change in my life. It’s when I learned about codependency. Before that, there was no clear boundary to define where others ended and I began. I was too busy weaving a web that would hold everything together.

Learning about boundaries was a love-hate exercise. I loved finding my voice and standing up for myself. I hated confrontation. I loved the release healthy boundaries gave me because I didn’t have to try to run everyone else’s lives for them. I hated feeling like a fish out of water.

It took a lot of practice. It still does. I still have to remind myself occasionally that I don’t do anyone any favors by not setting boundaries and demand they are respected. I didn’t spend seven hard years in therapy for nothing. Fortunately, Mr. Virgo came into the picture after I had these skills in place and he offered an excellent practice field.

After sixty-five trips around the sun, I’ve learned enough to know it’s a whole lot easier to carry love than it is anger, hate, discord, dysfunction, or codependency. When I approach any situation from a place of love, my walk becomes more Christ-like. And anytime I lead with “What would Jesus do?”, I am already winning. Conflict is inevitable in life. The only control we have is in how we react to it. ❤️

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
Galatians 1:10 ESV

The Difference Between “With” and “Without”

Tue, 15 Jan 2019 02:30:47 -0600

“The Difference Between With and Without”

I rarely write a post about a specific scripture. I usually write something then find the scripture that best illustrates my thinking. It makes me search more. It makes me read more and study the Word more. It keeps me engaged. This post is different. I was chatting with Danielle the night I was asking her questions about her addiction and overdose. When I told her how happy I was she was getting her life together at 24, I shared my story and told her I felt robbed of nearly a decade of my life. She shared a scripture with me and I made note of it. I have meditated on it for over a week and now I’m ready to share it.

I have always believed in God so therefore, I have never lived a day without Him. I will have to say though…Jesus didn’t live in MY house until 2004. By that time, I had already gone through two broken marriages. I had two beautiful daughters. And one broken mind.

I didn’t realize how desolate my life had become. I just knew I was shriveling up and dying on the vine. I became broken in my second marriage and, for whatever reason, we couldn’t seem to end it. We became more and more distant and I self-medicated in order to cope. Unfortunately, I was seeing a psychiatrist who did more harm than good and I couldn’t seem to end that either.

I knew what I needed. I needed Jesus. But I was married to a Jewish doctor. I took my little girl to Hebrew School every week. I organized all the Jewish celebrations in our small town. I had formally converted to Judaism. I had actually stood before a Beth Din…the Jewish tribunal court…and renounced Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior.

“Jesus would NEVER want me now.” I thought to myself.

Toward the end of that marriage, I laid in bed every night and talked to God. I told him, if anything happened to my husband, I would become a Christian. I consoled myself with thoughts of singing in church…of praying…of reading my Bible. But I just couldn’t do that AND be married to the Jewish doctor. He would leave me.

Little did I know he’d been thinking of leaving for at least five years before he told me. I was hurt. But I was also angry. If we could have both been brave and honest, we could have avoided the pain of the last five to seven years and gotten on with our lives. It would have had far less of an impact on my children…especially Daughter #2 who was just nine years old when I overdosed and we subsequently ended our marriage.

I felt robbed. Robbed of time. Robbed of happiness. Robbed of my marriage. And robbed of the Joy of having Jesus in my life…although I couldn’t articulate it as such at the time. When Danielle quoted Joel 2:25, my jaw dropped. It spoke of Redemption. It spoke of Replenishment. It spoke of Fulfillment. And the thing that spoke most to my heart was…the end of shame.

I was raised by a father who used shame as his preferred tool of control. Blame and shame were my lifelong companions, and renouncing Jesus had become the number one shame of my life. Before I even realized I needed Him, I was yearning for His unconditional love. Thankfully, I was saved and forgiven and made new. I didn’t have to wait for anything…I just needed to get out of my own way.

I loved the fact that as I ministered to Danielle, she ministered to me and told me God would repay me for the years the locusts ate. And He has…oh, my goodness. He has repayed me many, many times over. Far more than I ever deserved. As the calendar turned to another year, I could feel a shift in my relationship with God. No longer a “baby Christian”, I feel I have moved from an observer AT church to BEING the church. It’s a change in perspective and feels like a new level of maturity. It’s hard to describe, but I feel it and I believe it to be real. This is one of the wonders of walking with Christ. I’ve left the arid, desolate landscape of “without” and I’m walking in the lush, verdant landscape of “with”. ❤️

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you. "You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you. And my people shall never again be put to shame. You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I am the Lord your God and there is none else. And my people shall never again be put to shame.”
Joel 2:25-27 ESV

January Bluebirds

Mon, 07 Jan 2019 02:30:28 -0600

“Mountain Bluebirds are glorious in January!”

I don’t know about where you are, but here in West Virginia, the weather has been lovely. We have had three days straight of sunshine and near fifty degrees. When Mr. FixIt and I left church yesterday, we both let out an audible sigh.

“Ok, this IS a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I love that my sweet husband notices such things and really FEELS them.

“Yes,” I said. “I can get through a West Virginia winter if I just have a few days like this to lift me up.”

That is one thing about Colorado, besides my wonderful family, that I miss desperately. Plenty of sunshine days in the Rocky Mountains. And there truly is nothing more beautiful than Mountain Bluebirds on the crisp white of snow.

My friend, Roxanne Morris, is an incredibly talented artist and photographer. She caught these images yesterday and I asked if I could share them with you. They make me smile. Mr. Virgo has brought me bluebirds from the beginning. He knew how much I loved them. I cannot see them without thinking of him. And, since yesterday was my re-birthday, it was only fitting that he send me bluebirds…albeit through my friend’s lens and Facebook. These are COLORADO bluebirds. These are the same as the ones that fly around his grave when I go visit him.

“The flash of blue against the crisp, white snow of Colorado makes Mountain Bluebirds a favorite.”

I marveled all day yesterday at the vast differences in my life now compared to the same day nineteen years ago. I stood in church and sang with great joy and enthusiasm. I held hands with my sweet husband. We enjoyed breakfast together after church. We shared some time at the farm. And we came home to the Ponderosa. I spoke to Daughter #1 and she told me she loves me and misses me. I chatted with Daughter #2 and we shared our love. I received a text from Hubby #2…the one to whom I was married at the time of the overdose. It was a lovely text with pictures of their dogs and he was joyful and there was no mention of the past and my heart filled with love and joy for our healing. And, to top it all off, Mr. Virgo’s beloved Eagles won the wild card game yesterday. So, yeah…he’s happy, too. And still sending me bluebirds. ❤️

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.””

Jeremiah 29:11, 13-14 NIV

The Pivoting Point

Sun, 06 Jan 2019 02:30:09 -0600

“January 6, 2000 looked much like this...cold, snow-covered, sunny. Little did I know how the day would end.”

When I woke up the morning of January 6, 2000...I had no idea I had spent the last night of my life in Hubby #2’s bed. Because, it very nearly became the ACTUAL last night of my life. In about 12 hours, I was going to be in the ER fighting for my life after an overdose.

This is the day that I refer to as my re-birthday. It was the day I hit rock bottom and had to start navigating my way back up. It wasn’t like I really wanted to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. Everything had become so painful.

I used to tell the details of this day over and over and over to anyone who would sit still. I told about my relationship to a man who wasn’t taking care of me the way I needed. He’s not a bad man at all. Years of illness and my altered personality from all those drugs had taken their toll on both of us. I told about the psychiatrist who misdiagnosed me as having a chemical imbalance in my brain. I told about how my life experiences, including episodes of childhood sexual abuse, had created the perfect storm that produced that fateful day.

It’s nineteen years now. So close to two decades. Not quite one third of my life has passed. SO much has happened in those nineteen years, including burying my next husband. I am a sum of my experiences, as we all are. But, I am not DEFINED by those experiences anymore.

The person I am today doesn’t resemble who I was back then. The only cells that are the same ones now that were present on that night at the turn of the millennium are neurons…the very cells I was trying to shut off. Everything else has been made new…both physically with the passage of time, and spiritually with my salvation.

The value of the story has changed. I no longer want you to take sides with me and hate my ex-husband. I no longer want to make excuses for my behaviors. I no longer want you to feel sorry for me. These things were all present for some time in the retelling. Now, the value of the story isn’t so much the yardstick that measures how far I’ve come, but more a testimony that…no matter how far you’ve gone down the wrong path…you can turn around and have a better life.

While my abuse came from prescriptions, and Danielle’s (see my post about her earlier this week) came from street drugs and a needle, we are no different. We were both addicted and we were both saved by the same Grace. We were both snatched from the jaws of death by a loving and forgiving God. He didn’t cause our problems, but he did allow us to walk through them so we could learn and grow into the purpose He designed for our lives.

It’s hard for me to believe that was me…that I was that far gone. I will tell you this, though…I will forever tell how Jesus picked me up and carried me when I stumbled and fell on January 6, 2000. ❤️

“so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
Isaiah 55:11 NIV

Thwarting a Spiritual Attack

Sat, 05 Jan 2019 02:30:25 -0600

“Man says…show me and I’ll trust you. God says…trust me and I’ll show you.” Psalm 126:6

So, I was minding my own business, tucked under my blanket, happily knitting when I got a text . My dear friends Janine and Gail and I have a chat room where we visit just about every day. Janine was traveling through and was stopping at Gail’s to spend the night. I was three hours away but I wasn’t going to miss out on seeing my good friends. Impromptu road trip!

I got here just after dark. Janine had her friend Diane with her and I was thrilled to meet her. Another friend, Jan, came to join us and we just had a grand time. Diane is a devout Christian and is a PR person. Jan is a retired pastor. You can imagine our entire evening was talking about our stories and how God has worked in our lives.

I was standing in the kitchen giving Diane my testimony about finding Jesus when I started feeling ill. It worsened over the hour and I headed upstairs with a bucket, just in case. Everyone had gone to bed so when I came to Janine’s door I tapped.

“Janine?”

“Yes, dear.” She opened the door wide. Her smile quickly faded when she saw me. “Ginny? What’s wrong?” She came into the hall and touched my arm.

“Janine, I’m being spiritually attacked!” I knew it as sure as I knew my own name. I was suddenly, violently ill.

I spent the prior twenty-four hours pretty immersed in Jesus. I watched War Room…a powerful movie about spiritual warfare. Then I came to Gail’s and spent a whole evening talking about very powerful, spiritual things. There were five very strong women engaged in animated spiritual conversation.

Janine and Diane came into the room and laid hands on me and prayed fervently. Within a half hour, I felt much better.

If you don’t believe in such a thing as spiritual warfare, I am here to tell you it’s a very real thing. The enemy does not like when powerful, spiritual women start professing faith like we were. But his power is in whispering lies and making you believe things that are not real. We sent him packing. A whole army of angels surrounded me and kicked his butt! We can just rejoice in that for a while, ok? I believe! ❤️

“Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.””
Matthew 16:23 NIV

Forgiveness Equals Freedom

Mon, 17 Dec 2018 02:30:42 -0600

“Forgiveness=Freedom”

I’m not sure what I expected when I became a Christian in 2004. Lightning? The parting of the sea? Enlightenment? Thunder? I do know what I received was life altering. I received a healing to my very core. I felt like every cell in my body had been made new. It was remarkable.

When I was a baby Christian, I was like a sponge. I knew God, and loved Him. I knew Jesus, and finally embraced Him. But, when it came to the Holy Spirit, I was clueless. I had no idea exactly who He was, how He worked, what His function was. As the years have gone by, I’ve learned more and more and have developed my relationship with the Holy Trinity. And once in a while I get a big A-Ha moment that shines a light on some aspect I didn’t understand before.

I’ve long known and understood when the Holy Spirit talks to me. Those “nudges” that move and steer me in a certain direction are an indication of His presence. When I worship or hear a particularly moving sermon or scripture and I get goose bumps…that’s the Holy Spirit. All those years when I felt a knock on the door of my heart to let Jesus into my life? That was the Holy Spirit. I get all that now. And sometimes when I call out to Him and get the answer in moments, it reiterates just how close the Holy Spirit is….He lives inside us. He is that aspect of God that touches our hearts and minds with an intimacy only God can provide. I had that experience this weekend.

We had lunch with some of the local residents who live near the farm. Over lunch, my elderly aunt became a topic of discussion and I recounted how difficult that time had been. Then at church yesterday, Pastor Justin spoke on forgiveness. True forgiveness breaks the chains that are holding you prisoner. I thought back to my conversation of the day before and realized, I still had a spirit of unforgiveness as I was holding some resentment and hurt in my heart over some of the things my aunt said and did while I was trying to help her. In retrospect, I was quite filled with “You have no idea what she put me through!” That resentment, however small, is the poison I keep drinking yet she is totally unharmed.

At the end of services, Pastor Justin did an alter call and asked those to come forward who wished to let go of resentments and hurts and embrace a spirit of forgiveness. He came to each of us and laid his hands on our heads and prayed over us. I left feeling completely changed…yet again.

Do you have someone you are harboring a spirit of unforgiveness for? Is there someone who has hurt you that has left you saying, “I’ll show you!”? If so, this is a beautiful time to just let it go. Pray for those who have hurt you. Seek ways to praise them in public for the blessings they have given you…even if that blessing is the insight you gained from their unkindness. And, this is the season of giving. Send them a card. Stick a $5 gift card for coffee or to a restaurant. Tell them, “You know, I just wanted to let you know what a blessing you have been this year.” Or “I know you’ve gone through a rough patch and I just wanted to reach out and tell you I’m thinking of you.” Forgiveness goes a long way toward uniting us. I’m not saying send a gift card to your abuser. Or even reaching out for conversation with someone who physically or emotionally abused you. But you can still pray for them. The spirit of forgiveness in you just might bring you a new level of peace and healing of your own. ❤️

“bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”
Colossians 3:13 ESV

Is Empathy Gone for Good?

Wed, 21 Nov 2018 02:30:24 -0600

“ER Doctor Weeps After Losing 19-year-old Fire Victim”

We have a problem. Ok, we have LOTS of problems, but one of the biggest is a cultural shift away from empathy and respect for human life. I have long held that violence on TV and in movies, as well as video games, has been breeding the art of human kindness right out of the hearts and minds of mankind. And I don’t see it getting any better anytime soon if things stay on the current course.

This photo shows an ER physician in California taking a moment to regain his composure after losing a 19-year old girl. I was married to a doctor. Showing emotion in your interaction with patients is considered highly unprofessional so it’s trained right out of them. It touches my heart to see this image because I understand him.

The other day, I was browsing through my Facebook feed when I saw a video of Barack Obama surprising his wife at one of her book signings. Politics aside, it brought me to tears. Not the act itself, although it was quite special to see a man love his wife so openly. No, what made me cry was the comparison of civility we enjoyed two years ago as compared to what we experience today. I was just “waking up” after three years of foggy grief brain and what I experienced personally was heart wrenching. (I’m not going to step into a political dogfight here…just expressing dismay at so much derision in the world.) I had a flash of what an oppressed people might feel when they no longer enjoy the feelings of safety and freedom they experienced before. It was simultaneously frightening and sad.

You cannot raise a generation of human beings on autopilot, plugging them into electronics, filling their eyes and minds with graphic violence and expect them to come out a well-adjusted, empathetic society. You can’t give them more and more realistic depictions of murder and mayhem with rewards for killing the most and expect healthy minds as a result. Combine this issue with easily accessible drugs and weapons and you have a recipe for the disaster we find ourselves in currently.

Do all people who watch graphic programming and play violent video games become mass killers? Of course not. But it does cause a deterioration of the moral fabric in this country. I know this problem didn’t start with this President. I’m not saying he is to blame. That would be naive and doesn’t look at the whole picture.

What we have in this country is heart disease. I’m not talking cardiac. It doesn’t come from a single source, either. It’s a multifaceted issue stemming from a systematic numbing of the mind. It’s complicated. God. Discipline. Respect. Honor. Work ethic. Inequality. Imbalance of power. Lack of checks and balances. Broken homes. Latch key kids. Low teacher pay. Family values.

I long for people to love each other the way Jesus loves us. And, as long as we hide Him in a closet, it’s never going to happen. So, I do my part as best I can. I shine His light out into the world every day. I pray He expands my territory so that I can shine that light even further.

I pray for this broken world and its broken people. And I look for the helpers. For the ground breakers. The outreachers. The radical lovers. The peace warriors. The light shiners. And the tearful physicians who aren’t afraid to show their emotions. There is always and forever hope for a brighter tomorrow. ❤️

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
Ephesians 4:29-32 NIV

Loving What Is

Mon, 19 Nov 2018 02:30:47 -0600

“Snapchat filters make me see the beautiful woman inside. The mirror makes me see the beautiful Child of God that I am on the outside!”

I love my grandkids. I don’t get to see them and interact with them enough. Big is 14. Little is 11. Both are at the age where their interests lie elsewhere. Still, Little and I engage in bouts of “Let’s top each other in Snapchat.” She always wins. She does the cute and funky filters that twist your face up or adds bunny ears and whiskers. I go for glamour shots that take away my wrinkles and gives me the face of a super model. Vain? Not really. More like seeing the woman I feel like.

I’m sixty-five. Even in my primest of prime years, I was never super model material, but I could turn a head or two. I still can, if truth be told. Just ask my new, still-smitten husband. He thinks I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet! And, when I bask in his love-light, I feel even MORE beautiful. Isn’t that lovely?

When I look in the mirror and I see the wrinkles, the graying hair, the sagging skin, the cellulite I realize I am not looking at myself correctly. I am listening to the enemy whisper…”You’ll never be enough.” Instead…I change my focus. And you know how I do that? I listen to Jesus.

Here’s what Jesus tells me.

“You are altogether beautiful, my darling: there is no flaw in you.” (Sol. 4:7)

“You will be a crown of splendor in the LORD’S hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God.” (Is. 62:3)

“Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.” (Ps. 34:5)

“For we are God’s masterpiece…” (Eph. 2:10)

“…Created to do good works which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Eph. 2:10)

“Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” (Lu. 1:45)

“God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.” (Ps. 46:5)

“She is worth far more than rubies.” (Prov.31:10)

“But by the grace of God I am what I am.” (1 Cor. 15:10)

“See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands…” (Is. 49:16)

This is your time. God is within you. You are inscribed on His hands. Did you hear that? On his HANDS! He will fulfill his promises to you. You do your part…believe. Leave the rest up to God. Do you seriously believe the Almighty who created the stars in the sky does not count the hairs on your head? You are precious in His sight. Really.

Now, go out there and hold your head up high on this Monday morning. Smile at that person in the mirror. Need I remind you that you are a beautiful, perfectly imperfect image of God? You are loved. You are cherished. You are coveted. You are protected. You are awesome. There is ONLY ONE YOU.

I know. You may not be feeling it. You may be going through some pretty tough times right now. You may feel discouraged. You may be facing a crisis. You may be battling demons. You may be in the dark throes of grief. God has put it on my heart there is someone out there I need to tell this to so listen carefully. This is not the end of your road. He has a purpose for you that you haven’t even imagined yet. Don’t quit. You cannot fail as long as you do not quit. That miracle might just happen in the next five minutes, so stick with us here. Reach for Jesus’ hand. He will never, ever turn his back on you. He will never leave you. He will never cut you down or say mean, hurtful things to you. He will never make you feel small. He will never make you feel “less than”. He will meet you right where you are and love the stuffin’s out of you. Trust me on this.

You are a child of God. ❤️

“...And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14 NIV

Pennies from Heaven

Tue, 13 Nov 2018 02:30:10 -0600

“Found pennies…is it God reminding us to trust him?”

How many of you seem to find an inordinate number of coins since your person died? Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve found coins…sometimes every day…sometimes several times a day. You’ve all heard “See a penny, pick it up. All the day you’ll have good luck!” When you marry in England, you wear “something borrowed, something blue, a lucky sixpence in your shoe.”

Mr. FixIt and I found a penny one time that had the shape of a cross cut out of it. That was quite the find! Since Mr. Virgo died, I’ve found more and more coins. I’ve been told they are “angel pennies”…placed in your path to let you know your loved one is thinking of you. I don’t know if that is the case, but it’s a sweet sentiment.

When I pick up any coin, I turn it heads up and read what is stamped along the edge. “In God We Trust”. I read this and smile. It’s like God is sending me a little reminder…”Trust in me. Stop worrying about whatever is rumbling around in that brain of yours and place your trust where it belongs.” I put the angel pennies I find in special places…my night stand, the dash in my truck, the pocket of my coat or jeans. These found coins continue to remind me as I come and go to remember who’s got my back. Who loves me more than all others. Who has saved me.

My guess is…you will never look at a penny the same again. And you just might find yourself seeing more and more of them. ❤️

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.” Matthew 10:29 NIV

Stress + Tired = Attitude

Wed, 24 Oct 2018 01:30:21 -0600

“The tongue can wreak havoc in any relationship.”

What do you get when you mix two tired people working hard to meet a deadline? Well, sometimes you get a snarky remark and an even snarkier comeback. Neither of which are constructive or useful. How many times have I written that the tongue can wreak havoc in a relationship? Yet, there I was…Queen of the Snarky Retort.

I knew right away I didn’t speak life into the situation. And I immediately went to Mr. FixIt and apologized. Sincerely.

While this has been a wonderful time with the wedding and all, it’s also been stressful trying to get everything done and we are both desperately looking forward to our time away.

It’s perfectly normal to have moments of frustration when you’re living in close proximity with another human. How you deal with differences says a lot in how successful your relationship will be. Admitting your weaknesses, asking forgiveness, and praying for guidance goes a long way toward maintaining harmony in the home. If you fight, you need to fight fair.

Mr. FixIt is an extremely easygoing man. He has been understanding when I write every night. He’s a TV watcher. I am a writer. We do our own thing after dinner and reconnect later. That being said, we are about to embark on our honeymoon. And as much as I love you all, and as much as writing is the same as breathing for me, I’ve decided y’all are just going to have to sit this one out. I’m going to schedule a scripture to post everyday while we are gone so you have something to ponder. Please feel free to talk amongst yourselves here on my blog. I love when you all interact and support one another.

I’ll be back on Election Day! ❤️

“In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry,” Ephesians 4:26 NIV

Introducing....Mr. & Mrs. FixIt

Sun, 14 Oct 2018 01:30:41 -0600

“Introducing Mr. and Mrs. FixIt!”

Oh my, what a perfect day!!! I prayed it wouldn’t be too hot. It didn’t break 50 degrees even though the last two weeks have been in the high eighties. I prayed there wouldn’t be bugs. It was cool to the point of being downright brisk so…no bugs!!! I prayed the pulled pork would be moist. It was succulent and juicy. There was a small hiccup with the music but just when I decided to walk in unaccompanied, it kicked in. It didn’t rain…or snow. My hair cooperated. It truly was a perfect day!

When I asked Mr. FixIt what his favorite part of the wedding was, he said “When I saw you walking toward me.” I know this is true because when I got up to him he just looked and me and said, “Whoa!” Everyone laughed and I knew…this was as close to the perfect moment we may ever get when we are on this earth. And now, as I’m writing this, I realize how exhausted I am. I have a kitchen full of things needing cleaned. But, I have really great cake and pulled pork leftovers.

Really. Perfect. Day. ❤️

“Even more than all this, clothe yourself in love. Love is what holds you all together in perfect unity.”

Colossians 3:14 NCV

The Devolution of Man

Mon, 01 Oct 2018 01:30:05 -0600

“Foggy morning at the farm.”

I’m a scientist at heart. I’ve worked in medicine since I was 17 years old. I was married to a doctor for 21 years. I am a Christian. And the question of creation versus evolution is hard for me to answer completely. As a scientist, I have seen empirical evidence of evolution. It’s difficult for me to argue with DNA and carbon dating and fossils. As a Christian, I believe that God spoke the world into existence and breathed life into all things. When we read the Bible, we are interpreting it through our current base of experiences and knowledge. We read Genesis 1:26 “Let us make man in our image.” Was God talking literally? As in, the way we look today? Humans look different than they did even a thousand years ago. We are taller and certainly bigger than our distant ancestors. So, was He speaking metaphorically? Spiritually? Was He talking about attributes we are familiar with in this day and age? Was there a Big Bang? What is time? Is it measured precisely as it was in the beginning? Was a day exactly 24 hours and a year exactly 365 days? I don’t know the answer to all of these questions because, while I am continuing to learn and grow in my faith, I have not seen God personally. I experience God daily. That is different. I will leave these questions to those who are far better educated than I. Someday, we will know.

My point today is not the “e”volution of man, but the “d”evolution. Devolution is defined as “perversion; deterioration of morality.” I think we can all agree this is what we are seeing on the daily in the news and on all forms of social media. It doesn’t matter which side of the aisle you sit on. It doesn’t matter what your faith, race, sexual identity, nationality, level of education, IQ, or genetic makeup is…there’s something decidedly crazy going on in the world. I’m not sure our country has seen this level of divisiveness since the ‘50s or ‘60s.

Here’s just one small example that I ran across the other day. There is a meme going around on FB that shows President Clinton with a blonde woman with a caption “Bill Clinton and Dr. Ford” with “WELL, WELL, WELL” written across it. Intimating what, exactly? Collusion? A mass conspiracy in the ‘90s to supplant a Supreme Court nominee sometime in the year 2018? I don’t know. The woman in the photo is actually Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, a Democrat and a Senator from New York. Ok…memes happen all the time. Right, Left, true, false…whatever. While these things are irresponsible and show a lack of even a basic level of curiosity as to the veracity of the information being openly disseminated, my biggest problem is the responses they generate.

People I know…or, thought I knew. People who went to school with me. People who claim to be Christians. People who fight for the proper treatment of animals but absolutely, openly, viciously trash human beings who believe differently than they do. In the last couple of years, it seems we (and by “we”, I mean the collective “we”) have lost our ability to govern our tongues. The very people who are furious that God has been taken out of the classroom are lashing out with a vengeance at…I don’t know…everybody. I can let it make me crazy or depressed or angry. Or, I can choose to take the high road. I can check my own tongue and moral compass. Let me just drop a few lines from life’s instruction manual…

Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble. Proverbs 21:23

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. Ephesians 4:29

A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1

There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Proverbs 12:18

Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips! Psalm 141:3

Here’s a good one…If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person’s religion is worthless. James 1:26

Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceit. Psalm 34:13

Oh, I love this one…Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent. Proverbs 17:28

Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits. 1 Peter 3:10

A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit. Proverbs 15:4

Has your spirit felt broken by the words of others? I know the easiest answer of all would be to get off social media altogether, but like it or not, this is how many of us keep in touch with friends and family. Oh, you can hide the posts. You can scroll right on past and not engage. But that doesn’t solve the problem. That doesn’t improve matters. That doesn’t swing our moral compass back toward true north.

It’s a “sticky wicket”, as they say in England. It’s not an easy thing to do. We aren’t the moral police meaning we can’t force others to bend at our will, as they are perhaps trying to bend ours. But what we CAN do is be a light in the world. We can live by example. We cannot change others, but we can show a different way to be. And remember, the instruction manual also says this…

Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Galatians 6:1

As for a person who stirs up division, after warning him once and then twice, have nothing more to do with him, knowing such a person is warped and sinful; he is self-condemned. Titus 3:10-11

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be cleaning up my friends list now. ❤️

The Feeling of Prayers

Mon, 24 Sep 2018 01:30:49 -0600

“When someone prays for me, it’s like a thousand feathered angel wings wrapping around me.”

“Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.” Colossians 4:2 NIV

I will never forget when my friend Bill told me I was on his daily prayer list ever since the overdose at the end of my second marriage. I was...stunned. Here he was, a busy Emergency Room physician and a missionary in a country and location they could not reveal for fear of being killed. And I was on his daily prayer list?

When I finally became a Christian in 2005, the first people I told were my neighbors, Bob and Ellie. I asked them over, sat them on the couch, and told them I had accepted Christ as my personal Savior. They both immediately burst into tears and said, “Oh, we both have been praying so hard for you!”

When I revealed on Saturday that Mr. FixIt and I were getting married and shared the reason why, several of you told me you had been praying for me to hear God’s whispers and do what was right.

This was astonishing to me. I have prayed for countless people and circumstances, but I don’t think about others praying FOR me. Maybe my safety and comfort and good circumstances actually came because of the prayers of others. My grandma comes to mind. I can guarantee she prayed for me. Many times.

Hindsight tells me the gradual discomfort I felt when I was someplace on my journey I shouldn’t have been was at least partially due to the prayers of others trying to lead me back home. I once asked you here to pray for me and I felt a supernatural comfort…like a thousand feathered angel wings wrapped all around me. This is what the prayer of another feels like if you can open yourself to it. It’s physical. It’s supernatural. And it’s very, very real.

Praying for the happiness of my ex-husband and his soon-to-be wife allowed forgiveness which gave me peace. Praying for my children and grandchildren gives me hope for their safety and well-being. Praying for Mr. FixIt brings me reassurance of his strength and leadership for our family as we prepare to marry. Prayer can be felt by those you pray for. They may not have a clue it’s your prayers they are feeling, but trust me…they feel it in one way or another. So, keep praying. If there is someone who is lost, pray them home. If there is someone who is discouraged, pray for bravery. If there is someone who is broken, pray for peace. Prayer never hurt anyone and even though you may never see the results, it makes a difference. Because God listens. He hears. He cares. He loves us more than anything you could possibly imagine.

Take this into your week and be encouraged. Prayer changes things…even if it’s just inside of you. ❤️

Hindsight 2.0

Thu, 09 Aug 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“Daughter #2 with her Great Grandmother that she doesn’t remember.”

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When I was visiting Daughter #2 a few weeks ago, she mentioned she was heading to Texas soon with her fiancé for a family reunion. She was in awe that this family was renting a beach house for a week. A large group were gathering from all around the country to play games, comb the beach, and renew the close relationship they enjoy. These reunions were started by a grandmother who wanted her family to really know each other. The younger generation decided to keep the reunions going after grandma’s death for the same reason...to remain connected by more than DNA.

I reminded #2 that I took her to West Virginia as often as I could. We had family reunions, too. But, unfortunately, they all but stopped after the older generation passed away. She didn’t really know my family. That made me sad.

She sent me this photo yesterday and asked me who was with her. I told her it was her Great Grandmother on my dad’s side. I had a strained relationship with my dad. I also had an aunt on his side of the family that I was extremely close to growing up. I emulated her, modeling myself after her beliefs, likes, and dislikes. I thought she walked on water. As an adult, I came to learn I missed out on getting to know some pretty wonderful cousins because I saw the world through someone else’s lens. I’ve since rectified that and gotten closer to my dad’s side of the family. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change my children’s upbringing.

Daughter #2 says, “We just didn’t have that kind of family. We didn’t really DO things together.” That is very true. But that doesn’t mean that going forward, we can’t BE that kind of family. We can change this course and I intend to do so, in whatever means I can. I want my children and grandchildren to really know their aunts and uncles and cousins. So, here’s to family…no matter what that looked like in the past. No matter what it may look like in the future. It is the only one we have. ❤️

That Time I Dated a Cowboy

Thu, 29 Mar 2018 01:59:28 -0600

“Riding off into the sunset.”

When hubby #2 and I split up, I held out for like…three years. Hoping it was just a midlife crisis he was going through. Ahhh, denial….it’s not just a river in Egypt. I was heavily invested in NOT losing that relationship which only further convinced him I was NOT who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And, it’s all good. It certainly wasn’t at the time, but it is now. He freed up my future.

Once I finally “got it”…he was not coming back…I started dating. Actually, what I was doing was LOOKING. High and low…all over that town. It was a small town. Everyone…and I do mean every single person…either knew my husband or knew OF him. Let’s just say, dating in a small town when your ex-husband is a prominent physician is no easy task. Just my last name scared most of them away. I turned to online dating. And found a cowboy.

Oh, he wasn’t a cowboy in the conventional definition. He was a renegade…a man’s man…a former Marine who had suffered more than his share of battles in this life. He lived nearly three hours away. Our kids were the same age yet he was eleven years my senior. He was crusty and wild yet wise with a huge heart. I believe there are no accidents in this life and we are put on paths that intersect with people we are destined to meet. These people serve several purposes. They offer learning moments. They can heal places that have been hurt by others. Sometimes they soothe scars…sometimes they make them. Sometimes, if we are truly blessed, we get to have a great, deep love with one of them. And, sometimes…lightning strikes twice.

The cowboy and I came together at a time of crisis for both of us. Ours was not a relationship that was meant to be happily ever after. Ours was meant to rip some horribly festering wound open, clean it out, and send each other on our way. Although breakups don’t usually feel good at the time, it was necessary and we parted honorably…with genuine caring for one another. This is why we have been able to remain friends for all this time.

We talk once or twice a year. And when we do, it is usually because he has a stone deep down that needs to see the light of day. Or, I do. We bring it out. We look at it. We discuss its qualities. Why is it there? Where did it come from? Is it necessary to keep hanging onto that stone, or can it be tossed aside? We dance around it and sing and celebrate the pains of life that finally heal.

We admire each other’s scars. They are the wounds of mighty warriors in the battles of life. War. Love. Loss. I tell him I admire his brave heart. He tells me he admires the light of God that shines through my heart. We are quiet a moment, then the dance is done till the next time there is a stone that needs extracting. He is an uncommon man, a cowboy, a rock hound, a wiry desert-dwelling renaissance man who tied a lasso around my heart long, long ago and dragged it into the light of day to be resuscitated after a marriage broke me.

It is good to be reminded from time to time where you once lived in this life. I don’t mean physically, necessarily. I mean emotionally, existentially, philosophically…even politically. It is good to be reminded we are exactly where we are supposed to be in this exact moment in time. We wished each other well with promises to keep one another in prayer…he on a sojourn in the desert southwest…I on a journey of love and light with a man who sings my song. ❤️

“And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Here Chick, Chick, Chick!

Mon, 26 Mar 2018 01:30:34 -0600

“Here Chick, Chick, Chick!”

It’s springtime at #ruralking and Mr. FixIt and I went for cat food and got our fresh popcorn and chicky fix after church yesterday. I love the sweetness of the little peeps as they scurry from one end of their enclosure to the other. Snuggling close together for warmth, these tiny fluff balls with itty bitty feet will melt your heart. I wanted them all. I justified all the reasons we should have 300 chickens. They give eggs. We could sell the eggs. They look uber cool pecking around the yard or garden. Never mind that we don’t HAVE a garden. We have five acres…that’s good enough. The problem with having chickens…or any farm animals…is you have to actually, you know…BE there. We travel a lot. So, we get our chicken fix at Rural King.

I’m on sabbatical at the farm for a few days. I have some writing deadlines to meet. I need to sort my papers for taxes. I need to download data from my bank into Quicken so I CAN do said taxes. (If you have been here on any given April 15th in the last five years, you know what a mess I am keeping track of that kind of stuff.) Every year…same thing. And every year I swear the next year will be easier. And it never is. sigh

Update on the painting…it’s getting closer to being available. I had this great big exposé typed and chickened out. After I got blocked by these people, I started getting all kinds of spam in my e-mail. Who knows what they are capable of. Let’s just say, these Facebook pages that portray themselves as Christians and post tons of memes and have only been online a week and have nearly 6000 followers and promote prints of stolen artwork are totally uncool and you should be especially wary of any promoted post that uses a boat load of emoticons like ?? and ❤ and ? and ? and ? in their descriptions. Enough said. I’ll keep you aprised as to when the painting is available. If you want to be on my email list, you can sign up in the little box “Become a Rancher!”

Have a beautiful Monday! ❤

“Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:19-21‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Change Your Focus

Fri, 02 Mar 2018 02:30:53 -0600

“Imagine if we obsessed about the things we LOVE about ourselves.”

I’d love to have all the hours back that I obsessed about the things I didn’t like about myself. My hair. My body. My nose. My “flaws”…real or imagined. Can you imagine if we never, ever looked in the mirror and hated something we saw? Oh…what I really hate is that I put my faith in someone who judged me by my appearance. I really hate that I saw my self-worth through someone else’s lens. For…far…too…long.

One of the wonderful things about rapidly approaching Medicare age is the ability to see myself as I truly am. I’m a slightly overweight, active grandma with great hair and pretty feet. I was talking with Mr. FixIt this week when we went on our little trip. I was telling him about a time in my life when I really hated who I was. Then I grew to hate that I couldn’t speak up and change the situation I was in that contributed to it. He looked at me and smiled. He said, “Well, you sure are a strong, opinionated woman now. You don’t take crap off of anyone!” My heart exploded. He GETS me!

Every day, I focus on my word of the year. Presence. I am not that naive young girl who went into relationships looking for a knight in shining armor. I am not that willowy young thing who could eat anything I wanted and not gain an ounce. I don’t have the stamina that I had when I was 30…40…50….heck, 60! But, I love who I am. I am more of the woman in Proverbs 31 than I ever have been.

Pastor Justin illustrated God’s forgiveness last Sunday in a way that will forever change how I look at myself. He was sitting at a table with a bottle of water. He always keeps a small towel nearby because it’s quite hot up there under the lights and he has a tendency to get fired up. He was talking about how we are made new when we accept Christ in our hearts. He died for our sins. That means, they are taken away. The old is gone.

He covered the water bottle with the towel. “This is what happens when we are forgiven.”

He pulled the towel back a bit. “The enemy wants us to keep looking back. He keeps reminding us of who we were. But that’s not who we are now.”

He picked up the bottle, totally wrapped in the towel and said, “When we’ve been saved, God looks at us and sees Christ…not the old, beat up, soiled version of us…but the Christ-loving version.”

My eyes swelled with tears when the full realization hit me that I don’t have to carry around all that baggage…all those burdens…all that self-loathing. It is not prideful to love and appreciate yourself as a child of God.

I like my feet. I like my smile. I like my compassionate heart. I like the way my hair is graying with natural streaks. I used to pay a lot of money for that. I love the way every cell in my body was made new when I was saved. Appreciate yourself. Love yourself. Not in an arrogant, self-centered, narcissistic way. You are the only YOU there is in the world. The only YOU that has ever been or ever will be. God made you just this way with the very gifts the world needs that only YOU can give. Since scripture tells us to love others as we love ourselves the opposite must also be true. Love yourself as you love others. ❤

“We love because he first loved us.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Love Has a Name

Mon, 26 Feb 2018 02:30:45 -0600

“My Love Has a Name…Jesus”

I am always pumped on Mondays. My “Monday Morning Motivation” begins Sunday when Mr. FixIt and I walk into church. I’ve never gone to a church that has been so uplifting. I have never in my life looked forward to Sundays like I do now! It is such an amazing feeling to carry God with me into my week.

The Praise and Worship Team sang a new song yesterday by the Christian rock band, Jesus Culture called “Love Has a Name”. Our sermon series for the month of February was entitled “Love Handles”. Yesterday, Pastors Justin and Heather sat down and talked to us about 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 and put it in the perspective of our relationships. Let’s break it down.

“Love is patient.” When Mr. FixIt takes an inordinate amount of time to type something out on his phone, my first instinct is to grab the phone and do it myself in about half the time. I’m not considering the fact that my fingers are half the size and I’ve spent a gazillion more hours typing on a keyboard as a writer than he has as a mechanical engineer designing tools. I have to remind myself to emulate God’s love…God’s perfect love…and be patient. It isn’t always easy, but I try.

“Love is kind.” Show of hands…how many of you have cast a disparaging look at your significant other when he’s done something you think is stupid? How many have done the whole eye roll thing? That, in and of itself, is a very unkind thing to do. I’ve done it. I don’t like that I have. As a matter of fact, I read an article once by a marriage counselor and he said one of the tell tale signs that a marriage would fail was if one or the other partner rolled their eyes. It’s dismissive. It isn’t always easy, but I try.

“It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” I see this to mean those times when your significant other bests you in some way. Or you, him. Lording it over the other with one-upsmanship brings competition into the equation and that can be very damaging to a relationship. I remember Hubby #2 and I took an online IQ test and I came out higher than he did. He was a doctor and I always felt somewhat “less than”, for a number of reasons. I rubbed that in and it didn’t go over well. It isn’t always easy, but I try.

“It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” You dishonor others by being disrespectful. This is a self-seeking behavior. Love is not easily angered. Pastor Heather said she heard something a long time ago that has always stuck with her. “Take the pause.” When something strikes you wrong, stop and take a breath before you lash out and say something you will regret later. That brings us to “no record of wrongs”. How many times have we held onto those slights and honed them to a rapier edge, only to slash our partner with them later. Maybe we “forgave” them, but brought it up anyway. It isn’t always easy, but I try.

“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” Discord, cruelty, mean-spiritedness are evils that can take root in relationships, but the power of truth in real love is something you should always strive for. It isn’t always easy, but I try.

“It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” You should always protect your love. Always trusting doesn’t mean being gullible, but being fair minded and believe in your spouse. Always hope for the best in your spouse. And always persevere…keep going, even when the going gets tough. It isn’t always easy, but I try.

I have learned to love Jesus more than anyone or anything. Everyone…even those you hold the closest to your heart…will disappoint you. Jesus will never disappoint. If we hold him at the center of all equations, we have far greater chance of success in every relationship…family, work, friends, school…everywhere.

This is the song they sang yesterday…”Love Has a Name”. My love has a name…Jesus. ❤

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

youtu.be/cZOBtpJ0_…

An Open Letter to the Shooter

Tue, 20 Feb 2018 02:30:16 -0600

“Writing in TOW-Wanda”

While the world recoils in horror at the havoc you have wrought, I want you to know something. I have tears for the terribly tragic loss of these beautiful people you have cut down who will never have the opportunity to reach their potential. But, believe it or not, I have tears for you, too. While those parents prepare to lay their babies to rest, I wonder if there’s anyone there for you. Because I have a feeling there hasn’t been…probably for a very, very long time.

I don’t know you. We are just beginning to get some details about who you are. I know you were adopted. I know your adopted father died several years ago and your adopted mother died in November. Your teachers tried to help from as far back as sixth grade. I heard the impassioned speech one of your former classmates made. She said they always knew there was something wrong.

I don’t know your whole story. I know you were adopted as an infant. But, I’d be willing to bet any amount of money that you were quiet and shy as a young child. Awkward. You didn’t fit in. You were bullied. You were never picked to be on the team. You were labeled as that weird kid. You didn’t get invited to birthday parties and sleepovers. You were lonely, sad, depressed and isolated, I can just about guarantee that. And you were angry. You lashed out with little self control.

Did you ever have someone to hold you and rock you and tell you how much you were loved? Did you have someone to take you to church and teach you about how much Jesus loves you? You had mental health issues and teachers tried and tried tried to help. But you somehow fell through the cracks.

I know this isn’t going to be the most popular post right now because moms and dads are putting their children in the ground as we speak. People are angry. People are crying out for change and somehow there needs to be change. If you never had access to those guns while you were in such pain, I can pretty much guarantee there would be seventeen families enjoying each other’s company tonight instead of trying to figure out how to keep on living. I don’t know how we could have prevented this tragedy but we as a nation need to figure it out. Now…before it happens again. Because…it WILL happen again.

While I cry for those who are in pain tonight, I shed tears for you as well. I’m so sorry you felt this was your only way to be heard. I’m sorry you didn’t get the help you needed. I’m sorry you didn’t know how to find your way back from the abyss. I’m sorry you lost hope. I know you are broken, and you will never walk free in the sunshine again. You won’t get married and have babies and vacations and grow old in a job you love and look forward to retirement. This is the price you will pay for the choices you made. There’s nothing that can be done about that. But I want you to know something….and this I know beyond a shadow of a doubt.

God loves you.

God STILL loves you. And so do I. You wanna know why? Because the God I know loves ALL of his children…equally. He loves you exactly the same way as he loves me and your mom and the policemen who captured you and your attorney and the judge and all the moms and dads and students of that school in Florida. Who can you think of that’s really, really good? The Pope? Mother Teresa? Billy Graham? Joel Osteen? Our Father in heaven doesn’t love you one bit less than he loves them. God hates the sin…but he loves the sinner.

That doesn’t mean you won’t be judged. You will…by the court of man and the court of God. But you can be forgiven. If you haven’t already, you can ask Jesus into your life and I promise you will never be alone again. You will always have someone who loves you. So, while I pray for those families your actions shattered, I will also be praying for you. I will pray that you seek shelter with God. I will pray that you get the help you need. I pray that you will talk to God every hour, every day, for the rest of your life.

A spirit of forgiveness is a noble thing. I hope those to whom you transgressed will someday find it in their hearts to forgive you. For their own benefit as much as anything. It is the hardest thing to wrap our minds around when some sins seem so much worse than others. God’s heart is broken over this, yet he still loves you. Always has, always will. ❤

“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Not only is this so, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:6-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Skeletons in the Closet

Sun, 04 Feb 2018 02:30:45 -0600

Exploring genealogy can lead to some real surprises. Family secrets like the baby “born” to the woman in her sixties with a 16 year old daughter. To save face, the grandparents registered the birth as their own instead of their unwed daughter, even though the daughter continued to raise that little girl plus two more. Or how about the man who stole a pig, was exonerated, then got in a fight with the sheriff over something completely different and killed him in a barroom brawl. There’s suicides, like my great great uncle who had horrible lifelong pain from arthritis or one of Mr. FixIt’s distant relatives who took arsenic. You never know what you might find when you delve into the past.

When I was a little girl, I had a special aunt. She lifted me up and made me feel good about myself. I remember her stooping down to tell me how beautiful I looked in periwinkle blue. It made my heart sing and I absolutely adored her. I grew up emulating her every move, style, thought. She was married to my dad’s brother and she did NOT like that side of the family. Unfortunately, she instilled that in me and I never really had much of a relationship with them. But I was one of her “special ones”. We talked for hours…HOURS. I basked in her attention.

Then, somewhere along the line…there was a rift. I wasn’t allowed to come see her anymore. I had done something my uncle didn’t approve of and that was that. It was easier to let me go than to deal with his anger. I didn’t talk with her for a long time. Then Mr. Virgo died. I just had to talk to her…just one more time. I called and left a message. And told her I would try her only once more the following afternoon. When I called back, she picked up on the first ring. It was like old times. I collapsed into my beloved aunt’s love and she comforted me in my loss. She listened to me cry. We talked for two hours and when it came time to ring off, I sensed this was the last time I would ever talk with her. I wanted to make it count.

I told her to listen to me. I told her I knew it wasn’t her turning me away because she didn’t love me. I knew the uncomfortable situation she was in. It was a different time. Women were more dependent…for a number of reasons. She couldn’t walk away. I understood that. I told her I loved her very much, I knew I was still one of her “special ones”, and I didn’t blame her. She cried. She thanked me for understanding. I told her goodbye. That was five years ago.

I’m telling you…I was a late bloomer. I didn’t learn the lessons of your 20’s till I was in my 60’s. When an impressionable young girl is under the spell of a powerful mother figure, real personal growth isn’t possible until that influence is removed. In rapid succession, I lost my grandma, I lost a marriage in which I had always deferred to my husband, one of my best friends moved away, I lost my mom, my aunt, and Mr. Virgo…all in a period of a few short years. I was set adrift. I didn’t know how to be…me. It was bad enough that I lost my sweet husband and was grieving and had to learn how to be without him. But those people who should have been there to help me learn how to be a widow…weren’t. As a late bloomer, I had a crash course in Adulting 101. It was incredibly rough.

Then something wonderful happened. OK, it was awful…I lost my dad. I was never close to him, but it was loss just the same. And right there in the basement of the church when we gathered to eat after the funeral, the miracle happened. Those family members on my dad’s side that I had shunned out of deference to my aunt, opened their arms and drew me in. They loved on me. They gave me their phone numbers. They planned a family picnic. I saw them…really SAW them as the beautiful people they are and I realized in that moment how much I had lost by being led astray. All those years, I thought I couldn’t love them both…my aunt AND my dad’s family. What a waste.

Last night, I was diving into an hour or so of genealogy research before I started writing. I don’t know if you are familiar with ancestry.com. When there are new hints for a family member in your tree, a little leaf grows out of the upper right corner of their picture. It has been five years since I’ve signed into Ancestry to do a little snooping around. OMGosh! It looked like a forest in there! Leaves everywhere. I started with my parents and their siblings. I opened my uncle’s hint. A picture of his gravestone. He had died in 2016! I called my cousins and they hadn’t heard a thing. I googled. Nothing. I searched the newspaper archive. No obituary. Nothing.

I sat back and let my mind wander and absorb the news. My thoughts swirled round till they started to settle into a reality. All this time, I had let myself believe that once this man was gone, my aunt could talk to me freely again. I could have that relationship back that I had cherished. But, it’s been two years. If she was going to call me…she would have by now. That’s too…half empty to me. Maybe she lost my contact information in the five years since we last talked. Maybe she has dementia and can’t call me. Or, maybe it was her. Maybe SHE was the one who didn’t like what I had done and cut me off.

I spent about 15 minutes feeling really sad that I would never have that special relationship again. Then I realized I have gained SO much since things changed. I learned how to think for myself. I gained a whole family of cousins whom I love very much. Life is all about change. It isn’t always easy to adapt to change. However…adapt or stay trapped. It always comes back to choices. I’m special now because GOD says I’m special…I say I’m special…Mr. FixIt and my family says I’m special. And I still look beautiful in periwinkle blue. ❤️

“But after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who calls you to share his eternal glory in union with Christ, will himself perfect you and give you firmness, strength, and a sure foundation. To him be the power for ever! Amen.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:10-11‬ ‭GNBDC

Go Away, Mr. Snarky!

Wed, 31 Jan 2018 02:30:11 -0600

Something is fundamentally wrong with this world today. Ok…there are so many things, it’s hard to land on one…but today, it’s all about this guy I went to high school with. I love how the Lord gives me SO many opportunities to practice keeping my mouth shut. And I’m doing a whole lot better at it. God knows it isn’t easy for me sometimes.

So, back to this guy. We’ll call him Joe. Ok, that’s his name…Joe. It doesn’t matter if I identify him here…he’ll NEVER see this post. Because Joe is FAR too busy making snarky political comments on other people’s Facebook pages.

I became friends with Joe on Facebook in 2009. We were classmates all through school. He was one of the “cool kids”. He was a real cutie back in the day. I hate to admit that even in 2009, I kinda dug it if the “popular” people became my friends on Facebook. That’s sad, isn’t it? There was still some personal growth I obviously needed to work on…and Joe was my opportunity.

In nearly every case, those classmates that I really didn’t know in school have turned out to be sheer delights as friends at this stage of the game. Not Joe. Joe is opinionated, snarky, and oh so bold in his political opinions now that his candidate is in the White House. I usually don’t care. I don’t discuss politics online. I can scroll by annoying posts…I’m an adult. But when I expressed concern at the $23M price tag on the refrigeration’s units for Air Force One, I wasn’t inviting a political discourse. I was questioning how a refrigerator could cost that much. I wanted to learn.

Several people wrote genuinely kind responses, referring me to websites that explained the intricacies of such a piece of machinery. The two planes that are interchangeable to carry the President (whichever one has POTUS onboard at the time is called Air Force One) were first flown in 1987. Parts must be custom made because they are no longer being manufactured. Plans for new planes began under GW Bush but were postponed. The new planes will not be ready for service until 2023. The new planes will have more modern defenses against missiles and electromagnetic pulse attacks. And, apparently…cold snacks. (Thank you, Gina!) This was the kind of helpful, respectful answer I was looking for. Then, along came Joe.

I’ve noticed over the last couple of years, Joe is really opinionated. REALLY. As in, “I have no respect for your opinion if it doesn’t agree with mine.” He dive bombs every conversation with politically charged nastiness. He doesn’t call you names or anything. He just jumps in and stirs the pot. I know. I could have cut him off at the knees a hundred times. But, I’ve been interested in seeing just how far he would take this. The thing is, it’s never quite enough to make me pull the plug. He’s just like an annoying fly at a picnic. I figured I’d just ignore him.

The comment he made wasn’t necessarily offensive, or ugly. However…it just didn’t feel good. It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t supportive, or helpful, or kind, or even polite. I never strike back like with like. I was polite. I asked him not to come to my page and be snarky. I promised I wouldn’t go to his and do the same. It wasn’t enough for Joe. He had to swoop back in with the last word. I can tolerate political differences. I don’t have to suffer a fool.

My dad was well into his eighties when the internet gained traction. He and I never saw eye to eye about much. But I’ll never forget him saying the internet was going to be the downfall of society. We’re watching it happen. People are losing their ability to be kind to one another. They are emboldened behind screens to say things they might not say to your face. And after some time, they lose even that reservation and the ugly comes out everywhere.

I’m tired. I want nice again. I saw Tom Hanks is going to play Mr. Rogers in a movie about his life. Maybe that’s what we need…more Mr. Rogers. I miss manners. I miss kindness. I miss my country. I can work with anybody…just, for heaven’s sake, be nice. ❤️

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:31-32‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Time’s Up

Wed, 17 Jan 2018 02:30:46 -0600

I was a doctor’s wife. I had a beautiful life, for all intents and purposes. While he wasn’t a demonstrative man, I felt I was coping as best I could with his inability to meet my emotional needs. He was a good provider and a good dad. I could overlook the rest. There came a point when I started unraveling a bit. The clouds of depression circled around but never lit very long in those days. That is, until I went in for a physical. My doctor asked how I was doing and I told him I was a bit blue of late. I would often walk into the baby’s room, pick her up and rock her…and cry. “Hmmmmm… Inappropriate crying.” he wrote in my chart. He gave me a prescription for Zoloft and the race to self destruction began. How could I tell him why I was crying? How could I do that in the short time he had allotted for this visit? It was so much deeper than any pill could ever reach.

As I write this, I’m watching the gymnasts facing their abusive doctor in court. What a different world it is for sexual abuse victims now. My first abuser was a senior in high school. I was eight or nine. I was playing with a friend when the big boy lured us into a garage to “look at toys”. When he had his hand in my pants, he was whispering things in my ear I didn’t understand. Mom said don’t talk to strangers. But “Butterball” lived in the neighborhood. We knew him. I stood stock still in the belief he would leave. When he was done with me, he went for my friend. In that moment, my maternal instincts kicked in and I grabbed her hand and ran down the hill to her house. I pounded on the door and her mother came to answer. I was frantic and told her what had happened. She opened the screen door and I thought…”Oh, thank God! She’s going to save us!” Mrs. G grabbed her daughter and drew her in the house. As I started to go in, she placed her hand on my chest, pushed me out the door, and said, “Don’t you EVER say anything like that EVER again to ANYBODY!” Then she slammed the door in my face.

I went to my house and sat on the lawn trying to figure out what had happened. When I was really little, my babysitter’s teenage daughter had sex with her boyfriend in her room all the time. She caught me watching once and beat the tar out of me and told me I was bad. And here, a mother I knew and trusted told me I was bad and I had a pretty good idea it had something to do with that physical act I had no name for. I made a concrete decision right there. I would take Mrs. G’s advice. I would not tell my mom. I mean, what if I told her and SHE put me out on the street like my friend’s mom??? I would die!

I never told, nor did I tell about the time it happened with my best friend’s dad when I was twelve or thirteen. You know…when you are convinced you are bad from your earliest memories, that kind of damage runs deeply and permanently in your DNA.

I didn’t tell until I was watching my girls on the living room floor, playing. Daughter #1 was sixteen. Daughter #2 was one. I don’t know if it was the way the sun came in through the window or the way my daughter tucked her hair behind her ear or maybe it was the sound of their sweet innocent voices but suddenly those memories came rushing back with such force it nearly knocked me to my knees. The shadow of depression that was floating just out of my reach crashed on me with the force of a tsunami. That is when I started rocking my baby in the night…weeping. “Inappropriate crying”? I think not. I was trying to figure out how I was going to protect this precious child from the horrors that await little girls in the great big world. I was weeping for that little girl in me who was abused then turned away by someone who could have helped her..SHOULD have helped her. I was trying to figure out just one thing in my 38-year-old mind…”Who can I tell? And, what the hell does it matter now?” Just, please God…keep them safe.

The fact that I’m sitting here alive and well, and that my children are beautiful and safely grown is testimony to a mother’s strength and courage. The road was long and filled with unexploded ordinance, but we made it through. I told my mom everything when I was about forty. I was hyper vigilant with my girls but they were never abused under my watch. Now, I tell and tell and tell in an effort to teach prevention and give permission to tell your own stories. Because, #timesup. No more secrets. No more lies. No more hiding in the dark.

Yes…I’m proud of these young gymnasts. And, everyone else in the #metoo movement. I wish there had been this same moral outrage when these athletes came forward. It would have helped them so much because, just as it’s difficult to walk the path of grief alone, so too is the walk of abuse. It is the original “walk of shame”…only we did nothing wrong. It was not our fault.

While I never wish pain on people as a rule, I felt a certain vindication when I watched that doctor with his face in his hands as he is forced to sit there while victim after victim sit before him and tell their stories. To see him take off his glasses and wipe the tears away and hang his head in shame gave me great satisfaction. My abuse occurred in a time when such things weren’t talked about. Therefore, my abusers went on and lived their lives unscathed. I don’t know if they ever felt bad. Did they ever have remorse? Did they ever think of me? Did they ever want to ask for my forgiveness but didn’t know where to find me? Or better yet, did they ask God to forgive them? Did they find salvation? Will we meet somewhere and have the opportunity to talk? One is dead. Too late. I’m not sure about the other one. He’d be about 74 years old now. I’ve forgiven them both long ago. But I do often wonder…what if? What if I could sit (or could have sat) in front of my abusers and tell them what their actions did to me. How it affected my family, my relationships, my children. How it affected my views of the world and my sense of personal safely and my relationship to sexuality. How their few moments stolen from me left a deep chasm in my psyche that I urgently tried to fill with drugs and alcohol, sex and shopping. How the memories I had so carefully packed deeply away in a place that could never be opened came crashing out on a sunny Saturday morning…ripping my neat and tidy little suburban doctor’s wife life into shreds.

Inappropriate crying?!?! You got a couple of hours to listen to WHY I was holding my baby and crying?!?! You tell me, doc. Because at that point, I had no words to describe what had happened, no one to listen…to really hear…and only tears to shed. Your answer? Drugs. Drugs, drugs, and more drugs.

“Shhhhh…here. Take this. Let us help.”

I was very nearly “doctored to death”.

Yes, today I am proud of these beautiful young women doing a job no one in their right mind wants to do. We should be living in a world where we don’t ever NEED to have these conversations. As Oprah said…there is a change coming.

Accountability.

A new dawn is rising.

Time’s up. ❤️

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:6‬ ‭NIV

Toxicity

Mon, 15 Jan 2018 02:30:20 -0600

“Toxicity” by Ginny McKinney

“People tell you who they are, but we ignore it because we want them to be who we want them to be.” Mad Men ~ Don Draper

Ok, show of hands…how many of you have been in toxic relationships? Ahhhh, yes…I thought so. Almost all of you nodded your heads and said, “Yep!” I have been in more than one. They don’t feel good. They are crazy-making. And, they are avoidable but you really have to have your eyes open to see them!

I’ve been having the most fascinating ongoing conversation over the last week. I ran into someone from my past on Facebook. We knew each other fairly well back in the day. She watched me go through a terribly dark period in my life. She saw me spiral out of control. She saw depression consume me. She saw me reach out for help but the help I really needed just wasn’t there. There wasn’t anything she could do but watch helplessly as I went down in flames.

I was in a toxic relationship. I didn’t even know what that was at the time. It wasn’t until much later the term was coined and a definition was given for this type of relationship. According to Health Scope Magazine, “a toxic relationship is a relationship characterized by behaviors on the part of the toxic partner that are emotionally and, not infrequently, physically damaging to their partner. Keep in mind that it takes two individuals to have a toxic relationship.” In my case, the damage wasn’t physical…it was emotional. Disparaging comments, derogatory remarks, mean-spirited repartee described as “just kidding”. Remarks like “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but…” and “You’re not wearing THAT out, are you?” and “Well…THAT was stupid!”

The other day, I wrote about how I had been being critical of Mr. FixIt because I was frustrated about something. We all do that to one degree or another…on occasion. But, when a relationship devolves to base comments that never get better, that only tend to deteriorate and get “snarkier” and more brazen and harsh…that’s a problem. What most often happens in that situation is something called “gaslighting”. The term comes from a movie called Gaslight. In the movie, a man and woman are in a toxic relationship. He starts turning the gaslight off and asking her why she did that. He made the woman think she was crazy. Gaslighting is a terrible form of abuse and can go on for years unchecked if the person being gaslighted believes what is being said. I began to believe I was crazy. And THAT was crazy!

What was fascinating with this conversation was the third party observations that absolutely validated my experiences. That told me…I really WASN’T crazy! Well…beyond what the relationship caused. The important thing about the definition of a toxic relationship is…it takes two people to be in one. The other day I read about a celebrity who was dating a man who tickled her. She told him she didn’t like tickling, it made her feel vulnerable, helpless, and out of control…and would he please stop. He thought that was really dumb so he tickled her anyway. She broke up with him. I thought to myself, “Way to GO, girlfriend!” When gaslighting first started in my relationship, I second guessed it. I thought surely I must be mistaken. The person I knew and loved would NEVER do that. I must have misheard or misunderstood. I’m being too sensitive. Then you start walking on eggshells. Maybe you lash back. Maybe you try to trap each other and get in a power struggle to gain the upper hand and get things back in control. Whatever you do, a toxic relationship is best avoided at all costs.

My old friend went through exactly the same thing in her relationship…word for word. The same life circumstances, the same process, the same results. To have someone who knows you, who has gone through the same thing, and can say “These things happened to me, too!”? Wow! Liberation. Validation. It’s hard to describe how that felt inside.

The problem with toxic relationships is they rob you of your self-esteem…your self-confidence. They leave you feeling powerless and out of control. The first time I was able to set boundaries with someone and stick to it felt like I had just discovered fire! Such a rush of power came through me…it was totally foreign. I didn’t learn these skills growing up. I was a girl, to begin with. Secondly, I was the child of an alcoholic. I had no one to teach me about boundaries and values. It is utterly amazing to be very nearly sixty-five years old and finally “get it”. To have my eyes open.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, my friend! Our conversations have done more for me than all the therapy I went through back in the day. I am so happy we have reconnected. God brings us the people we need at just the right time, doesn’t He? ❤️

“For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice.” ‭‭James‬ ‭3:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Epiphany

Sun, 07 Jan 2018 02:30:01 -0600

Epiphany

Epiphany; noun: plural noun: epiphanies

A) the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).

B) the festival commemorating the Epiphany on January 6.

C) a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.

D) a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

Yesterday was Epiphany. Traditionally, it marks the end of the Christmas Season. The day the Three Wise Men visited the baby Jesus and bestowed their gifts to Him.

Epiphany also means a sudden revelation, insight, and/or appearance of a supernatural being. Eighteen years ago, I experienced epiphany on many, many levels. I was seven years into a devastating depression…one I could see no way out of. I was over prescribed medications by a medical community that my husband at the time belonged to. I was a doctor’s wife. I had WAY too ready access to medications I had no business being on because a referral pattern is a terrible thing to waste. Doctors hate to take care of other doctor’s family. It puts a lot of pressure on them to go above and beyond…to be exemplary…to have a positive outcome, no matter what. Unfortunately for me, that meant seven years of medications that made me a zombie. Add a psychiatrist who told me at every visit, that this was just the way I was…I would need to take these medicines every day for the rest of my life…that I had a chemical imbalance in my brain. I lost my 40’s…literally. My marriage was irreparably damaged. December of 1999 found me struggling. My 20th Anniversary came and my husband told me he wasn’t in love with me anymore. I was devastated. I couldn’t see how I could possibly live without him. I circled the drain and on January 6, 2000…I overdosed on two full bottles of pills and I very easily could have died.

As they worked on me in the emergency room…these doctors and nurses with whom my husband and I socialized…I “faded”. My vision became a tunnel. My hearing damped down till it sounded like I had tin cans over my ears. I didn’t see a great white light like some talk about when they have a near-death experience. I’ve drawn it here, as close as I can. It was this incredibly beautiful disc of cobalt blue with golden rays of light radiating from it all around like an eclipse. It was ethereal and sparkly and incredibly peaceful.

As I stood in this immense ocean of blue light, my hearing left me and there was no sound. Dead air. Nothing. And suddenly, my grandma’s voice cut through the silence and straight into my left ear, as if she were standing beside me and bent down to speak directly to me. She shouted at me!

“Young lady…you get back down there right now! You have work to do!!!”

Immediately, my eyes flew open wide and I was in the ER, lying on a gurney, the overhead light shining in my eyes. I squinted at the glare and the sudden rush of noise. I rolled up on my side and threw up violently. After a while, I turned on my back. A nurse was leaning over me…a look of sincere concern on her face. I burst into tears when I realized what had happened. I kept crying, “I’m so ashamed, I’m so ashamed, I’m so ashamed.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close to her and whispered in my ear, “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve been sick. You’re going to be ok.”

I was at the bottom of the barrel in that moment and I had to begin a very long climb back. It took a great deal of intense therapy to convince me the other doctor was wrong and I really didn’t have a chemical imbalance in my brain. It took a full three years to wean off the medications he had me on. My marriage was over. I nearly lost my relationship with my kids. It took a huge amount of work, strength, and determination to rebuild my life.

I think that experience actually gave me tools to help me cope with losing Mr. Virgo years later. I survived that horrible ordeal. I surely could survive this one. I’ll survive the next. It’s fitting that the overdose occurred on Epiphany. The symbolic ending. The supernatural appearance of my grandma’s disembodied voice…nine months after her death. The moment of sudden revelation and insight that I had gone as far away from where God wanted me to be as I could possibly go.

I look back on those years with a sadness that I lost so much. I look back on that night with the absolute conviction that God sent the one person I would listen to…my grandma. I believe with all my heart that God saved me that night because He wasn’t done with me. He still had work for me to do. And, I also believe I could not have done any of this work if I had never had those seven years of walking through hell…if I had never had that devastating overdose…if I had not nearly lost everything.

Those of you who have been following me for a long time have probably heard this story before because I consider January 6th my “Re-Birth Day” in a literal sense. My second chance. My do-over. And for those of you new enough that you haven’t heard it yet, it might give you a sense of where I’ve been, even before the devastating loss of Mr. Virgo. We all have struggles in life. And, so far, I’ve survived all of them 100% of the time. For a long time, I was embarrassed by this story. Depression. Anxiety. Drugs. Dysfunction. Once I became a Christian, I realized God can use me to help others in similar circumstances. If I shine His Light into every dark corner of my life and show that Light to you, then I am doing what He put me on this earth to do. I’m at peace with that part of my life now. It doesn’t embarrass me. I am not ashamed. I am strengthened by a God that wouldn’t let ME decide it was time to go. I am immensely grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given…a chance to rebuild broken relationships…a chance at great love, not just once, but twice. I’ve lost much…but I’ve gained so much more. ❤️

““Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭60:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Messages From Beyond

Thu, 21 Dec 2017 02:30:12 -0600

I first met Sheba Wheeler at a holiday dinner at The Warwick Hotel in downtown Denver. Mr. Virgo was the Food & Beverage Director and had invited me to come down to the restaurant so we could at least see each other that day. Seating was limited so singles were being asked to buddy up at tables. I always enjoy family style seating as I get the opportunity to meet interesting people.

Sheba and I hit it off from the get go. She was also a writer, working for the Denver Post. She’s a superb photographer and we enjoyed an evening of lively conversation. There was something about Sheba that drew me to her. She seemed exotic and mysterious and as comfortable as an old quilt. She had really great energy and I felt she was special…as in, she had “gifts”.

I’ve kept in touch with Sheba all these years and have watched her open up to accepting the gifts she has. She’s had many life changes…a new relationship, a couple flooding disasters that forced her out of her home, the loss of a job she loved. But with every door that closed, another opened.

Sheba grew up in the church and her faith was instilled in her at an early age by her family. At the same time, she knew she was different. She “saw things”, “felt things”, “heard things”. It turns out, she learned long after her death that her mama had “the gift” too. It happened after she moved in the new house

It wasn’t till she moved into a new home that Sheba got a real taste of what was to come. There was a spirit there. A Victorian woman named Theresa. She “visited” her. Sheba saw her clearly…heard her voice…felt her presence. She called in an investigator who helped her communicate. The investigator became her mentor and told her about her abilities as a medium. Sheba fought it for months till she finally embraced her gift. And once that door was opened, she became quickly overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of spirits clamoring for her attention.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. “Oh, that’s impossible.” “It’s heresy…evil…black magic.” “It’s demonic.” “It’s not Christian!” Listen, I’m here to tell you…I am a Christian. I love my God and have put my faith in Jesus. AND…there are unexplainable mysteries in life. The first time I saw my grandpa in the garden, leaning on his hoe, wiping his brow and waving…a full two years after he died…I was stunned. My grandma had told me long before that if I ever smelled roses around someone and there were no roses there, it meant someone was going to die. That has literally happened to me. When my aunt learned that these things had happened to me, she taught me to look at the time when I had “feelings” so I could look back later in comparison.

I believe Sheba when she says spirits visit her. I have no reason to believe she is mentally ill. I do not believe she is evil. Yet she is attacked weekly by people…mean people…over what many call “the gift”. In 1 Corinthians, Chapter 12, Verse 10 speaks of the Holy Spirit gifting certain people with the ability to “discern spirits”. I believe that’s what Sheba does…she discerns spirits around her.

I hadn’t had a chance to chat with Sheba in a long time and she kept popping into my head. I’ve learned to follow through when that happens, so I texted her. We chatted a while. I told her I had been following her posts about her gift. She had met Mr. Virgo. I asked her if he had ever tried to contact her. She said no but she could try from her end. I didn’t hesitate in asking her to do so. She asked for his full name and some bit of information only he and I would know. I gave her his dad’s nickname for him. Now, remember…this is via text. She told me she had never tried this avenue before but she would do her best.

I waited a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. Soon she came back…laughing. She said, “He’s here! The first thing he said was….Well, it TOOK you long enough!” You see, Mr. Virgo and I watched all the ghost hunting shows. We downloaded an app on my phone that could detect changes in the electromagnetic field. And, we promised each other that if there was any possible way to reach out and send a message from beyond, we would. I’ve felt his presence. I’ve even heard his voice on one occasion. I’ve had my cards read…not Tarot…just ordinary playing cards. I’ve been told he’s “with” me. I was even told the person was given a mental picture of the two of us, sitting in white wicker chairs on a covered front porch, drinking something out of mugs. That would describe our typical morning having coffee on the front porch. He told her to tell me those were the happiest times of his life, being out there with me. But, this was different. I was asking someone to connect with him directly and let me ask questions and get answers.

I asked if he was ok.

“Yes.”

Are you happy?

“Yes, it’s all love and light here.”

Then Sheba said, “Wait a minute. He’s really upset. I had to tell him to reel it back a little. It drains my energy too fast.”

She was still for a few moments when she came back and said, “He says he’s sorry. He’s sorry he left you like that. He didn’t mean to.”

“I know he didn’t. He doesn’t have to be sorry.”

“He’s saying “Nooooooooo…I was supposed to do something!”

Immediately, I knew what he was talking about. The doctor had told him five months before he died that he needed a complete cardiac workup. He refused. I think he was saying he should have had the tests done then this wouldn’t have happened. He knew I had forgiven that. But he couldn’t forgive himself.

“You need to talk to him, Ginny!” Sheba said. “You need to tell him he needs to forgive himself…that you’re ok…that everything is as it should be, as it was meant to be.”

Sheba had to get to a meeting and we rang off. I thanked her, and told her I didn’t feel this was a “dark” thing. Then I sat back and talked out loud to Mr. Virgo.

“Honey, listen…I know you didn’t mean to leave me. I know you had a strong work ethic and you didn’t think you could take time off during the ski season. And, I know it must be upsetting to know you might have avoided this…for a while. You have to forgive yourself. Let this go. It is what it is. It was hard. It still is, sometimes. But I’m doing well. I’m happy, I’m healthy, the family is great, and I have this wonderful man that loves me like you did. Just let it go now, ok?”

Then something extraordinary happened. You know how it feels when you’ve had a pain for a long time and you resign yourself to it and it just seems like it’s normal to feel pain? Then when that pain goes away, it becomes apparent you didn’t realize how MUCH pain you had been in? Well, when I finished saying what I had to say to Mr. Virgo, I felt as though a huge ball of static electricity suddenly released itself in front of my chest. I hadn’t even realized I’d been feeling that till it suddenly released. I texted Sheba back later and told her and we were both amazed.

I know it may seem far-fetched. Science fiction. Voodoo. Occult. But this is not at all what I feel…nor is it what I believe. I believe the ways of God are mysterious. So far, there haven’t been any documentaries made with empirical evidence, no footage, no recordings, of what happens when we cross over. I am a Christian, and I am a scientist. I believe in mysteries. And, if this mystery brings me comfort, there is nothing wrong with that. I know it may not be what you believe, but it seemed pretty real to me so I thought I would share. And some day…some glad day…we will know. ❤️

“Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. To one there is given through the Spirit a message of wisdom, to another a message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭12:7-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

*Note: There have been a few edits as Sheba clarified the details with me

It’s That Time of Year

Sun, 10 Dec 2017 02:30:37 -0600

I visit this topic every year. There’s always a big hullaballoo every year about what to say when greeting others around the holidays. It seems like there are just WAY too many perceived offenses surrounding this subject. There are those offended by “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings”. There are some who are not necessarily offended by “Merry Christmas” but who wish to be more inclusive. Sometimes the debate gets heated and we forget what the whole thing is all about in the first place. Love. The kind of love that transcends all other love.

While I was not born Jewish, I lived as a Jew for 27 years. I became Jewish for a number of reasons, but it was NOT to convert because of a marriage. I married a Jewish man, but I considered myself Jewish before I met him. When he joined a medical practice in a small town on the western slope of Colorado, we were faced with a bit of a dilemma. Everything was strictly “Merry Christmas”. Which is fine. I have no problem with that. The Christmas program included Hanukkah songs, which was great. But, it was Hanukkah songs without acknowledging Hanukkah, per se. The other children in the school weren’t taught there was anything else BUT Christmas. They thought Hanukkah was the Jewish Christmas, and it isn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with Christmas. And, being a stickler for education, I wanted the children to learn about all the winter holidays. I wanted all the children to be included and celebrated. And to do that, it couldn’t just be about ONE holiday…as if that were the only one.

I joined an ad hoc committee on religious sensitivity in the schools. We added books about other winter festivals and holidays to the school and public libraries. We asked for the program to be called the Winter Celebration. We were met with incredible resistance. The mayor of the little town was a former priest. He took great offense at our request. To the point that he hung a banner over the Main Street of town accusing the “heathens of trying to take Christmas away from our kids”. Personally, I really loved that man. He was kind, generous, and worked very hard for our town. He got our local representative involved. It was a real mess. We met with them. We communicated. We pleaded for our children to be included. And, as time passed…they were. We weren’t trying to take anything away from other children. We were trying to expand the scope of the holidays to embrace all children.

I don’t feel any holiday should be diluted. Every faith has its own place in this melting pot of a country. Religious freedom is what this country was founded on. I am a great proponent of inclusivity. In the years since, I have become a Christian. My faith is very important to me. But, I have a memory. And my little girl was ostracized by her peers. She was…to her face…called a “stupid effing Jew” and that is totally unacceptable.

So, here’s my bottom line. I do not care if you say Merry Christmas. I didn’t care when I was Jewish if you said Merry Christmas to me. You were being kind and wishing me well. What’s not to love about that? I, however, will more than likely say “Happy Holidays” to you unless I know for certain that you celebrate Christmas. Because, I am not clairvoyant. Unless you are wearing a Santa suit or elf ears, I’m not going to assume who or what you are. I will respect your human-ness. With a heartfelt holiday greeting.

I love Christmas. And, I love Hanukkah. I am not familiar with Kwanza, but I love that there is such a holiday. For me personally, I love the story of the Nativity, of the birth of the Christ Child. And, I love all of you. I hope this season is full of love, no matter what your faith…or lack thereof. This is a dark time of year, and a dark time of the world in many ways. We all need all the Love and Light we can get…and not just in December! ❤️

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;” ‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3:22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

He Loves Me...”Like That”

Tue, 05 Dec 2017 02:30:03 -0600

It was December 4th, 2013. It had been 267 days since the love of my life died right in front of me. It was 267 largely sleepless nights. I had made myself put one foot in front of the other…day after miserable, lonely day…for 2-6-7 long $&@#%€* days. I was tired. I was broken. But I was trying.

On this day, I went to work. It was normally an hour commute each way, but on this particular day, the skies opened up and snow started falling at an alarming rate. The further west I drove heading home, the deeper the snow became. When I finally pulled up in front of my house, there was nearly 18” of heavy, wet snow in my driveway. I slogged up the drive and got my snow shovel out. You know…the one with MY name on it…not Mr. Virgo’s. He was gone. Two-hundred-sixty-seven days of…gone.

I shoveled for what seemed like hours. I was numb…physically and emotionally. I could hardly make a dent in the snow removal. I barely got my car in off the street when I gave up and went inside. I marched straight to our…MY…bedroom. I stood in front of the picture of Mr. Virgo and yelled at him. I screamed. I cried. I ranted and raved. He had a lot of nerve leaving me like this…with this house and this mess and this…LIFE! I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I was just so $&@# tired. I didn’t care if I lived or died, to be perfectly honest.

That was a particularly dark and dreadful season in my life. There were a lot of people who helped me through that. I had support from those who loved me and from complete strangers in several widow’s support groups on Facebook. I’m only active in a couple of them now. I see myself there now as a symbol of hope, having survived the worst of it.

The other day, one of the women in the group said “No one will ever love me like that again”. I couldn’t let her go on thinking that…believing that. I know early on…I couldn’t imagine loving again. If for no other reason than I was sure another loss like that would surely kill me. Then time passed, wounds scarred over, and color started to filter back into my life. I started to think…maybe I COULD do this again. I prayed a lot about it and asked God to place a worthy man right in front of me. And…He did.

I wanted this woman to know…your heart can beat again. You can open it up. You can give and receive love. It’s been almost five years since my world fell apart. And, while this man is so different than my late husband, he loves me “like that”. I feel the same joy true love brings. I feel the same hope, warmth, trust. This one is far more passionate…partially because I’m acutely aware of what I lost and I find this so precious. Which brings me to the biggest difference. Fear. When my husband was alive and I used to have the fleeting thought…”What if he died?” I had absolutely zero understanding of what devastation that loss would bring. Now, I know exactly what that loss brought to me. I still don’t know what losing this man would be like, but I have a $&@# good idea. I try to keep the wolves at bay and live in the moment, but they’re always howling in the woods somewhere.

God did not create in us a spirit of fear but a spirit of power and love and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7 is one of my go-to verses when I’m feeling weak and out of control. Mr. FixIt is having some reconstruction surgery on his hand Thursday. Even though I worked most of my career in medicine and was married to a physician for two decades, since losing Mr. Virgo, I don’t handle medical situations very well…especially when it involves someone I love. I read 2 Timothy, and asked a friend to come join me at the hospital for coffee and a chance to catch up. I know it’s not a huge invasive surgery, but I know things can happen. This man loves me…”like that”. I will do my very best to support him in whatever comes our way because…I love him “like that”, too. ❤️

“for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” ‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

MORE Christmas Memories

Sat, 02 Dec 2017 02:30:56 -0600

I have been on such a nostalgia kick lately! Here’s one I know you all will remember and you probably had (still have!) one of these bad boys. My mom had one that she made in a ceramics class. As a matter of fact, I think I might have made one somewhere along the way. I seem to remember painting on the glaze that puffed up like snow and gluing the little ornaments in the holes. Wow…that’s like opening the top of your head and reaching WAY back in the memory banks!

Mom got to the point where this was the extent of her holiday decorating. When Christmas was over, she dusted off the “tree”, put a dry cleaning bag over it, and took it back upstairs to the attic till the next year. I found it up there after she died. It’s one of the things I saved when I cleared out her house. And, unfortunately, it’s one of the only things that broke during one of my many moves over the years. It made me so sad.

I was rummaging around in the upstairs of the cellar house the other day and ran across one of these in a box up there. I need to get it out and set it up on the dining room table. My aunt used to put it out when she lived there.

I was wandering around the mall yesterday and was thinking of more things we used to get at Christmas. Remember those round bath oil beads? They were jewel-toned, came in about four or five scents, and often were in a tube with a plastic crook on the end to look like a candy cane. You put on in your bath and the hot water would melt the gelatin bead and the oil would come out into the water. Only, who could resist picking it up and playing with it till it completely dissolved???

How about the Easy Bake Oven??? OMGosh! Do you remember how horrible that stuff tasted??? Yet, we ate it! There was Chatty Cathy, Betsy Wetsy, Tiny Tears. I always wanted one but never got one. I did get the bride doll that was as tall as me! And I had a Barbie. My Aunt Marge once traded eggs for a Barbie Doll dress that the neighbor made. I knew that was a big deal for her to do that and I took extra special care of that dress.

How about the socks with the toes in them? Or games like Operation or Chutes and Ladders or Candyland. I remember getting a set of Old Maid cards once.

One year, money must have been really tight. Mom ordered our Christmas presents from a catalog and they didn’t come in time for Christmas. So on Christmas morning, mom gave us each an envelope with the pictures of what we were going to get when the box arrived. But then, when the box did come, Dad found out Mom had charged the items so he made her send them all back. We were so disappointed and to this day, it makes my heart ache for her. She had to have felt horrible that we didn’t get a Christmas.

We moved into the house we grew up in over Christmas break when I was in second grade. The house and furnishings were our Christmas that year. I remember my Grandmother bought me a bedroom set. It was grey, very modern. It had a twin bed and a dresser that had a drop Front that turned into a desk. Grandmother made curtains out of pink fabric with grey poodles on them. There was an old TV console in my bedroom and for some reason, she made a cover for that as well. I even had a black metal trash can with a poodle on it! My brothers room was decorated with a Cincinnati Reds theme. That was a grand Christmas!

I remember when I got old enough to babysit, I would go downtown to Kresge’s and buy Mom a little bottle of Evening in Paris perfume or a chiffon scarf. She always acted as though that was the finest gift a mother could have wished for and it made me so proud. I loved wrapping the presents. As a matter of fact…when we got old enough, she would put our gifts in boxes and I’d wrap my own presents! I wrapped everyone’s presents. It took all day on a Saturday. I’d sit on the floor in front of the TV and use up all the bows and the stickers and the gift tags and have a big time. Then I’d pile everything under the tree. We didn’t have a lot. But we had enough. ❤️

““Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” ‭‭Exodus‬ ‭20:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Little Lies

Wed, 22 Nov 2017 02:30:25 -0600

Is there such a thing as a “little white lie”? I mean, isn’t a lie…a lie? Big or small, untruths between couples erode trust in a relationship. If you have a need to outright lie to your spouse, you might not be with the right person. And what about the sin of omission? Ok, I’ve been guilty of “rounding down a little” when reporting how much I spent on that little black dress I had to have or trying to maintain a secret surrounding a gift. And, if I’m going to be honest here, there have been times in my life when I have not been truthful in a relationship and I’m not married to that person anymore. Which brings up that point again…if you have a need to outright lie to your spouse, you might not be with the right person. I wasn’t way back when. Enough said.

I was thrilled when Mr. Virgo came along. He was a great communicator, which was quite refreshing for me. We told each other everything. We told each other stories. I loved his stories. He worked in 5-Star resorts, hotels, and restaurants around the world. He met fascinating people…celebrities, politicians, dignitaries, kings and queens. His stories were enthralling and he loved telling them as much as I loved hearing them.

Several weeks after Mr. Virgo died, I was going through his personal papers in his dresser and came upon things that shook me up. Things I didn’t know. Things I felt were out of character for the man I knew and loved. Oh, it wasn’t anything like a second family in another state or something of a criminal nature. It was credit cards I didn’t know about. A relationship he had had before me that he never told me about. A business he had lost that had debt I was unaware of. Little things, but little things add up to big things.

I didn’t know how to feel. I felt a little betrayed. I felt a little disappointed. I felt a little angry. It added to the sadness and devastation I was already feeling at his loss. I carried that around for a long time and never told anyone because I didn’t want to besmirch Mr. Virgo’s good name. And you know what happens when you hold things in…they rot and swell and become that abscess you need lanced or your soul will explode.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who went through this. But I’ve never really talked much about it till the other day I met someone going through the same thing I went through and I knew there was a post in there. I knew somewhere out there, there is at least one person who needs to hear how I handled that, so here we are.

When I first stumbled across information that I had not known when Mr. Virgo was alive, I was confused. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking at. Grief brain addles your mind anyway. Add conflicting information and I was stumped. I wrote things down, made notes, compared conversations till I had a pretty good idea what I was looking at. Then I started the process of reconciling that information and asked myself a number of questions.

Does this new information change how you KNOW you feel about him…how you’ve felt about him since the beginning?

For me, the answer was a resounding “No!”

Did he love me? “Yes…more than life itself!”

Why did he not tell me? “He didn’t want to…for whatever reason…and that was his choice to make.”

If I would have known this information before I married him, would I have gone through with the wedding? “Oh, h*** yeah!”

Mr. Virgo is still the same man I knew and loved and grieve for. The only thing that has changed is thought. Yes, there was some debt to contend with that I wasn’t expecting. That is what life insurance policies are for…debt, funeral expenses, and living expenses till you can stand up and breathe again. It wasn’t much, but it helped me get through the messiness. The relationship he had before me that I didn’t know about? Who cares? He married me. The credit cards I didn’t know about? That is still a puzzle, but one I’ve had to let go of. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter.

Unless it’s something criminal, or there’s a whole secret family you didn’t know about, my advice is…let it go. Obsessing over things never changes the past. It only sullies the present and tarnishes future memories. They make mistakes…they sin…they’re human. Let it go. I prefer to preserve that special relationship I felt before I rummaged around in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It’s better this way. ❤️

“Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.” ‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭2:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Long Goodbye

Wed, 15 Nov 2017 02:30:40 -0600

I have a longtime friend…I’ll call her Betty. Betty is retired. She was a child and family counselor…and a darned good one. She is kind, gentle, tender in her approach. She was an intuitive therapist. She raised a beautiful family. She had struggles along the way, as we all do. Some of hers were really difficult. But, in the end, she is still with the same loving spouse, and her children are thriving.

Several months ago, Betty contacted me and asked me to go to lunch with her. It was there that she revealed she had been diagnosed with dementia. It was hereditary, she explained. She already saw the signs and was struggling a bit. She wanted to thank me for teaching her to quilt because it has been a favorite pastime for her the last few years. Her legacy is in the quilts she stitched by hand as well as the books she wrote.

Betty’s biggest worry, she told me over lunch, was being a burden to her family and friends. She told me she was going to become more involved in Facebook as a way to stay engaged and interested. She didn’t want to disappear into the shadows of her mind. I encouraged her to write and remain present as long as she could. In true Betty fashion, she turned her Facebook page into a lesson…of love, of courage, of perseverance. She used to send me private messages occasionally. Bringing an article to my attention. Sharing a travel photo. Sharing a memory. Then the private messages stopped. A few days ago, she shared that her dementia was worsening…right on schedule. She doesn’t leave the house much anymore. She realizes how much she is forgetting and she hopes she isn’t boring any of us. I told her this:

We love you. We cannot fully understand what you are going through. But, we can certainly empathize. It must feel like you are leaving on a cruise ship and the people on the shore are getting further and further away till they disappear. But here’s the good news. The land to which you will eventually arrive has streets paved in gold. There will be no more illness and pain. Only love and joy. And when you can no longer feel our hands, turn around and reach for His. He is always waiting for us with arms wide open.

It’s been a long goodbye. And while I will miss her sweet, gentle posts with pictures of “Home”, I know for a fact she is surrounded by people who love her very much. They will support her as best they can. They will guard her and protect her and wish her bon voyage. I do not know where she will go when she gets lost in her mind. But I hope it will be pleasant and not painful for her. Safe travels, my friend. I will see you on the other side. ❤️

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23:1-6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

He Will Cover You With His Feathers...

Tue, 07 Nov 2017 02:30:26 -0600

Mr. Fixit is doing some cleaning up and updating at his house. We make a really good team working on projects together and he is constantly amazed at the things I can do. I think it really shocked him at first when I did jobs around the farm that may have been labeled “men’s work” in an earlier time. He’ll still watch me do something and shake his head. I usually look at him and say “What?!” He’ll laugh and say, “You amaze me, that’s all. You’re a remarkable woman!” I love that. I love being considered a remarkable woman by a man I greatly admire. It makes me feel both feminine and empowered at the same time.

Somewhere in the midst of moving things around at his house the other day, Mr. Fixit stumbled upon a book called Lists to Live by for Every Married Couple. Even though we aren’t married, we figured since we’re a couple, the book ought to work for us as well. Every evening we sit down and read a few pages and discuss the lists. There are lists of activities to do, things to say, things NOT to say, good habits…you know, common sense things that keep marriages (and couples in relationships) on an even keel as they navigate this journey called life. And even though this isn’t our first rodeo, it’s our first in this particular one, so it doesn’t hurt to read.

I like that these lists have faith-based items on them. Pray for your partner. Tell your partner you are praying for them. Read the Bible. Go to church. Mr. Fixit hadn’t been to church for thirty-five years until I came along. I never pushed him to go. I just told him that’s where I’d be every Sunday morning. And I was. And one day he said he might go with me every once in awhile. Not every week…but, once in a while. I smiled and said I would love that. Again…no pressure. Then came the Sunday he went with me. Easter, I think. When we came out, his eyes were lit up with a fire! He was so excited. He’d never experienced church like this. He had always fallen asleep in church. THIS church grabbed his attention and kept him engaged the entire service. He’s gone with me every Sunday since unless one or the other of us is traveling.

This is something new for me, as well. To have someone want to go to church with me every week. To hold my hand during worship and prayer. Someone to sing with me. A voice I recognize praying next to me. This has become a big part of our bonding experience. There should be three people in every relationship…you, your significant other, and God. If both of you keep God at the top of the triangle and you both strive to climb closer to Him…you cannot help but get closer to each other. It’s simple geometry.

When trouble comes into our life, either in the form of tragedy in the news or something that affects us on a more personal level, we remember that God wraps us in His feathers and we can find refuge there. We needn’t be afraid of the things of the world. I watched the news again last night and saw the follow up stories surrounding the shooting in Texas. I watched the mother, the pastor’s wife, whose fourteen year old daughter was killed. I saw her model grace in the wake of an unspeakable loss. And this verse came to me. What a remarkable example of trust. Of faith. Of absolute assurance she will see her child again. I was in awe.

My heart is with those mourning losses today. My prayer is they will find refuge under His wings. ❤️

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭91:4-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When It’s All Bad News

Mon, 06 Nov 2017 02:30:02 -0600

I watched the news last night and was reminded why I don’t watch the news. The sadness in my gut, the fear in the front of my mind, the sorrow for families of loved ones lost to senseless tragedy is unbearable. The news came through an alert on my cell phone as we left church yesterday. I grabbed Mr. Fixit’s hand and shared. His jaw clenched as he gripped my hand, silently taking it all in. Thinking…no doubt…that it could have been us.

Church. Church is where we’re supposed to feel utterly safe. Yesterday’s tragedy in Texas was the third mass shooting in the last seventeen months…all of which were among the worst in U.S. history, according to USA Today. I don’t know about you, but I look around more these days. I wonder about people I don’t know. I ask myself if they could hurt me…or my loved ones. It’s taxing. I’m feeling the strain of fear. I don’t like this. I don’t like worrying. I don’t like wondering, not IF, but WHEN will it strike close to home?

There is evil loose in this world and we’ve been rocked to sleep…complacent in our busyness. In our rush to beat the clock and get the most out of every day. Lists need to be made and checked off. Appointments need to be scheduled and kept. And the enemy doesn’t give a darn about any of it. He is only here to seek, kill, and destroy. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. He distracts us with the sparklies then swoops in with the spear…or, in this case, an assault rifle.

When bad things happen and you are simultaneously grieving, everything is compounded and spins out of control. It’s difficult to remember there IS control in this world. There IS a winner. There IS a great comforter. When I hear and see reports of things like the shooting yesterday in Texas, I am inclined to feel fear. That fear is from the enemy. However, when I turn to God, He reminds me to put my trust in Him. The enemy whispers…”Ahhhh, yes. But will that bring back the twenty plus lost yesterday? What good is your trust if your God can’t save His people?”

The enemy will not deter my faith. God doesn’t cause these horrific tragedies to occur. It breaks His heart to see his children suffer. What He DOES want is for us to turn to Him for comfort and solace in times of trouble. He wants us to continue to love. We love….because first, He loved us. There will always be senseless tragedies that we can’t explain. But…there will come a day when the things of this world will melt away and we will be freed from the shackles of fear and pain.

I pray for the families of the innocents lost. I pray for the victims of this senseless shooting. I pray for the first responders and the citizens of this very small town in Texas where everyone knew everyone else. I pray for the family and friends of the shooter who may have known something was off…may have tried to get him help…may have never dreamed this could have happened. And I pray for the soul of the shooter. He could not possibly have been in his right mind so I pray for any healthcare workers who may have tried to help him but couldn’t. I pray for the pastor of the church where the shootings occured and for his wife. They were not at the church yesterday…but their fourteen-year-old daughter was one of those killed.

No, I will not roll over…I will not let satan win by becoming consumed with fear and loathing. I will keep my faith in God and let Him sort the rest out. That being said…I will make my feelings about gun safety known to my elected officials. God wants us to turn to Him…but he needs us to suit up and show up and go into battle, too. ❤️

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Sweetness

Sun, 05 Nov 2017 02:30:40 -0600

It seems like yesterday when I traced the delicate shell of my first baby’s ear. She was so tiny at just over five pounds. I was terrified I would break her. That was forty-three years ago. Twenty-seven years ago, I did the same thing with my second daughter. Thirteen years have passed since my first grandchild was in my arms and ten since I cradled her little sister. I thought it would be a long time before I got to hold a little baby again. But, along with Mr. FixIt came a brand new great grandchild and I’m in love all over again!

Oh, this makes me ache for Big and Little…my sweet grand daughters in Colorado. I won’t get to see them till Christmastime. They are growing so fast…and without me. This is the hard part…the only downside…of living in West Virginia. Being so far away from my family. I wish I could tie a rope around Colorado and a rope around West Virginia and pull them closer together. My heart has two homes and sometimes it really hurts when I’m away from those I love. Holding this little sweet thing (who I am SURE is going to call me Gigi!) brings me all kinds of feels.

We had a first yesterday. Our first dinner party together was quite successful. I used that electric pressure cooker again. This time I cooked a pork roast. Mr. Virgo only wanted pork roasts actually ROASTED in the over with EVO, garlic salt and pepper. I seared this roast in a hot skillet then placed it on a bed of sliced onions in the bottom of that pressure cooker, sprinkled it with fresh ground salt, pepper, rustic herbs and garlic and two cups of water. I cooked it on high for 45 minutes then turned it off and let the pressure come down on its own. I opened it and checked the meat and it wasn’t quite tender enough. I cooked it another 45 minutes (it was a big roast) and released the pressure. I let the roast rest in its juices while I made mashed potatoes, fried sauerkraut, green beans, fried apples and hot rolls. When the guests arrived, I tore off chunks of the roast with a fork and served it with the rest of the fixings on the side. It was wonderful and we all had a fun evening filled with fellowship and laughter.

In case you forgot, daylight saving time is over. Turn your clocks back an hour. Have a blessed Sunday, dear ones. ❤️

“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭3:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I Spy With My Little Eye...

Sat, 04 Nov 2017 01:30:20 -0600

Some very observant readers picked up on something in my picture yesterday. My inbox lit up like a Christmas tree! I didn’t answer the questions directly and suggested they come back today to read my post. I love a little mystery. What was it they saw? A ring…a shiny ring…on my left hand!!! squeeeee

Yes, I have a ring! And in all fairness, so does Mr. FixIt. I gave him his first though. So here’s how it went down, what it means, and how we’re feeling about it.

Early in the year, just a couple months after Mr. FixIt and I started seeing each other, we found out there was something wrong with his blood. The initial thoughts were he had leukemia. Suffice it to say, we were both pretty devastated about it. After all, we just “found” each other again after 45 years. It would be terribly tragic to turn around and lose him, too. He had more tests run and they were worse, so we went for a bone marrow biopsy.

We had been talking about a life long commitment but that’s as far as it had gone. Then the blood thing came up. I wanted some way, some outward sign that would show Mr. FixIt that…no matter what the results of this bone marrow biopsy, I was in this for the long haul. I didn’t want him to worry or be afraid. I happened upon a beautiful gentlemen’s ring and in a moment of impulse, I bought it. We were leaving for the hospital when I pulled out the box and told him I wanted him to know…good or bad…I’m not going anywhere. I thought he was going to cry. He knew I was sticking with him, but the gesture was not lost on him. He asked if this meant we were engaged. Smiling, I said, “Halfway.”

One evening we were going out to dinner with friends and I stopped by Mr. FixIt’s to get ready. I was sitting out front when he came home. He said, “Oh! You’re wearing my favorite dress!” I stood up and twirled around. He had a concerned look on his face and I thought. “Uh-oh. Somethings wrong.” He looked at me and said the dress was missing something. Something sparkly. Then he gave me this beautiful ring!

Here’s where it gets complicated. This is the most personal I’ll ever get about our relationship. I don’t want to get married again. At least, not in the conventional way. I’ve had three husbands. That’s two other women’s quotas. It has nothing to do with how much I love Mr. FixIt…or Mr. Virgo, for that matter. When women of a certain age become widows, they qualify for “widow’s benefits”. If they get married, they lose that. Things don’t work in the widow’s favor in this regard. Therefore, a lot of very long engagements take place in my age bracket. And that’s just fine.

From a faith standpoint, it slays me that women are forced to lose income in order to do what God says to do. Someone said to me…”Well, you aren’t trusting God to provide.” To which my answer is…maybe He already provided. Maybe those widow’s benefits ARE his answer to prayer. The Lord takes care of those who help themselves. To me, it would be crazy to throw away money He had provided.

Long engagements are still in vogue. I will be here for the long haul. The rest is a matter of semantics. So, no…there’s no date set. No fanfare. No hoopla. Just love. Lots and lots of love…always and forever. I’m sure I’ll be talking to God about it when I get to Heaven. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long conversation! ❤️

Edit: He still has an abnormality which they have determined is not leukemia. They still don’t know what it is. We have to repeat the tests in six months. I’m sorry. I was writing this late and missed that piece.

“…..may you ever be intoxicated with her love.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭5:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Soup...Nature’s Tranquilizer

Sat, 28 Oct 2017 01:30:02 -0600

It was twenty-seven degrees here at the farm yesterday morning when I sent Mr. FixIt off on a guys trip to North Carolina. This leaves me on my own till Sunday night. I love this man…I truly do. AND, I love my alone time on occasion, so I’m sitting here in the dining room, in front of Grandma’s favorite window, classical music playing softly in the background. It is lovely outside…nearly sixty degrees, sunny, the last of the autumn leaves clinging desperately to the branches like quivering field mice bracing for winter’s chill. It is warm and cozy in this little, old farmhouse and I’m snug as a bug in a rug.

The other day I told you I was making pot roast in the pressure cooker. That night after dinner, I added a can of green beans, a small can of sliced carrots, a can of diced tomatoes, and the leftover potatoes from dinner to the crock pot. When I say “‘crock pot” and “pressure cooker”, I am talking about the same appliance that also is a steamer. When I got rid of most of my belongings and moved into the camper, I didn’t want to be without the conveniences of my kitchen appliances and there wasn’t room for everything. That’s when I ran across this wonderful gizmo that does it all. It’s not very big, but its big enough for two and leftovers aplenty.

I put the soup on and frankly…I forgot all about it till I was heading to bed. I came into the kitchen to lock the back door and noticed it was still cooking. Too hot to put in the fridge, I took the soup…pot and all…out to my truck and set it inside for the night as the temperature got down into the thirties. The next morning, I skimmed off the fat and plugged it back in to have ready for lunch. It was wonderful!

Mr. FixIt was heading into town after lunch to help his ex with something. I sent him off with a container of soup and some crackers for her. Why cater to the needs of an ex-wife? Because…divorce may change a relationship status, but you can still be family. There is Christian loving-kindness to be considered. She is moving this week into her first home of her own. I remember what that was like after my divorce. I wanted her to know she is loved and cared for. It is the same love and kindness extended toward me from my exes’ wives. You can be bitter and angry and full of resentment with a divorce. Or, you can embrace the new member into the family circle. I know that doesn’t work for everyone, but I choose love. I always choose love. ❤️

“We love because he first loved us.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

How Far Have We Really Come?

Fri, 27 Oct 2017 01:30:06 -0600

I have really been getting into nostalgia lately. The other day I shared my Pinterest page of Childhood Memories. When I have a few minutes, I go on and add a few more. It’s interesting how Pinterest works. When you click on something, you soon see more and more pins in that category and it’s been a fun walk down Memory Lane. Some of the memories I could do without, though.

Eventually, I started seeing ads…legitimate ads…that reminded me of a time before “political correctness” became de rigueur. Ads about keeping women in their “place”. Ads about making little girls feel less unacceptable by dressing them in Chubettes. Ads about keeping slim for your man by taking amphetamines or gaining weight if you’re too skinny in order to be more attractive to the opposite sex. It makes my blood boil that generations of women…including my own…were made to feel “less than”. To be objectified…categorized…scrutinized. Ads like this one. I mean, seriously…what is this even about? What are they saying? “Wear these stylin’ kicks and your woman will worship the ground you walk on. As an added bonus, she’ll do it fabric free!”

Finally…finally, finally, finally…these kinds of ads fell out of fashion. It became considered to be in poor taste to openly objectify women. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen…it most certainly does as is evidenced by current events being reported. People of power often take advantage of those seen to be beneath them or weaker than they. Hopefully, this is a gut check and might strike a more even balance of power in the future.

I was visiting one of the “widow pages” I frequent on Facebook the other day. The topic of one post was regarding the Hollywood actresses who went back to their abuser in order to get another part. She couldn’t understand how a woman could do that. This smacked dangerously close to blaming the victim so I had to step into the fray and offer my two cents. It IS difficult to understand how a woman could go back to the same circumstances and risk abuse again. That is, until you try to look through her lens. She’s an actress. It’s what she does. She depends on the power brokers of Hollywood to promote her, hire her, give her a break. The power broker knows this. He is emboldened…drunk with his position to make or break the careers of nubile young coeds. She (or he, as the case may be…actors are not exempt to abuse) knows what will happen if she is blackballed in Hollywood. She might as well go back to the Midwest or wherever she came from and get a job, because she or he will never work in Hollywood again. Everyone knows this. They just didn’t talk about it. And, finally…somebody told. The hoopla over it all will die down with the next news cycle but maybe some meaningful change will occur.

We’ve come a long way, to be sure and there’s so much further to go. I understand people’s frustration with “political correctness”…sometimes even I think it can be excessive. But, when I was growing up, it was called being polite, doing the right thing, showing respect. The Golden Rule. Good manners. And there’s nothing wrong with exercising plenty more of that. ❤️

“For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:14-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

An Act of Forgiveness

Fri, 13 Oct 2017 01:30:14 -0600

Disclaimer: This may be a trigger subject with some. It is dreadfully sad but it touched my heart and I wanted to share with you. It is about the Holocaust and Forgiveness.

Eva Kor was a young child when she and her twin were torn from their family upon arrival at Auschwitz, never to see them again. Under the direction of Dr. Mengele, they were both subjected to medical experiments that nearly killed them. By sheer will, they fought to survive and were liberated by Russian forces.

For fifty years, Eva held on to her position of “victim”…and rightly so. Her life had been forever altered in ways we cannot even begin to comprehend. She is all that is left of her family. As the 50th Anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz approached, she awoke one morning with an idea. What if she could forgive someone. She was often called upon to speak and recalled a Nazi doctor that had been at Auschwitz. She had met him at a conference. She figured he may still be alive so she found his phone number and worked up the courage to call him. I’ll let you watch the video and see how she found it in her heart to forgive the most heinous of acts.

youtu.be/gdgPAetNY…

We speak a lot here about forgiveness. Anger, bitterness, and resentment are the poisons we take hoping they will affect our enemies. Our enemies don’t care if we are eaten alive inside by negative emotions. They are going on with their lives in the nature of enemies…unknowing, uncaring. If my Lord and Savior has forgiven me of my sins, who am I to not do the same? I try to love others as Jesus loves me…even when they are my enemies. Eva’s act of forgiveness took a great deal of strength and courage. She was alienated from other Holocaust survivors for forgiving the Nazis who killed millions of their fellow citizens, friends, and family members. But she didn’t care. She didn’t do it for them. She did it for herself. I am in awe of that kind of heart…that spirit of forgiveness. My petty grievances pale in comparison. ❤️

“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:12-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Past the Breaking Point

Tue, 10 Oct 2017 01:30:25 -0600

Filicide. It’s something we don’t want to talk about…something we don’t understand. How could a mother kill her own children? It’s beyond our comprehension. How can someone be pushed so far that they would break like that? It goes against every grain. Yet, it happens.

There was a tragedy in West Virginia last week. A woman shot her two young children, then herself. The little boy was hanging on by a thread last I heard. The little girl and the mom are gone. I just learned last night that not one, but both children have/had special needs. I don’t know what they’re challenges are/were, but I do know what it’s like to grow up in a family with a special needs child. My brother was born with cerebral palsy and mild mental impairment. I will never forget the day the doctor gave Mom the prognosis. They told her he would never live a normal life. He wouldn’t drive or be able to take care of himself or hold a real job. She was devastated. Add to that a troubled marriage and it’s no wonder she suffered from migraines, anxiety, and depression.

About six years ago, I did a short stint as a substitute paraprofessional in a severe needs classroom at the elementary school where my older daughter taught. I couldn’t do it…and I grew up with this. I don’t know how teachers and parents keep from going over the edge. This mother had more than she could handle and she broke.

The news headline said “Let this be a wake up call.” Yes, let’s. There are few people who don’t know anyone affected by a special needs child in their circle…be it church or the hair salon or the bank or a neighbor. If you know someone, and you’ve never offered to help out, do something. A couple hour break could make a world of difference in an overwhelmed parent’s life. Take them a meal. Offer to cut their lawn. Give them a gift card to the grocery. Heck, give them a hug. Tell them, while you can’t understand exactly what they’re going through, you’d like them to know you’re there for whatever help you may be able to give them. Pray with them. Pray FOR them. If you can’t do any of these things, pray for God to open your heart to whatever He would want you to do.

My demographic here is 40-65 year old women mainly, so I guess I’m encouraging grandmas to do what grandmas do best…love on somebody that sorely needs it today. You never know who that outstretched hand may save. We cannot understand how horrible things like this can happen, but perhaps we can change the course by opening our hearts and loving people like Jesus does. ❤️

“Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked the people, but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” And he laid his hands on them and went away.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭19:13-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Losing Your Sense of Direction

Fri, 06 Oct 2017 01:30:53 -0600

There’s no quicker way to lose your inner compass than through the experience of grief. God built us to numb down so we don’t experience the loss in one gulp. I remember the first year. I was so numb from the neck up. I didn’t fully grasp what had happened to my world until the second year. THAT was the year of pain for me because I “woke up” and he was still gone. I didn’t know where to turn. I literally didn’t know which end was up. I couldn’t make intelligent choices. I couldn’t see further than today…maybe even this hour. It was terribly disconcerting to me to feel so out of control. It was terribly comforting to me when you all started writing back with things like “Yes! That’s me!” and “OMGosh! You’re in my head! How did you know?”

Losing your inner compass is normal in grief. Losing your sense of direction doesn’t just come with the loss of a loved one though. It can come with anything that shocks our sensibilities. And I can’t think of anything more shocking than the events of the last month. While I was out galavanting around, camping here and there, appearing at public events, being interviewed while flyfishing, sitting around the campfire with friends…events were taking place that were shattering our world and I was largely disconnected save for the occasional notification on my phone when I was in cell range.

Disclaimer: I’m not here to discuss politics. There are many, many sites where that is the theme. This is a safe place where we discuss grief and the things that effect it. That being said…I would be remiss if I sail along singing Kumbaya and not address the horrifying events that have hit us over and over and over the last few weeks.

Devastating hurricanes. Deadly earthquakes. Horrific mass murders. Huge breaches of electronic security. Every week…every day…it’s something. Another thing…another horror. It’s hard to feel safe in times like this when you aren’t grieving. Add the insecurity and emotional turmoil of loss to the mix and it’s so easy to lose your way…to lose direction…to lose hope.

Yes, there are political avenues that can and…in my humble opinion…should be implemented to curb events that can be curbed. I am an enigma. I am a diehard liberal Christian and Democrat with a gun. I believe in my right to carry and protect myself, my property, and my loved ones. If I need to hunt to eat, I need a weapon to do so. What I don’t need is an assault rifle, let alone forty-three of them, and I certainly don’t need one that shoots automatically. I might need a couple hundred rounds of ammo. I don’t need ten thousand. I might need some fertilizer for my garden. I don’t need enough to blow up a building. I need to protect my little corner of the world from nefarious interlopers. I’m fully aware not everyone agrees on these issues and I’m not here to debate politics or gun control or any “third rail” issue. This is a faith-based blog so I’m going to approach this from my own personal faith-based perspective.

I usually drive in silence. It’s my think time. But, occasionally I listen to a book on tape or a talk given by someone on a subject I am interested in. As events unfolded over the last month, I found myself getting upset and angry…a perfectly normal reaction to such chaos. Since losing Mr. Virgo, I’ve found it helpful to retreat within myself and become quiet and introspective in order to process additional loss. Now that I have Mr. FixIt in my life, I don’t have long stretches of time to silently contemplate my feelings, process them, and retrieve my bearings. I felt my fear grow and my frustration build to the point of lashing out at him when he did nothing but be kind and love me. I needed to fix that before it became a problem.

God always brings me what I need to walk through this path. Remember me telling you that we have to walk through fire in this life, but God throws gems down in the flames? We may not recognize the meaning of a particular gem, but we tuck it away because somewhere down the line, we’ll understand. When I was in Colorado, I went to a used book store looking for books on tape for the long drives I take traveling with TOW-Wanda. This time I found several presentations by such notables as Brené Brown, Pema Chodrin, and Joyce Meyers. I tucked them in the truck but didn’t listen to them on the trip home because Mr. FixIt was with me.

Last week I traveled up to Beaver Creek State Park and found the four hour block of time to listen to Pema Chodrin’s “Don’t Bite the Hook: Finding Freedom from Anger, Resentment, and Other Destructive Emotions”. Her basic premise boils down to finding compassion for the perpetrator. She spends the better part of three and a half hours explaining how to fight the addiction of anger and replace it with patience and compassion. Anger sits in the pit of our stomach. It’s uncomfortable and we lash out to release those pent up feelings. But, what if we allow ourselves to sit with that discomfort, recognize it as a temporary feeling, look at the person pissing us off and feel compassion? If that’s too hard, then at least just say…“OK, this person is pissing me off. I’m not biting that hook.” There is a difference between suppressing anger and diffusing it. Suppression will just place it in a pressure cooker and it becomes self-destructive. Diffusing it dissipates the energy and converts it into something self-soothing.

How does this relate to the current events in the world? Well, environmentally, these storms are getting more powerful, more frequent, and more destructive. As an environmentalist, one can get angry at politicians who refuse to believe in climate change. As one who believes this is a predictable cycle of nature, one can get angry at the “tree huggers” for leading the charge with “the sky is falling!” Earthquakes? Environmentalists are angry with the oil and gas industry for fracking and causing instability beneath the earths crust. Others are angry at such rhetoric saying the earth’s crust moves…deal with it. Mass shootings? The NRA will give you their guns when you pry them out of their cold, dead fingers as Charlton Heston so eloquently put it. Gun control advocates are angry that this just keeps happening over and over and over and nothing ever changes.

The common denominator in all of this is anger. Righteous indignation. Me against them. No one ever resolves conflict with increased conflict. The divisive nature prevalent in today’s world does nothing to diffuse anger. As a matter of fact, it seems its only point is to produce more anger and conflict. This is the work of the enemy. This is where my faith comes in. This battle has been fought for centuries and my personal belief is…the good guy wins in the end. My personal belief is…that which lives within me is more powerful than that which lives in the world. Lashing out at Mr. FixIt because I’m harboring anger over world events is counterproductive. So, how do I resolve that inner conflict? Through compassion.

How do we live out the compassion of Christ in such a dark time in this world? Turning to the Master Teacher, we can cry out for Him to teach us compassion. We can read about the ways Christ showed compassion to others…even his enemies. He touched those who were sick. Even the outcast…the untouchables with leprosy. He sought them out and ministered to them and healed them with just a touch. Race, religion, social or economic status…nothing kept Christ from touching the lives of others with love and tenderness. We can read about Jesus’ tears for the fallen. How He wept for those who refused to hear His teachings. How he asked His Heavenly Father to forgive those who crucified Him for they knew not what they were doing. That in and of itself is the ultimate display of compassion. The motivation behind all of Christ’s teachings throughout the New Testament is love and compassion.

So, how do you show compassion for someone who stands in a hotel room on the 32nd floor of a busy hotel and calmly executes 59 innocent people, wounds nearly 500, and changes the lives of thousand more…forever? For me, it comes from the realization that one does not do something like that unless they are not in their right mind. There is such evil in the world. Satan whispers into the lives and hearts of vulnerable people and leads them to do unimaginable, unspeakable things. My response is to pour out more love…to try to tip the scales of the world toward goodness and light. Not with a Pollyannaesque naïveté, but with the pure, genuine love and compassion expemplified by Jesus.

It’s a scary world. I saw Mr. FixIt’s first little greatgrandchild this week. I held this tiny, perfect little human in my hands and prayed hard that God would keep her safe in this great big place. It hits hard when a new life is placed in your hands. In the end, the left wing and the right wing belong to the same bird. We really are in this together. There is one race…the human race…and if we want to keep going, we are going to have to find a way to come together, to get along.

Ok, we went to church there…but, in my humble opinion…this world needs more light. For me, it is through Christ, who strengthens me. For others, it may be different. But by whatever means available, the answer to everything is love and compassion. ❤️

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:12-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Tethered to God

Mon, 25 Sep 2017 01:55:16 -0600

A ship that slips its moorings is quickly swept to sea. At the mercy of the wind and the waves, it may sink to the briny depths, never to be seen again. Our relationship with God is much the same way. If we remain tethered to Him, we can weather any storm, but…let go and all bets are off. HE never lets go of us. It is always the other way around.

Mr. FixIt and I have been attending the 5:00pm service at our church. It gives us all day on Sunday to enjoy the farm, then head to town about 4:00. He bowls on Sundays at 7:00 so it works out to be a good time for us. Last night’s sermon was on the detours life gives us. There are two types of detours. The kind we take ourselves on when we become untethered from God and the kind God takes us on.

We are so egocentric, we think God is punishing us if we can see what He intends to give us, but he takes us the long way around instead. These trials weren’t necessarily orchestrated by God. He has a much bigger world view than we do. His grand view takes us through these trials so that we CAN have the reward He has in mind for us…even if it’s not delivered in this world. Our job is to hang on and remain tethered to Him. He is our anchor.

We all have trials in this world. God uses those trials. Not as punishment. But as a way to hone us into the person He intends us to be. Suffering produces perseverance. Perseverance, character. And character, hope.

I have a speaking engagement this evening at a local church. I’m really looking forward to that and always pray God brings me every opportunity to praise Him and share with others how He has blessed me.

Have a Happy Monday! ❤️

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:1-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

An Unlikey Pair

Sat, 02 Sep 2017 01:55:28 -0600

I’ve been living on the farm a little over a year now. It went so fast, yet…as with many things…it seems so much longer. Not long after I got settled in, I began to notice an odd pair of friends at the house down the road. You never see one without the other and I cannot help but smile when I see them. They never leave the yard, wandering about nibbling up bugs and grass.

I don’t know the story behind these two. The family who lives there lost their mom several years ago so it’s just the guys on their own. They all work a lot and the house and grounds seem to be well cared for, but I rarely see anyone….just the turkey and the duck.

As Mr. FixIt and I drove to town yesterday, I asked him to stop in the rain so I could take their picture. As soon as the car stopped, the turkey laid down. The duck never moved from the turkey’s side, but he set to squawking like crazy to let me know he didn’t like the intrusion. We sat by the road and talked to them for a bit then moved on. We forgot something and had to go back to the house and when we came back down the road, the fowl confab had moved behind the house to eat uninterrupted.

I thought about this pair all the way to town and wondered…Why can’t we ALL just get along like that? Those two don’t know they’re different. They just like each other’s company. Now, I’m not going to get into a political discussion. I’m not “choosing sides”. I just think we could take a lesson or two from this turkey and duck. We only have one race…the human race. We only have one life…this one. We are being divided and I’m not sure by whom. Media? Politicians? Special interest groups? Who know…who cares? I just want to love my fellow man like this duck loves this turkey.

God created us all. He gave us the rule book. We can’t do this divided. The enemy wants us to fail. And if he can get us to do his dirty work for him and make us destroy each other…well, that’s just icing on the cake. Shine your light, people. Walk out in faith and fight for truth and justice….for all! ❤️

“Do we not all have one Father? Did not one God create us? Why do we profane the covenant of our ancestors by being unfaithful to one another?” ‭‭Malachi‬ ‭2:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

A Surprising Find

Wed, 30 Aug 2017 01:55:43 -0600

Yesterday’s post about the old Lily Pond in City Park sparked a debate as to which pond was actually the one with all the lilies on it…the big one that is still there or the smaller one that was taken out many years ago. I set out to do some research on Roger Mackey’s page. Roger is a fine historian on West Virginia, and Parkersburg in particular. He has pages and pages of historic photos of everything from the old movie theaters to natural disasters…from the society elite to skid row…and all things in between. I can get lost for hours looking through his old photos. It’s like going into an antique store for me.

As I browsed through the titles of the different pages, looking for City Park, I saw the page for Greiner’s Bakery and clicked on it. My paternal grandmother decorated cakes for Greiner’s for many, many years. The Bakery sat near the corner of my high school campus and every afternoon the smell of fresh baked bread wafted in through the open windows of my classroom, drawing my attention quickly away from the dry lectures my chemistry teacher gave.

I could hardly wait till school was out each afternoon. I would meet my cousin Mike and walk up the alley to Grandmother’s house. She always had a dozen raised glazed donuts and a galling of ice cold milk waiting for us. We made quick work of those delicious treats. She called them “seconds”, which meant they were accidentally dropped in the glaze twice! Their loss was definitely our gain!

As I scrolled down the old photos and read the descriptions, I stumbled across two special ones that caused a rush of memories and a great big smile. First, there was this photo of the company Christmas Party. I scanned the faces, and there…to the left…is my grandmother, smiling broadly into the camera! My relationship with my dad’s mother was complicated by her dislike for my father. I never quite understood my standing in her world, but I do have many fond memories of her. She baked and decorated wonderful cakes. She instilled her loved of seeing and crafting in me. She made the best chicken and dumplings I ever ate. She also forced me to drink unsweetened sage tea as she believed my pale skin was secondary to intestinal parasites. To this day, I cannot stomach sage.

I remember the house she lived in on Avery Street. Avery was one of the old brick streets in town. Grandmother’s house was a half block from a huge cemetery and just two blocks from my high school. She rented the lower level of a two story house. The landlady lived upstairs with her cocker spaniel, Honey. Honey would cry and howl every time her mama would leave the house and it made me so sad. The front porch was large and covered. There was a swing and room for several chairs.

The interior of the house was dark and quiet. The mahogany hardwood floors were covered with thick oriental rugs. The mantel in the front room had a clock that chimed the hour. The dining room was set up as her sewing room…an old, low, armless rocker sat in the corner. The bedroom was comfortable. A silver ladies dresser set was on the top with a brush, a comb, a mirror, a small cup for bobby pins, and a covered powder container filled with the pale grey webbing of hair nets. The tines of the comb were blue from the rinse my grandmother religiously put on her hair. The bathroom had doors to the bedroom and the kitchen. I loved the claw foot tub. I received many Toni home perms in that bathroom. The kitchen had tall, white painted cabinets and a long, deep farm sink. It was the brightest room in the house. The counters were covered with African violets growing in every possible container…including teacups. The backdoor let out to a postage stamp yard with a huge holly tree. A dogwood graced the front yard. Bits of slate tiles lay here and there around the perimeter of the house. I was lucky and found a whole one once that crash landed in the flower bed. I used it as a blackboard when I played school.

As I scrolled past the picture with my grandmother in it, I came to a shot of the display windows in one of the newer stores. There in the left is a doll cake. Oh, my…I coveted that cake every year, begging my grandmother for one for my birthday. When I finally got one, I was elated…especially when I found out the doll’s legs were embedded in rich, buttercream frosting! The “dress” was decorated with loops and swags and flowers and I thought it was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.

Complicated family relationships can lead to a lifetime of resentment and hurt feelings. The other day, my post was all about forgiveness setting you free. Forgiveness hasn’t rewritten history, per se. But it has allowed me to focus on the good memories I have of my father and his family. And as an adult, I have had the utmost good fortune of getting to know my cousins from that side of the family and I have been greatly blessed by that. It is never too late to change your focus and see the good parts of your past. Yesterday’s treasured finds have reminded me of that. ❤️

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭10:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Forgiveness

Mon, 28 Aug 2017 01:55:55 -0600

We had a guest speaker at church yesterday and man…did he deliver! So here we go…it’s time for some Monday Morning Motivation. We’re going to church.

Forgiveness. Such a simple word that is packed full of power. We all need forgiveness for something. Something we’ve done that has hurt others. Hurt ourselves. Or maybe, something we did in the dark that no one knows about. Thing is….someone knows. Someone always knows. You know. And God knows.

“would not God discover this? For he knows the secrets of the heart.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭44:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Our guest pastor was Pace Hartfield of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. He tells a story of the first night his father let him drive his mother’s brand new car when he turned sixteen. There was just one caveat…he was not to leave town. So, of course, he left town. And had an accident. He had hoped to leave his dad in the dark, cruise 22nd Street with his homey, Andy, and get back with his dad none the wiser. But the deed was exposed. There was the damage to the car. And the police report. There was no way around it. Pace’s dad didn’t yell at him. He didn’t beat him. He grounded him. He also informed him he had lost his father’s trust. He would have preferred the beating, I am sure.

How many time have we lost the trust of others by our deeds? How many others have trespassed against us and we have lost our trust in them? As Pace pointed out so eloquently, forgiveness requires exposure. And that exposure creates vulnerability. Oh, we hate feeling vulnerable, don’t we? We can get stuck in that exposure and vulnerability and feel shame without forgiveness. It is the forgiveness that sets us free. That frees others. Who have you literally held hostage for years by not forgiving them?

The guest pastor spoke of the woman who was caught in the act of adultery. The religious leaders tried to set Jesus up by bringing the woman before him in the temple where he was teaching. They were loud and raucous and challenged Jesus to do something with her. Instead, he ignored them and stopped down to write in the sand. The leaders were outraged and became even louder. Jesus quietly stood up and said, “Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” He then went back to writing in the sand. One by one, the leaders left without stoning the woman till they were left alone in the temple. Jesus knew what she had done. But he loved her anyway. He did not condone what she had done, and instead offered her forgiveness and sent her on her way with the admonishment to “Go and sin no more.”

We all sin. We all make mistakes. We feel guilt and shame. But we are forgiven and we are loved. Forgiveness sets us free from the bondage we place on ourselves, on others, by others. I often quote Maya Angelou…“We do what we know and when we know better, we do better.” Well, sometimes we know better and we do it anyway. Yet, still…we are loved and forgiven by a good, good Father. Our work here is to love and forgive in the same way. ❤️

“The eyes of the LORD are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭15:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Relationship

Tue, 18 Oct 2016 01:30:01 -0600

Someone torched a Republican campaign office in North Carolina over the weekend. They threw a Molotov cocktail through the front window and painted swastikas on the front along with demands they leave the area "or else". In a remarkable show of grace, local Democrats raised $13,000 and gave it to the Republicans with the comment "Now is the time for graciousness...not fractiousness." I felt encouraged.

We vote the 8th...but what's going to happen November 9th? There's going to be a winner. And...there's going to be a loser. We don't all get a trophy just because we played the game. This isn't kindergarten. There are going to be a lot of angry people on that particular Wednesday morning. And likely for some time after. Someone is going to have to give or this is no better than two cars playing chicken at a one lane bridge.

Relationship. Somehow we're going to have to put the U back in United. The Bible says..."Love your enemy." Unless we want another repeat of the Civil War, we need to all get along. I pray for the other camp every day...even when it makes me uncomfortable. Especially BECAUSE it makes me uncomfortable. We might as well start praying those extra prayers for grace now, because come November 9th...we're going to need them.

❤️

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ. For the wrongdoer will be paid back for the wrong he has done, and there is no partiality.”
‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:23-25‬ ‭

To the Estranged...

Sun, 05 Jun 2016 01:30:11 -0600

It must be very difficult for you to want something when it's too late. When I read your words in the message you sent, I could read between the lines and feel your pain, your anger, your frustration. You want memories. I'm sorry...the memories I have don't include you because you weren't there. Memories can't be given. They have to be created. You want stuff? I sent the things he asked me to send. There isn't anything else. Money? Well, there was debt. You want part of that? I haven't asked that of anyone but if you're offering...

There are consequences of behaviors. When you do not participate in someone's life, when they reach out and are repeatedly turned away, you don't get to come back three years later and complain you have no memories. I can't make those for you. All three of you made choices. He's gone and now it's you two who have to live with the consequences.

I'm not insensitive to your plight. I tried all my life to have a relationship with my father. Then I got mad and pulled away and wouldn't have anything to do with him, even when he made modest attempts to reach out. I tried again as an adult but we could never have the fairytale ending. We never had the father-daughter dance. My dad was a mean alcoholic who verbally and emotionally abused us. He once stood in front of me in the kitchen with a loaded rifle and begged my mom to kill him. I was 10. When my parents divorced, he moved away, got sober, found Jesus, and married a childhood friend. The man everyone mourned at his funeral was not the same man I grew up with. I didn't know the man we buried.

I don't know what happened between you and your dad. I wasn't there. I know he was a stubborn man...a proud man. I know he didn't understand, nor have any patience for, female drama and angst. He didn't understand being told he was never there for you when he worked such long hours to provide for you financially. He was crushed by your Father's Day Facebook declaration that the day meant nothing to you since you never really had a father. You know he read that, right? Your point was well taken. He gave up trying but, he never...said...a word.

Grief is a difficult path all on its own. Compound it with estrangement and it's a messy affair, to be sure. I hope you find closure somehow. I know it took a while for me. You broke off all communication with me a few months after he died and I have no way of reaching you so I'll just leave this here. You'll probably never see it, but others will and it might help them. I know you and I aren't the only people who are/were estranged from a parent. I will pray for you both for every success, every joy, every moment of peace you deserve.

Nothing but love...

❤️

““Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”
Exodus 20:12 NIV

Surviving Who I Tried to Be

Sat, 04 Jun 2016 01:30:32 -0600

My ex and his wife just bought a huge new house on three acres. I'm happy for them. Seriously. They've worked hard for what they've grown together and they are two beautiful souls. And, even though I am happy for them, when I saw that house, I felt the tiniest little squeeze of jealousy. A fleeting thought crossed my mind. "That could have been me. That could have been my house!" Then I smiled at that petulant child and said, "Hush now and remember who you are."

For a long, long time I tried to be something I wasn't. I wore masks and different costumes, trying this one and that to see what fit...to find my identity. My identity was fractured in my youth by dysfunction and sexual abuse. I longed to be understood yet I had no words to express what I was feeling. I remember a period of time when I couldn't see my face in the mirror. I was a mess.

Things got so bad. I built a house of cards and it was just a matter of time till they all came crashing down around me. I tried to be Jewish. I tried to be a good doctor's wife. I tried to put on a happy face...till I didn't have the energy to try anymore. When everything came crashing down, it was devastating to a lot of people. We are all changed because of it. But we survived. And now we're stronger and much more real.

Yes, they have a beautiful home. And so do I. My home is portable. I can park it anywhere. I can change my view on a whim. I have no grass to mow, no fences to mend. I can carry everything I own on eight wheels. I have no mortgage. My living expenses are fairly minimal. All those things are pluses in my book. Thank God I don't wear a mask now. I don't try to be something I'm not. I don't tap dance for my supper anymore. And that is living on a grand scale.

❤️

“For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice.”
James 3:16 NIV

The Elephant

Tue, 31 May 2016 01:30:55 -0600

A long time ago, my second husband and I lived with an elephant. It was called "The Things Which Shall Never Be Discussed". And...we never discussed it. We put a doily on it and called it a table. Eventually, as little elephants are wont to do, it grew and grew till it filled up the room and there was no choice...one of us was going to have to be brave. So, I asked the difficult questions. Which in turn gave me the difficult answers. But, I'd rather have the difficult answers than live with an elephant.

Grief is an elephant in my house. I haven't exactly been putting a doily on it, but I also haven't been addressing it directly for quite a while. And this weekend, the elephant in the room turned right around and bit me. Memorial Day forces me to look for Mr. Virgo. Other things do, too...so maybe it was just coincidental that the elephant woke up this weekend. Who knows? The point is, grief can lie dormant for awhile only to raise its ugly head at the most inopportune moment.

I was driving out the road toward the river. I had experienced a little disappointment earlier. The sun was setting and the light turned that soft golden-green of late Spring, the pink tinged clouds reflecting off the river. And then...Annie's Song came on the radio. Mr. Virgo hired a guitarist regularly to play for happy hour at the Ritz. Some time after Mr. Virgo's death, the Ritz planted a tree in his memory and held a lovely dedication ceremony to which they invited me. The guitarist was there and told how that was the song my husband always requested. The beauty of the day and the melancholic tune broke my heart open...yet again. Then fresh tears came last night when my dear friend Jeanne sent me a picture of the flowers she placed on Mr. Virgo's grave for me for Memorial Day.

Sometimes a good cry is all that's needed to clear your vision. It releases hormones that comfort you. I try not to suppress a good cry. And, I'll try not to avoid the elephant so much in the future. Elephants are easier to deal with when they're little.

❤️

“Record my misery; list my tears on your scroll — are they not in your record?”
Psalm 56:8 NIV

Love Languages

Wed, 20 Apr 2016 01:30:42 -0600

I had a profound insight yesterday. I mean....deeply profound, as in "How could I possibly have been with that man for 21 years and not "get" this?" I had my hand on someone's shoulder and I could feel the discomfort this caused. I didn't think it was in an "I don't like YOU" sort of way, but I could tell something was amiss. So, I asked. "Does my touching you make you uncomfortable?" The answer was, "I'm just not a real touchy person. It isn't personal." Knowing this person as I do, I believe that.

I went about my day, met a friend for lunch, and ran errands. Sometime in the afternoon, I flashed back to my second marriage. My ex-husband was not a touchy-feely person. It is not his "love language". David Chapman wrote a book in 1995, The Five Love Languages. We express our love and affection by gifts, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service (devotion), and physical touch. According to Chapman, "your chosen love language is the way you would most like to receive love from your companion." Physical touch and words of affirmation are my choices. Looking back, I would say my ex's was acts of service. You're not supposed to give what you want to receive. You're supposed to give what your partner CAN receive. Wow.

I spent the first ten years of that marriage trying to make him into a touchy feely guy. I spent the second ten years trying to pretend it didn't matter to me. It never, ever occurred to me to ASK him if touching bothered him. It just ticked me off that he wouldn't snuggle. After all, I was doing my level best to TEACH him. Oh, my gosh! He must have felt so smothered and overwhelmed with me fawning all over him all the time. Communication. Why does it have to be so tricky when you're young?

I have always been a very physical person. I'm expansive and wave my hands around to emphasize points in a story. I love on people freely. I can't help it....love just overflows and I sometimes don't know what to do with it all because I love everybody. I didn't realize things might have been different with my ex if we both would have learned a new language instead of being so angry that we didn't speak the same one. Honestly, it probably wouldn't have made a difference in the outcome of that relationship but this was quite an eye opener. Why do we have to get to our 60's before we really start to "get" it?

❤️

“Take control of what I say, O LORD, and guard my lips.”
Psalms 141:3 NLT

Make Love, Not War

Sat, 05 Mar 2016 02:30:31 -0600

The angry, hateful rhetoric being slung around like a bunch of schoolyard bullies continues to dismay me. And it makes me wonder...where are the hippies? Where are the pacifists, the tree huggers, the flower children? I want them back. I want them to protest. I want them to stand up and say, "No...we won't take this!" I want them to put flowers into the weapons that are destroying us!

Where are they? What happened to Flower Power? We fought for something. We stood up for our rights. Everyone seems so complacent anymore. I have nothing to say about who you vote for. It is your right to choose in this country. But I do have to ask you...BEG you to exercise your right to vote. It's an important right that was hard fought for.

I wanted to be a hippie but my mom wouldn't let me. Wanda Belle would have tanned my hide if I acted like a "wild nelly". I know every generation thinks the world is going to h$&@ in a hand basket, but we've never seen anything like this. I want the peace freaks back.

What do you all think? Where did they go?

✌️❤️?

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
Matthew 5:9 NIV

Goodbyes

Fri, 05 Feb 2016 02:30:06 -0600

A little over seven years ago, my dad died. He had Alzheimer's Disease and was in a nursing home. He was just shy of 88 years old. Dad and I didn't have a comfortable relationship. While I've been told by others how he bragged on me and professed his love for me, I saw very little evidence of those feelings my entire life. He was an active alcoholic when I was growing up and seemed to revert to his old behaviors whenever we were together.

I buried his ashes on that far river bank there. It was a hot September day...a Thursday, just two days after the memorial service. I'm not sure how or why I was put in the position of deciding his funeral arrangements since he had remarried many, many years ago and his wife was living. But, however it happened, I selected cremation. To my knowledge, Dad had never given any directives as to funeral arrangements. In my mind, cremation suited him. He was a fisherman and was much happier on a river bank than with his family. So, I selected this as his final resting place. As you can see, the river is up, so his ashes have long since met the Mississippi Delta.

I came here yesterday to see his wife. She is in the same nursing home Dad was in, right across the street from the funeral home she will pass through one day, same as Dad. She doesn't know how old she is. She couldn't remember the last time I saw her. She kept telling me how good it was of me to visit. I looked at her and prayed, "Dear God...please don't do this to me. When it's my time, just take me fast like You took my husband." Oh, if it were just that easy.

When Mr. Virgo died, I was 59. I could not picture a future...any future...without him. I'm only now getting little flashes of where my life might go. I don't think any of us can really conjure up a clear image of what our lives could actually look like 10, 20, possibly even 30 years down the road. Especially when our "mirror" is gone. Mr. Virgo served as my frame of reference. As he aged, I aged...though I had difficulty recognizing it. My only real clue now is the silver in my hair. It has grayed tremendously in the last three years. I like it. It gives me character. I know the stress of grief has contributed to the changes I see and that is beyond anyone's control.

Anyway, back to Laura. She was lying in the same position she was in the last time I saw her. I don't visit with her very often. We were never close. But I do pray for her. I pray for all the forgotten ones in the nursing homes. I pray I'm never one of them. But, mostly I pray that my Dad understands why I buried him on a muddy river bank. I hope he understands it was an angry little girl who did that. I hope I see him again so we can have that moment of reconciliation. In the meantime, I always come here and visit with him when I'm in town. It was where he was the happiest.

❤️

“By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.””
Genesis 3:19 NIV

What a Feeling

Wed, 06 Jan 2016 02:30:09 -0600

Last night was special. I was invited to speak to a grief support group at my home church in Colorado. And the gals on either side of me in this photo are fellow Ranchers! I am so blessed to have had this time to share my journey and to sit with these beautiful people. I am humbled by your reception.

Today is a very special day for me. This is my "re-birth day". Sixteen years ago today I was at the lowest point of my life. Lower even than losing Mr. Virgo because I lacked the skills at the time to pull myself through it. My 21 year marriage was over. I was severely depressed. I could barely get out of bed and brush my teeth. I was grossly over medicated and being doctored to death. I was lost.

I was alone that evening, suffering yet another migraine. I took my medicine. It didn't go away so I took more. I got goofy and couldn't remember if I took my medicine so I took more. At some point I realized I had a mouth full of pills but by that time I couldn't move. I took two full bottles and could quite easily have died if my husband hadn't come home to find me unresponsive.

I spent the night in ICU and a couple of nights in acute care then was sent to a facility in Denver where I stayed for two weeks. When I got out, my marriage was officially done, and I started the long climb back up from literally the bottom of the barrel.

A lot has happened in those sixteen years. I found my voice and stood up. I got divorced and survived. I built a house. I started a business. I lost my mom. I dated a cowboy. I remodeled a house. I became a Christian. I met Mr. Virgo and got married. I lost my dad. We moved three times. The kids grew up and moved away. Mr. Virgo died. I bought a trailer, and wrote and wrote and wrote. And, guess what's happening today? Today, sixteen years after very nearly dying of an overdose, I'm being interviewed by the New York Times. Seriously? I'm so excited I can hardly stand it.

There is no question...there IS a God. And He is so, so good!

❤️

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10 NIV

Anger

Sun, 27 Sep 2015 01:30:33 -0600

I chatted with a reader yesterday about anger. She said she was having some problems lashing out at people. She didn't feel she was necessarily angry with her late husband but she was sure as heck angry with everyone else in the world. She wondered if maybe that meant that deep down she really IS angry at him. Ahhhhh, she's getting it. In the early weeks after losing Mr. Virgo, I secretly hated everybody. I especially hated happy couples walking hand in hand or, God forbid, kissing. I was on a bus one time and it was everything I could do to keep from screaming "Stop it! You're killing me!!!" to the couple across from me. I hated them. Angry, white-hot hate that came from some primal spot in the innermost crevasse where my heart used to live, happily intact and beating. I think I did a pretty good job of hiding this anger from others since my MO as the "Keeper of the Non-Rocking Boat" has been pretty much the standard in my life. So it seethed and boiled inside of me, eating away.

I was blessed to be in a job at the time with extremely flexible hours. After Mr. Virgo died, I bought my first little camper and took off for the mountains for 3 months. I drove as far back in the wilderness as I could get. And that's where I got in touch with my anger. There was nothing but wildlife for miles around so I screamed. I yelled at God for taking my man. I yelled at Mr. Virgo for having the unmitigated gall to up and die on me. I yelled at him for smoking and for not getting the tests done a few months before when the doctor wanted a work up. I yelled at myself for not insisting. I yelled. I screamed. I cried.

For months. I wrestled with angels. When I finally dropped with exhaustion, hands limply folded in my lap, I was spent. I was emotionally empty. I could not begin to rebuild my life until every bit of the rubble from the wreckage was swept away. Well, at least tidied up and organized. I stirred what little was left of my anger into the mortar and rebuilt my foundation. I'm still working on it. We all experience anger when we lose someone important to us. And yes, we get angry at the perp. They left us. They changed our lives forever. Don't feel guilty for that. It's ok to live in anger for awhile. Just don't make it a permanent address.

❤️

“See what they spew from their mouths— the words from their lips are sharp as swords, and they think, “Who can hear us?”” Psalm 59:7 Photo Credit: www.playbuzz.com

Seeking Approval

Wed, 16 Sep 2015 01:30:45 -0600

I spent countless years and a number of relationships trying to find my dad's love and approval. When I couldn't get it from him, I tried to get it from other men. I'll never forget my therapist pointing out it was futile to have a different history with my dad than the one I actually had. I have been told by others how my dad spoke so glowingly of me. I saw how the congregation packed into the church for his funeral and sang his praises of being such a good man. I wish I could have known that guy because that's not the guy I grew up with. It wasn't for my lack of trying. He just couldn't be who I wanted (and needed) him to be. Neither could my first two husbands. Then Mr. Virgo came along. He gave me everything I needed and then some. It took awhile, but finally my fear of abandonment and my need for approval subsided.

I think age and circumstance has diminished my NEED to be liked. Ummmmm...ok, I don't worry about it nearly as often as I used to. Alright...I'm working on it! Ok? lol I try to focus on pleasing God and seeking HIS approval. That's all that really matters to me in the long run.
Isn't it funny how some people get this...and there are others to whom the entire concept is totally foreign to them? That's what I love about "The Ranch". No matter what, there's SOMEONE out there that's going through the same thing and there's comfort knowing A) You're not alone! and B) You're not crazy! It's a great big ol' world out there and we have far more similarities than differences. And I am ever grateful you are here.

❤️

"Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ."
Galatians 1:10

Control

Mon, 14 Sep 2015 01:30:04 -0600

"Houston, we've had a problem here." When Jack Swigert radioed this message to Ground Control, he and his fellow astronauts must have felt completely out of control. Fortunately for them, there was a whole team of engineers back home who worked feverishly to jury rig a solution before the space capsule ran out of oxygen.

Control is just an illusion for the most part. I mean, we can control our behaviors, our choices, maybe parts of our environment. There ARE areas of life where we can exert some control. But most of the time we are at the mercy of circumstance. So, what is this issue of control so many of us have? Just Friday I had nuclear meltdown over going out on the boat and not "having control of my environment". And yesterday? Well, I spent six hours out on that same boat with those same people and I was perfectly fine. What was the difference? I was the same person yesterday as I was Friday. The difference was relaxation, positive self-talk, and understanding friends who supported me by reassuring me if there were any need whatsoever, they could easily pull to shore. It's not like we were going to be out in the middle of the ocean, after all. I had a glorious day watching the sternwheel races then dancing for two hours, on said boat, as we sat alongside the barge housing the stage for a great band. Afterwards, we went upriver to see the locks so they could show me how they work.

Control. We honestly have very little. We delude ourselves into thinking we do. Especially those of us who grew up in volatile homes. My father was an alcoholic and unpredictable. I had relationships filled with argument. Then the ultimate...even though I was medically trained for just such an emergency, I could not save my husband's life when he had a massive heart attack right in front of me. In my experience, bad things happen to Ginny when she doesn't have control. As humans, we are programmed to avoid pain. Therefore, feeling out of control creates fear and anxiety in me. The fact that I totally KNOW it's in my head and 99% of the time I am not in real danger drives me buggy and makes me feel like a failure.

I know...I've built a clock to tell you what time it is. The bottom line is this. I am not perfect. Tension is created when I think I SHOULD be. Relaxation comes when I rest inside my imperfect self, remember the Fourth Agreement, and say..."You did your best today." Can I hear an "Amen"?

❤️

"We all stumble in many ways. Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect, able to keep their whole body in check."
James 3:2

The Ugly Side of Grief

Sat, 12 Sep 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I've always told you I would be brutally honest about this roller coaster ride from hell. While I would love to tell you an uplifting story today with a good moral at the end, I can't sit here and blow sunshine up your skirt. This hasn't been a great few days. A lot has come into play...9/11, missing my CO family (why can't we just combine the two states???), trailer lag, new time zone, coming down off my travel high, and Mr. Virgo's birthday. His 65th. That was big. Well, it was GOING to be big. I mean, I'm ok...really. But, dammit...this sucks. This sucks in a big way. This sucks and sucks and sucks sometimes. I haven't gotten around to seeing everyone since I got back and I feel bad about that. A friend and her family went out on the boat yesterday and I was SO looking forward to it but when it came time to go I got anxious and fretful and freaked out at not "being in control of my surroundings" and backed out at the last second. Then I spent the next two hours looking at the pictures they were posting and kicking myself for not going and berating myself.

But...it's ok. It's ok sometimes to have a nutty and drop out for a few days. It's ok to listen to your body and your mind and your spirit and say, "You know what? I'm not up for this today. I'll check back in with you when I'm feeling up to it." It's perfectly ok to park your butt wherever you need to park it, WHENever you need it parked, and you don't owe anyone an apology or an explanation. Those who don't understand or aren't behind you 100% aren't your tribe anyway. Grief is unpredictable. As it turned out, it was a good thing I was home. My friend had left her little dog in the outdoor run and he pulled a "Houdini". I heard him barking and thought they were home from boating I went out to greet them and there was Jack, the little escape artist, bounding like a gazelle through the field heading straight for the guy running the corn harvester! I dropped down and called him and he happily changed direction to come get his belly rubbed.

Naughty boy!

So, it all turned out for the best. There will be other boating opportunities and other days of feeling like a million bucks. I'm grateful to my sister/friend Patty for helping me remember self-care is not self-indulgent...it's imperative.

❤️

"Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you. Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress. Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers."
1 Timothy 4:14-16

Kindness

Fri, 17 Jul 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I dread election year. We are already experiencing the slings and arrows of misfortune…do we have to add the barbs and daggers of divisiveness? I don't discuss politics on Facebook. I know what I believe. I respect that others believe differently. This is the foundation our country was based on. Brotherly love. We can disagree without being unkind. The rhetoric is already bad out there. The name calling, the personal attacks, the discrimination…I hate it. The advent of social media has allowed public discourse without the governor that face-to-face interaction provides. We no longer have to look the other person in the eye when we slam them, degrade them, mock them, deride them. It is unseemly and inhumane. It is uncivilized. It scares me because you can't put smoke back in a bottle. There is only one way to create change and that is to BE the change.

A few years ago, my kids were really hurt and angry with me surrounding my divorce from Hubby #2. My oldest said something really snotty to me, in front of a bunch of people…including her young daughter. And here is how I handled it. I turned to my daughter and calmly said, "I have to own your treatment of me because I trained you how to do it. I spoke ill of my mother in front of you when you were growing up so how could you have learned the proper respect a parent deserves? But let me explain something to you. As we sit here and you speak to me this way in front of your young daughter, you are in turn training her how to treat you some day. You just think about that."

Kindness costs nothing. Love is free. Practice Peace. And remember, children learn by what they see.

❤

"Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it."
Psalm 34:14

Glory Days

Tue, 16 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I went to a movie with my kids and grandkids on my birthday. While ordering the tickets at the window, my daughter asked for two adults, two kids, and a senior citizen. My head whipped around and she stared at me with a look that said "Uh-oh….she just realized she's old!" Instead, I broke into a HUGE smile and started clapping. "You mean I get a senior discount now??? Score!!!", pumping my fist in the air. She looked around to see if people were giving her pitiful glances because her mom was doing the Happy Dance in the theater lobby. Do I get a discount on that overpriced popcorn, too? I dunno…I forgot to ask. I was just so darned excited at all the possible discounts I can receive now. And girl, I'm gonna WORK that! lol

I received a friend request yesterday on my personal page. It was from someone I have known since 1986. She and I were very close. Our kids were best friends in school. When things went south in my second marriage and I nearly died of an overdose, our friendship was affected. As can be the case in many divorces, lines of loyalty were drawn in the sand and I lost out in the equation. It's been 15 years and we have only spoken once. I have to admit, I sat there staring at her name in wonder. Why? Why now? How will this affect me? What does this mean? It didn't take me long, however, to remember the story of the prodigal son and I hit "accept". I posted on her page and told her how touched I was to receive a friend request from her. I commented on her post from the day before as she mentioned it would have been her 46th wedding anniversary that day. I told her I understood. I told her how, for me, grief is like walking through tall grass and stepping on a rake. The handle comes up and smacks you right between the eyes. And you never, ever know where that rake is or when the next step will trigger it. I told her how I admired her grace and poise and that I held a special place in my heart for her and her family all these years.

There are those who would have been offended by the friend request. There are those who would have said, "Screw her! She wasn't there for you when you needed her the most!" But you know what? I wasn't there for her either. She was angry. She was hurt. She was afraid for us all. When something like divorce and depression and overdoses hit friendships, it's often too close to home and people run away to protect themselves. They run away because they don't know what to say. It's too hard to love both parties so they choose sides. That's human nature. But the bottom line is this. I am a totally different woman than I was when she knew me. And so is she. A lot of time has passed. For me, I prefer to embrace the healing this will offer. There has been a sad spot in my heart since she left my life…a spot only she could fill. Last night, that spot got filled back in because I was offered an opportunity to practice grace. These ARE the glory days. These are the days we will look back upon and remember. I wish to remember that I did good things…that I stepped up to the plate…that I overlooked the slight of a friend, no matter how long it was, and that I was able to comfort her in her time of need. This was as much a gift to myself as it was to her. This is a beautiful thing.

❤

"The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more."
Psalm 103:15-16

Reunion

Tue, 09 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I had an unexpected surprise this week. I received a text from a high school friend that was coming to Denver to actively participate in the Clinton Global Initiative Group…part of the Bill, Hillary, and Chelsea Clinton Foundation. We hadn't seen each other in 44 years and spent four hours in an Irish Pub catching up. What a delightful way to spend the afternoon!

Friendships. I have renewed so many of the friendships of my youth in the last six months. Some of whom I haven't seen since graduating in '71. I don't know if it is indicative of the circumstances we found ourselves in at the time or if it's a "Southern Thang", but our class was particularly close in high school. With the advent of social media, we've been able to carry on a virtual class reunion. One of the blessings of that, and of age, is crossing the boundaries of "the clique". People who would not have known me in high school have become dear friends. I love this. It's the active laying down of the slings and arrows of adolescence and finding that common ground that makes us more alike than different. I have heard some say "Well, she didn't pay a bit of attention to me in high school…why would I want to be friends now?" I say horse hockey. Get over it. We were kids. EVERYBODY'S adolescence sucked. I wouldn't miss out on these relationships for anything in the world.

❤

"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you."
John 15:12

Capable

Sun, 24 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

I'm counting down the days to lift off. My list is long. I have one, maybe two trips left out to the farm. Yet, I'm still finding time to play. I'm fitting in some kayaking this morning. Visiting with a friend in the afternoon. Cookout in the evening. SO much to do in the next few days and I'm feeling confident and capable.

There was a time in my life when I wasn't capable of doing much of anything. If you had to come up with something good to say about my abilities back then, you might have said something like, "Well, she breathed in and out all day without too much trouble." In the depth of my depression sixteen years ago, I wasn't capable of accomplishing much on a daily basis. Couple that with myriad medications and I was just going through the motions. I call those the Prozac years. I don't remember much of my forties.

By the time I met Mr. Virgo, I had been off all meds for five years and was a totally different person. Yet still I didn't feel terribly self confident about my place in the world. I deferred a lot of my abilities to my husband. He was so adept at everything. I didn't have to worry my pretty little head about much of anything. Then he up and died on me and left me to figure this all out on my own.

Something instinctively told me I had to travel solo to find myself. There was no one else to rely on. No one to hold me in the dark of night. Not in the physical plane, anyway. I always have God with me. And He gives me the strength to face the days…and nights…on my own. He gives me discernment. I have discovered that, with God…I truly CAN do anything. I am capable. I am strong. I am brave even when I sometimes don't feel I am.

There is no way you can travel alone and not discover how capable you truly are. It is the deepest gift you can give yourself.

❤

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes."
Ephesians 6:10-11

Learning to Believe

Fri, 30 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

I have written a post nearly every day for two years. I journal every day as well. I've written a 500+ page autobiography that's being edited. I write poetry and children's stories. I even co-authored a book for the National Institutes of Health. My first published work was in high school. Yet, I have only in the last year or so become confident in my writing and subsequently, my thinking. I owe a lot of that to you all and your amazing responses that you post here. You continually encourage me and I am very grateful to you.

I never really knew what I thought about things till I started reading what I write. I don't know why that is. Maybe it's from being the adult child of an alcoholic. Maybe it's from ADHD. Maybe it's a remnant of deferring to the men in my life to think the heavy thoughts for me and leave me to the simple things like getting the stains out of my laundry. I'm an intelligent woman. That part of my brain developed so why didn't my self-confidence? Now that I make my own decisions, I'm learning by default what makes me tick. I'm learning by trial, and plenty of error, how to navigate adulthood. It constantly amazes me…and sometimes frustrates me…when I think I should have learned all this a long time ago. It's never too late to learn, to grow, to change course, to know what you think. I've always trusted the baser instincts. I know how I feel…just not what I think. It's a learning curve that's actually exciting in a way.

I took a break from scanning photos yesterday. My step-mother has weighed heavy on my mind the last few weeks. We aren't terribly close, but I always make it a point to drive the 45 minutes down to see her when I'm in West Virginia. I headed to town yesterday with every intention of going to the gym but the closer I got, the stronger the feeling became to go visit her. I usually find her at the senior center playing dominos with her buddies. However, the activity room was dark when I arrived. I went to the welcome desk and was not at all surprised to learn my step-mother has been in the nursing home for a month. It's just next door so I headed over. She was sleeping soundly so I went to the nurses station. They assured me I could wake her and that she was doing much better than when she arrived. It seems she fell backwards when she was home alone and fractured her hip and pelvis. She awoke easily and we both enjoyed a lovely visit. I love it when God whispers to me telling me where I should go. The hardest part is to listen and follow instructions. I'm certainly glad I did yesterday.

❤

“A discerning person keeps wisdom in view, but a fool’s eyes wander to the ends of the earth.”
Proverbs 17:24

Hibernation

Fri, 02 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

When my older daughter was about six or seven, we were sitting on the couch watching a PBS special. (Just ask her…Channel 6 is all she was ever allowed to watch. We were SO mean!) At one point, she sighed and laid her head on my shoulder.

"Mama?"

"Yes, babe?"

"When I die, I want to come back as a bear."

"Really. Why is that?"

"So I can hyperventilate all winter."

The child of medical parents who made her watch PBS nature shows. Poor kid.

There's something to be said for hibernating, though. I spent a good deal of time on the phone yesterday with various friends. Every single one of them was searching for something…some sort of comfort…some form of peace. Quiet. Stillness. This was the major theme. I totally get that. I went to get a coffee yesterday morning, stopped at the store, emptied out my truck, watched the parade, did some laundry, and communed with my like-minded, ready-to-hibernate comrades. I was right there with them.

What brings us to this place where we crave the cave? Part of it, of course, is the long dark nights. And we are coming down off the frenzied sugar high of the holidays. We need to retreat…be still…listen to our hearts. Whether you're rescuing yourself from a week of guests like a friend of mine, or feeling the stress of too many obligations and too many funerals like my friend Denise, or reeling from the death of your mother like my friend Debbie, or escaping from an emotional bruising like me…we're all the same. We just want to be left alone to lick our wounds and refill our well.

I received a private message from one of my readers yesterday. He was confused. He didn't understand what was happening with me because I was here to help my aunt and the next thing he knew, I was off on a different course. He wondered if he missed something and if I was ok. It made me realize not all of you get to see every post and some might think I didn't take this situation with my aunt seriously or that I'm flighty. While there are certainly areas of my life beyond the scope of this page, there aren't many and I've been up front and open with you about everything else…so here goes.

I've spent a great deal of time the last few weeks praying and meditating on what changed about the dynamic between my aunt and me. We are about as different as two people can possibly be. While she is very bright, somewhat worldly, and well read, she is extremely narrow in her views and uncompromising in her beliefs. I am a liberal, free-spirited social butterfly. She is 83…she believes in saying exactly what comes into her mind, without filter, and without regard for the effect her words may have on the recipient. I am 61…I believe in diplomacy and the rule my grandma taught me - "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." She is also angry. She is losing her independence and knows it. I am healthy and free, active and young. At least youngER. I was the closest thing available for my aunt to lash out at. I get that. I understand it from a medical and intellectual standpoint. That doesn't make it sting any less, but I certainly get where she's coming from. The problem came when she made it personal. When she started making calculated attacks, then retreating with sweetness only to attack again when I got close enough, it started making me question what was going on. I don't want to believe she would actually be mean…on purpose. But none of that matters in the grand scheme of things. Because if she doesn't respect me…if she doesn't trust my judgement or my expertise…a caregiving relationship cannot be established. Nothing will ever be right…nothing will ever be satisfactory. And, as it turns out, I am not who she wants in that capacity and that's ok. This is, after all, her life…her home…her future. The sad thing is, I doubt there's anyone else she WOULD want. I know there is no one else available. I was the only one, short of hiring someone, that can keep her out of a nursing home. I felt it was the best thing, for all parties involved, to bow out gracefully and let she and her brother figure out a solution that will be more amenable to her. I also wanted to do this in such a way that would not break whatever tenuous connection we still have. After talking with her yesterday, I think we may have accomplished that. I hope so, because I do love her and only want what's best for everyone involved.

Relationships are a lot of work. I knew coming into this that it might not work out, but I held high hopes. The most wonderful lesson I have learned from this situation is…I can trust my gut instincts AND I can control my mouth and not go down a destructive path just to prove a point. So, now I can hibernate a little bit myself, fill my well, and come out swinging again. We all need a little down time. You should never feel bad about taking yours.

❤

Born to Sparkle!

Tue, 30 Dec 2014 02:30:00 -0600

Do you ever look at your little girl pictures and wonder where your sparkle went? It takes a lot to dull my shine, but lately…I just haven't been feeling it. Then I came across this picture in my archives. Just look at this little girl! She's got her nekkid baby doll, a pretty dress with shiny party shoes, and she's at her grandma's house. What else IS there to life? She hasn't been molested or abused. She hasn't seen her parents fight. She hasn't dated or married or divorced. She hasn't had babies. She hasn't worried about how to pay the bills. She hasn't sat on the edge of the bed at 2am waiting to see the headlights signaling her daughter's safe return home. She hasn't comforted her bullied child. She hasn't held her grandchildren. She hasn't lost her mom. She hasn't met the love of her life. She hasn't lost him. She hasn't known grief.

She hasn't known grief. But she will. She'll have trouble breathing. She'll step on that rake in the grass all too often. She'll feel the grief rise and fall in her chest like the tide. She'll reel with the pain and she'll learn how to take it. She'll vow never to hurt again, but she will. She'll vow never to love again, but she will. She'll think she can never sparkle again…but she will.

She will.

Because…look at this little girl.

She was BORN…TO…SPARKLE!

❤

The Rabbit Hole

Mon, 29 Dec 2014 02:30:00 -0600

Have you ever found yourself in a relationship where your interactions with the other person leave you confused? A remark comes out of the blue, takes you by surprise, hurts, stuns then with practically the next breath, the person turns it around, smiles, becomes sweet and complacent, and you wonder what just happened? You begin to second guess your perceptions. You think surely what you thought was happening really wasn't. It had to be your interpretation, right? It had to be something you said or did that caused that negativity because, see? They're so nice! That is crazy-making behavior. It's a very clear sign that you are in a toxic relationship. I've been there. And fortunately, having been there, I can recognize it when it comes along now. Oh…it took me a little bit this time. I let it bite me three or four times before I caught on.

What pulled me out was sitting down and having a conversation with Mr. Virgo. Bless his heart, he was so patient with me the first year we were together. I would tell him things I believed that others had said. Things that made me feel crazy. Invariably he'd take my hand, look me in the eye, and gently say… "You know that's crazy, right?" And I'd say, "No, so and so said this and they are so much smarter than me. It must be true! It's ME that's crazy!" And he'd just hold my hand and keep telling me over and over till I finally believed him. It wasn't me. It was the toxin talking. Some relationships are just poison to your soul…to your psyche. You have to walk away from them. So I asked Mr. Virgo what I should do. And I got the message loud and clear. I could "hear" him saying over and over…"You know that's crazy, right?" Right. You're absolutely right. Walk away. Walk away. Oh, there are SO many things that could keep me entangled. A sense of obligation. Guilt. Pity. Compassion. Confusing manipulation with love. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For clarity. For courage. For growth.

I prayed for a solution. A quick, healthy solution. My friend from high school was praying at the very same moment. She needs someone to stay at her loft apartment while she's gone for two months visiting her daughter. She needs someone to water her plants and to make sure the pipes don't freeze. She hadn't been on Facebook for days. She had a nightmare in the wee hours of the morning and couldn't go back to sleep so she checked in to see what was going on. While other posts had come through since I posted a plea Saturday night, asking for help finding a place, there was my post…right at the top of her screen! She sent me a message right away. I went over to her place in the afternoon. A second floor loft, high ceilings, lots of windows, a whole wall of books floor to ceiling in the living room, stacks and stacks of quilts all around, plants everywhere, a big airy bedroom, a half block from the river on a brick paved street nestled amongst small shops and restaurants. Perfect! It's only 30 miles from the farm so I can still go check on my aunt and make sure things are ok there, yet far enough away that I am protected. I'll have cell service and internet so I'm connected to my family and friends. A cocoon where I can heal this wound and move on. An inspirational spot to write. This will buy me a couple of months to find another place to park the camper where I can stay for awhile to make sure my aunt gets the assistance she needs and then I can be free to move on. Perhaps my job here was to be more of a facilitator of change rather than an actual caregiver. I can see that to be just as true.

I went to church yesterday with a very special family and went to lunch afterwards at Olive Garden. These people give of their hearts freely and they (as well as my extended and immediate family) salvaged my Christmas. I am forever grateful for the love of family and friends. And of God.

❤

A Conversation with My Dad

Mon, 10 Nov 2014 02:30:13 -0600

“A conversation with my dad.”

I had a perfect weekend. I say that a lot. “It was a perfect day!” “What a perfect sunset!” I can’t help it. It’s the eternal sunshine in my hopeful heart. The world is just so dang awesome! But I did have a great weekend. Friday night football with my high school buds after pizza at the local hangout. We won against our arch rivals. It was a dead even game and we won by a field goal with 2.1 seconds left on the clock! My friends and I remarked how we felt just like we did 43 years ago when we were last there. The only difference was, I was wearing my full length blue fox coat! It was 31 degrees and not all that far from the river…it was darned chilly in that stadium. Ok, I had a really awesome moment when the entire cheerleading squad dropped their mouths open as I walked by and this sweet little girl said, “Oh, my gosh! I love your coat!” The cheerleaders liked me! Wow! (giggle)

I stayed overnight at one of my cousins’ house. We had coffee together Saturday then I took off for craft shows with another cousin. We had dinner out with their friends Saturday night. Yesterday morning we had coffee and sat around all morning sharing stories. I am so happy to be getting to know these cousins. Both sets. They come from my dad’s side of the family. My parents divorced when I was in my early twenties. I really hadn’t had as close a connection with my dad’s family as I had with my mom’s. It is very interesting talking with dad’s family now. He went on and remarried, quit drinking, found Jesus, and became a kind and gentle person in his community so they knew an entirely different man than I did. However, his interaction with me never changed and we had a very strained to practically non-existent relationship. Two sides of the same coin.

For a long time after my father died, I was perplexed by the lack of resolution. Whenever I had tried to resolve things with him as an adult, he didn’t want to discuss it with me. He just wanted to forget the whole thing and I wasn’t enlightened enough at the time to realize how hard it was for him to express his feelings. By the time I had it figured out, he was severely demented and then he died and no resolution would ever come. Or would it? I figured it would do no harm to resolve the matter on my own terms so one day I sat down and rewrote history. I had a “conversation” with my dad. I told him exactly how I felt. I told him all my hurts. I cried and told him how much I missed having a daddy that wasn’t drunk all the time. I told him about his little girl that waited in the car on Christmas Eve while her mommy went in every bar in town looking for him to bring him home. I told him how much he scared me when he brought the gun in the kitchen. I told him I loved him and hated him and missed him and wanted his friendship all my life. I told him I was so jealous of the other girls whose Daddy’s were their champions and cheerleaders and best friends. And then I got quiet and I listened. And here’s what my daddy said to me:

“Oh, honey…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the daddy you needed, the daddy you deserved. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your mommy’s fault. It was me. I didn’t know any better. I did the best I could with the knowledge I had, but I just didn’t know how my behaviors would affect you. I didn’t do it on purpose, and I’d take it all back if I had a do-over. See, I went to the South Pacific in the Army. I got really, really sick when I was there. I was afraid to drink the water so I drank beer…a lot. My dad drank a lot too…so this was what I knew. I started drawing pictures when I was away. I was pretty good. I wanted to be a commercial artist. Or a farmer. When I was stateside at Camp Pendleton, I met a woman named Virginia Cunningham. She was beautiful. She stole my heart and I wanted to marry her, but she said no. I was devastated. Your mom and I met when I came home. A boy had broken her heart, too. So we married, hoping our hearts would mend but they didn’t. You kids came along, responsibilities took over, and my dreams of being an artist and a farmer were long gone by the time you could walk. I coped with the only skill I had left and that was alcohol. I’m really, truly sorry, baby girl. I loved you every day of your life. I was always so proud of you. I told everyone about my Ginny and my beautiful grandchildren. I’m sorry I didn’t try to get to know them, or you. Please forgive me for not being there for you, your brother, your mom, your babies. I’ll make it up to you. We can talk about it in Heaven someday, I promise.”

It’s ok, Daddy. I forgive you.

Rose Colored Glasses

Sun, 26 Oct 2014 01:30:34 -0600

“Rose Colored Glasses”

My mom always used to chastise me for looking at the world through rose colored glasses, as if that was a bad thing. I have always looked for the positive in every situation, no matter how dim or dark. When there are trials, looking for the silver lining isn’t always easy, but it can make a world of difference in how well you cope. And when life is good? Well, those rose colored glasses just absolutely rock your ensemble, girlfriend!

I can’t believe I got to the delightfully rich age of 61 without ever going to a “Sing”. Now, y’all from the hills and the country, and the hollers, and the south, and the mountains are gonna know what I’m talking about. You drive down a country road and there’s a hand-painted sandwich board sign out in front of a little country church or a community building reading “Sing Tonight. 6:00”. If you’ve never gone….please, whatever you do…pull over and go in. You might be regaled with a couple of hours of old timey Gospel music where everyone sings along. Or, you might just get the treat of your life and get to listen to three hours of nonstop bluegrass of the purest variety like I did last night. From “Nelly”, the lead singer, nattily dressed in her western skirt and vest, easily in her 80’s to “Junior”, just 15 and picking up where these amazingly talented country folk are going to leave off…a talented young man who can play guitar, bass, and “rip up a banjo”, so his grandpa told me though I didn’t have the pleasure of hearing that. I was thrilled, mesmerized, and honored beyond belief to sit in the community building down the road a piece from my new home, to be introduced around to the neighbors and family of family as the “little gal who drove a 24’ trailer…BY HERSELF…ALL THE WAY FROM COLORADO…SO SHE CAN TAKE CARE OF HER AUNT, BLESS HER HEART”… to buying a slice (or two) of my aunt’s famous Lemon Pie, and to hear the sounds of my youth, transporting me back to those Saturday nights on the farm, listening to Dolly Parton and Porter Waggoner, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, and then…the piece de resistance…the Grand Old Opry. Girls… I was in heaven. Last night was so very, very rich….my rose colored glasses are fogging up a bit!

And what’s on the agenda today? An auction, of course!!! Can it get any better than this??? <3

Comparison

Mon, 08 Sep 2014 01:30:35 -0600

I love this!

Dr. Kristin Shepherd

September 8, 2014 ·

Comparison is the thief of joy. Best, then, to fall in love with yourself as you are here and now. Your life, your path, your challenges, your particular beauty.

This is a much cleaner energy than suffering what is, wishing you were somewhere else, pining over what used to be, envying that other life.

Radiance comes from being here, now.

Hope this serves. Love.

Oh, How Times Change

Tue, 02 Sep 2014 01:30:45 -0600

“Commemorative Photo of 40”

Ok, who had a boudoir photo taken? They were all the rage in the ’90s. I had to have one! Partially because I’m such an….ummm, extrovert! But also because at any given moment, we are the youngest we will ever be. This was taken when I was turning 40. I wanted to memorialize that static moment in my life when everything was perfect. My marriage, my family. My body, my hair. I was in the best shape of my life. My little girl was 4. My big girl was 20. I remember lovely afternoons stitching with my girlfriends, not a care in the world. Planning dinner parties was a monumentous occasion. This was before the ravages of depression and Prozac took away my youth. My ex-husband kept this photo on the wall in his office. It was the Camelot years.

Then everything changed. I had three major surgeries in less than two years. I didn’t bounce back well. I started down the rabbit hole of depression and didn’t come back for ten years. When I got back, life had gone on without me and my marriage was over. My ex had taken this picture down and put it in a drawer in his desk. I didn’t look like that beautiful woman anymore. I didn’t bathe or get my hair done. I gained a hundred pounds. I lived in shorts and an oversized t-shirt without a bra. Those were the Prozac years. I don’t remember my forties.

The story has a happy ending though. I turned my life around after my ex and I separated. I found my Prince Charming and married him. I had such a beautiful life. That was my fifties. Those were my passionate years.

And now, here I am at the opening credits of a new movie. A new decade. A new era. I am very much at peace. Sure, I suffered a blow. My world literally changed in a heartbeat…or the lack thereof, actually. But I refuse to wear widowhood like sackcloth and ashes. I will not make grief a career path. These are my halcyon years.

I look at this picture and as far as I’m concerned, I still look like this. Ok, my hair is gray (and not permed). Parts of my anatomy have headed south. Things aren’t as tight as they once were. I like to think my inner beauty was so great, it fought to get out and my skin expanded to accommodate all that lusciousness! Look at that picture again. That’s who I am inside. Beautiful. Sultry. Young. Wow!

Sorry

Sat, 16 Aug 2014 01:30:39 -0600

“I’m Sorry”

Don’t you hate it when you hurt someone’s feelings? Someone you really care about? I hate that. I get blinders on sometimes and run like a Bassett hound with my nose to the ground. I’m wagging my tail and feeling all happy and wanting to share it. And I shared it with someone who is going through something really, really horrible. I shared it with exuberance without even considering what my dear friend was going through. Sharing wasn’t the problem. Forgetting to ask how she was doing…that was the problem. I should have been more sensitive. I should have thought of her first. She’s a wonderful person. I think she loves me enough to forgive me. I hope so because I sure hate that I hurt her heart. I’m praying hard for her and her family for peace and healing and comfort. That’s all I can give. That…and love.

Goodbye, Mrs. Doubtfire...

Wed, 13 Aug 2014 01:30:33 -0600

Depression is an insidious, dreadful, invisible disease. It can not only rob you of joy, it robs you of the ability to see. I don’t mean true vision. I mean the ability to see the good in life, to see the love others have for you, too see anything but pain.

Robin Williams lived in the richest county of America. He had a beautiful home and was wildly successful. He had a loving family. He had the freedom to do anything in the world that he wanted. He also had diseases. He had the disease called addiction. It haunted him and he tried so hard to tame the beast. He had the disease called depression. It followed him everywhere and he could never find peace from it. It was largely a silent, invisible, and ultimately deadly disease.

There are some angry people who don’t understand how he could have been so selfish. They don’t understand. They only knew the outside Robin. While I never met the man, I know the inside Robin. It’s dark and scary and exhausting in there. You’re like the man spinning all those plates on sticks, trying like crazy to keep them from crashing to the ground. You’re afraid to set the plates down and rest because that’s when the darkness comes. It closes in on you, snaring you in it’s incessant grip…choking what life you have in you away. It’s a terrible place to be and when you are there, you truly see only one way out. Sleep. And, tragically, sometimes it is eternal.

You may wonder why a man like Robin Williams ended up hanging at the end of a rope when he certainly had the resources to get help. The answer is unknown. Unless he left a note, we will never know what was going through his mind. But, please don’t be disheartened. There are resources out there that can help you back away from the edge. If you find yourself on that dark path and only want to escape the pain of living, please call for help. Call this number, call clergy, call a family member or a friend. Tape the number to your phone because you cannot see or think when you are in that dark place.

God rest your gentle spirit, Mr. Williams. May you rest in peace away from the demons who tormented you in life. May you find Mr. Virgo in Heaven and play a rousing round of golf. You will be sorely missed.

Nanu Nanu

Anchors

Mon, 11 Aug 2014 01:30:19 -0600

“Anchors”

While the house was being shown on Saturday, I drove into town for a Starbucks fix. Afterwards, I drove by my ex-husband’s house to see if they were home. I don’t usually drop by unannounced but felt compelled this time. I wanted to share with them what my plans are in WV and spend some time catching up.

There was a time when ours was very much a love/hate relationship. Or, probably more precisely, a love/anger relationship. As with any divorce, there was a lot of this finger-pointing, he said/she said stuff going on for the first few years. Then we both remarried and a sort of truce was reached. We went to the same events without killing each other. We spoke on the phone when necessary without diving back into the dirt. We made progress, slowly but surely, but I wouldn’t necessarily say we were “friends”. Then Mr. Virgo died, and it showed us all just how fragile this thing is. This life that we think will always be there and that there’s time down the road to mend your fences. In essence, my ex and his wife were there for me whenever I needed them, for whatever reason. Several months after Mr. Virgo’s death, we decided to have family holiday dinners together so the kids didn’t have to choose which place to go to first. After Thanksgiving, he and I had a few moments by ourselves and he told me it was ironic that it took a family tragedy to make us realize that we are just that. Family. Non-traditional, eccentric, mixed faith, loving, supportive…with common goals. Health and happiness.

I spent an hour and a half on their front porch, drinking coffee, sharing stories, sharing the love only a family bond can give you. This was a long time coming, this peace. It took a lot of hard work on all of our parts and I am so proud of us. They are anchors in my life.

My prayer during those dark years was always “God, please heal my family.” And, like the loving God He is…He did. <3

It's Just Stuff...

Fri, 11 Jul 2014 01:30:38 -0600

“It’s Just Stuff…”

Ok, I’ve had some time to think about it. For those of you who may have missed my post yesterday, my storage unit was broken into and a BOATLOAD of stuff was taken. My entire art/jewelry studio tools and supplies, two huge storage trunks filled with my power tools, my serger, my carpet cleaner…and our golf clubs. All told, maybe $4-5k worth of stuff. The thing that hurt was losing Mr. Virgo’s clubs. That stung. But the rest of it? Let’s look at that.

The carpet cleaner? Well…..yay!!!!!

My serger? I used it to make the most darling clothes for my baby. She’s 24, ok? I’ve dragged that thing around with me for oh…20 years without ever using it…not once. So, it’s gone.

My power tools? Gasp! That may take a little time to get over. But, I can always get brand spankin’ new, ever so much better, power tools! Yay!!!

MY golf clubs? True confession? The only thing I loved about playing golf was smoking a cigar with Mr. Virgo! I sucked at it. I am giving countless people a break by not clogging up the golf course with my slow play. See? If you’re a golfer, you’re feeling better already, right? You’re welcome!

My studio? Ahhhh, my studio. Dang it. I love making stuff. AND…I am a Gemini. I cannot do the same thing over, and over, and over. My creativity comes in spurts. I’m thinking God has a plan. Perhaps He saw that I was struggling with the guilt of having all this equipment and supplies and not really making much from it, and he said, “Ya know, honey….I’m gonna just get this stuff out of your way! Now, look….see how much LESS stuff you have to cart around with you? You’re welcome!”

Which brings us to Mr. Virgo’s clubs. You know, the guy that stole those clubs didn’t steal them to play a better game. He stole them for drug money. God knows who he is. He will heap burning coals upon his head. He’s not my problem. I’m thinking of the guy who buys (or has already bought) those clubs. HE’S a golfer! He will appreciate the smokin’ deal he’s going to get on that set. And that bag I bought Mr. Virgo as a wedding gift? Icing on the cake because…that is one sweet bag! No, that unsuspecting golfer who picks up this $1700 set of clubs for a song at some garage sale somewhere is going to really love them. He’s going to appreciate the love and care that went into the upkeep of that set. May he get a hole in one his first time out! May he wear a 10.5D and fit into Mr. Virgo’s golf shoes that are in the side pocket. May his hand fit those extra golf gloves that were tucked in here and there. May he have many, many wonderful days out on the links. And if I ever run across him and recognize those clubs, I’ll tell him about a really great guy that loved to golf.

Because, in the end, it’s only stuff.

The Death Whisperer

Sun, 08 Jun 2014 01:30:21 -0600

Maya Angelou meme

We face loss…real, imaginary, potential…every day of our lives. Often the topic death resides just out of reach in our minds. We know it’s lurking in the shadows, but there is so much more to occupy us that we turn away. But what happens when the whole world is dark? When there is no bright and shining path to lead us forward? When you see no way out of your pain? When mistakes made seem insurmountable and things are only going from bad to worse? Far too often, these lost souls choose to end their lives rather than go on. They whisper secrets to Death hoping he’ll be their friend and carry them away from their pain.

We all know of someone who has chosen this path. A death by suicide leaves the survivors at a loss. It is an entirely different grief. It is untimely, unseemly, confusing. We lay guilt and blame on the table hoping to make sense of the hand that was dealt.

There are so many questions, but try as you might, you will never understand what was going through the mind of the loved one lost. You will ask yourself questions like “Didn’t they love me?” Or “Didn’t they think of those that love them?” In that moment, you are lost. You have blinders on and can see nothing or think of nothing, or no one. You are in such a dark, tiny painful place that the only thing you want is to escape. It is a hopeless, helpless place to be.

I have great compassion for these lost souls. I understand them. I cannot blame them, because they honestly can’t consider any alternative. I have even greater compassion for those left behind searching for answers.

Forgiveness

Wed, 05 Mar 2014 02:30:16 -0600

“Proverbs of Solomon”

I learned last night that one of my friends can curse like a sailor. I learned this after sharing a private message that one of Mr. Virgo’s cousins send to me. When I first saw his name pop up, I was thrilled. I hadn’t heard from him in quite a while. Imagine my utter shock when the message I received was callous and hurtful. He was on a rant because I had relayed stories here on FB about Mr. Virgo’s military record, and some other family stories, that he said was, if not a gross exaggeration, were outright lies and he was insulted. He asked me to please leave his family out of my blog posts and to unfriend him. I was stunned. First of all, I only repeated the stories Mr. Virgo told me. I did not exaggerate or lie. Second, I have a drawer full of medals from Vietnam and I know they were my husband’s. Could Mr. Virgo have embellished his stories? I must concede the possibility. But he was a good and honorable man and I choose to believe him.

What kind of cruel, heartless person lashes out at a grieving widow one week before the anniversary of her husband’s death? I was devastated and sobbed for hours last evening. Then I recalled the bible verse above. I prayed for my husband’s cousin and I forgave him for hurting me and told him so. I feel so sorry for someone like that. Then I unfriended him. We didn’t know each other anyway so it isn’t a great loss in my life. Just an excellent opportunity to walk in the Word and pray for someone with pain.

Glorification

Sun, 09 Feb 2014 02:30:00 -0600

“As part of my healing, I had to stop ‘glorifying’ my husband and list the things about him that irritated me.” Sue

In order to justify some decisions I was making not too long after Mr. Virgo died, I started talkin’ smack about my man. I know now what that was all about. Psychologically, it is easier if you don’t miss someone and the quickest way to not miss them is to find fault. The opposite of that is glorification.

I’m not kidding when I tell you Mr. Virgo was perfect because he was perfect for ME. We never raised our voices to one another, not once in over seven years. That is remarkable. He gave me just the right amount of attention without suffocating me. He gave me the kind of affection that made me feel his love without being clingy. I read a meme the other day that said a woman needs a man that will ruin her lipstick, not her mascara. That was Mr. Virgo. He never made me cry…not once. Well, until he died on me.

That being said, he wasn’t perfect. I could NOT get him to take a night off from the television and just talk or play a game. We ate every meal at the coffee table in front of that $&@!#%@ television that had to be blaring in order for him to hear it. He pouted for days if I left to visit the kids because he didn’t get to go. He wanted me to be sitting beside him watching the same show so we could discuss it during the commercials. Argh! He had to eat three substantial meals a day on his days off to the point that I felt we were eating all the time. My weight ballooned because he didn’t like it if I didn’t eat with him. He was a Virgo and I am a Gemini. He sorted his closet by color…you can barely shut the door on mine. I made piles. This made him crazy. It took him FOREVER to get ready to go someplace. All those good looks and that “Polo polish” came at a price and he did NOT like to feel rushed.

At some point in your grief, you need to have a heart to heart talk with yourself and examine your loved one critically. Let yourself feel ok about your feelings. No one is perfect, with the exception of God and an innocent child. It’s ok to look at your loved one with a critical eye. It does not mean you didn’t just flat out adore them when they were here. It means, in order to make progress on your grief journey, you have to be realistic. That doesn’t make you a bad person. That makes you a healthy person.

How Things Used to Be

Sat, 08 Feb 2014 02:30:36 -0600

“How Things Used to Be”

The only absolute certainty in this physical existence is that things will change. I don’t think it takes a terribly long time in this life to figure this out, but the bargaining and denial aspects of grief can make that fact inaccessible at times…much like putting a smoky filter on a camera lens. We want what we want and we want it to be like it used to be.

But what happens if you don’t? What happens if you were in an unhappy marriage? What happens if you just came out of three years of nursing your loved one through a terrifying disease? Mr. Virgo suffered a quick and relatively painless death and if he had to die, I’m glad for it being that way. That is one of the few comforts I get from this situation.

My life has changed tremendously and (God please let my readers understand this) not every change is negative. I would give all my Earthly possessions to have Mr. Virgo back. Of course I would. And, I have to be honest here…there are changes that were easier to adjust to.

Mr. Virgo had tinnitus and had to have white noise in order to sleep so we had a fan and an air conditioner running every night in our room…365 days a year..in order for him to sleep. It could be -27 outside, but that AC and fan was running. However, I am an extremely light sleeper and had to sleep with earplugs. I have only turned those noisy beasts on once or twice since he died. That I don’t miss.

Mr. Virgo was a TV watcher and it came on as soon as he got home. We ate in the living room, a towel covering his parent’s coffee table, with the TV blaring at an uncomfortably loud decibel. I have to tell you, if I see another Ghost Adventurers episode I will go running and screaming in the night. (Sorry, Zack…nothing personal, buddy.) When I hadn’t turned the TV on in six weeks after the funeral, I just disconnected the satellite service and don’t miss it one bit.

My time is my own. I don’t have to cook heavy Irish meat-and-potatoes, stick-to-your-ribs kinds of meals. If I want a bowl of cereal or a salad for dinner, I can do that. This isn’t a bad thing because I’ve lost 30 pounds.

I guess the whole point is this. You may find there are changes in your life that aren’t so bad and you shouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying them. Life is a gift and just because he (or she) died, doesn’t mean that you did. Sitting around wringing our hands in sackcloth and ashes for the rest of our lives will not bring our loved ones back and does not honor them. After a time, we have to start playing this game called life with exactly those cards we are dealt and each hand is different. Our loved one gone would want us to find the joy in life, even if it is a bowl of Sugar Smacks.

Be Yourself...Everyone Else is Taken

Sat, 01 Feb 2014 02:30:20 -0600

“Be Yourself…Everyone Else is Taken”

I’ve been sitting here for the last 15-20 minutes trying to come up with something more profound than that, but I’m empty tonight. I had a productive day. I’ve been typing my manuscript which entails reading a lot of the things I wrote in the first few months after Mr. Virgo died. That is a lot like having your appendix removed without anesthesia. But it must be done now, while it’s relatively fresh and the raw bits are still easily accessed. It’s exhausting and I can only do so many pages before I’m emotionally drained. While a nap might sound nice, there is too much escapism involved there. I needed to get out among the living.

I drove to town and had dinner at the local brew pub. I had a cool old Bennett Brothers Catalog from 1963 to browse and escape to a simpler time. I had just finished eating when my ex-husband and his wife came in for dinner. I was so excited because I hadn’t seen them since Thanksgiving. They were going to sit in the next booth but I asked them to sit with me. We had such a lovely visit. We talked about the kids and the grandkids. What we did over the holidays. This and that. When his wife excused herself for a moment, I leaned over and told my ex how much I love her and how happy I am for him. I winked and said, “See? You got to have TWO fabulous wives in your life!” There were many, many years when he and I were not being genuine and it darned near killed the both of us. And now look. I had a wonderful marriage, albeit too short. And he is in the throes of an epic love. I love that!

Sometimes….sometimes you find an epic love, and for whatever reason, it doesn’t work. Poor timing, mismatched feelings, or for no reason you can even explain. The only thing you can do is remain true to yourself and be brave enough to speak. Always tell the truth when your feelings are involved because you know “what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive”. When left unspoken, words harden in your heart like cement. It’s much more difficult to get them out once they are stone.

After dinner, I went to the hot springs and soaked and soaked and soaked. And now I’m done. I’ve used it all up and tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is time to recharge at church and watch the Broncos win the Super Bowl!

Have a blessed day, everyone.

Losing Focus

Tue, 28 Jan 2014 02:30:56 -0600

“Losing Focus”

Sometimes it seems there are more things that need doing than there is time to do them. I’m finding myself in that position as I try to purge my house of clutter and projects I will never in ten lifetimes get to. I need to lighten my load so that I can move forward with getting housemates to make this place pay for itself.

When I set my studio up a year ago, everything was in its proper place, all neat and tidy and ready at any moment when the creative urge struck me. When Mr. Virgo died, a lot of stuff got thrown into the studio to make room for the company who came to stay with me those first few days. Then I spent the majority of the next few months away traveling in TOW-Wanda. I told myself I would settle down after the first of the year and really get things cleaned out. Now, here it is, the end of January and I’m sitting in my studio, praying for direction. I called a friend and discussed a strategy and we conversed over the speaker phone for an hour while I got started. Once you get moving, it’s easier to keep moving. Thank God for good friends!

As I sorted and threw things away, I came across an ancient stationery box filled with little mementoes of my father’s and I sat down to go through it. He and I did not have a good relationship. He was a psychologically abusive alcoholic when I was growing up. He and my mother finally divorced when I was 21, and he moved back to the town he was raised in. He stopped drinking and became a Christian and everyone who knew him in his new life thought he was wonderful. They told me at his funeral what a gentle and caring man he was. How he volunteered and was an upstanding member of the church he and his second wife attended. This only served to make me more angry with him. I had tried all of my life to have a relationship with him and even though he had allegedly “changed”, his modus operandi with me was the same as it had always been…blame and shame. It only served to make me feel worse about myself and I finally had to stop beating my head against the wall. I had to let it go. I had to realize he was never going to be the dad that I had wanted, that I had deserved.

So, now I sit here at my desk with the only items I inherited from my father. An ancient stationery box, tied closed with a tattered brown shoestring. Inside is a cracked leather wallet containing nothing but a swim certification card and an ID card from 1942. There is a medal from World War II and some patches from his Army Air Corps uniform. A handful of shells from New Guinea. A tiny memory book from his Junior-Senior Banquet, corners crumbling, faded names of long dead friends written in pencil. A program for the Mackay Trotting Club Races with the bets in pounds instead of dollars. His high school diploma. A letter from the one woman he ever truly loved…not my mother…the woman who broke his heart and led him to settle for the next best thing in his eyes which, unfortunately, WAS my mother. His birth certificate and Notice of Certification for the military. A picture from the newspaper when he won a fiberglass fishing rod and reel the year I was born. The birth announcement from my second child. A postcard with a picture of the nursing home in which he eventually died after Alzheimer’s ravaged his mind.

Along with some snapshots, and an old sweatshirt his wife gave me, this is all I have of my father. This and the memories. The Christmas Eves when mom piled us in the car to hunt him down at some bar and bring him home. The time he knocked me off the piano bench then sat on the bottom step and cried. The time he brought a loaded gun to the kitchen when I was ten and begged my mother to kill him. But, if I sit really quietly, I can remember when he bounced us on his knee during the opening music of Bonanza, sending us reeling on imaginary galloping steeds. The time he took me fishing. The time he chased the neighbor boy off for peeking in the window at me, ready to defend my honor if need be. The time he taught me to change a tire and get out of a snowbank before he would let me get my driver’s license. The time he talked me through the steps of building my first birdhouse. I still have that birdhouse on my front porch.

Yes, there are hurts in our lives that we can never forget. But the ticket to freedom from the past lies in forgiveness. In letting go. In releasing him from the awesome, unfulfillable responsibility of my happiness. Thus letting that little girl, who still lives inside me, hold out her hands and release her death grip on the dove she has held to her breast for far too long…releasing it to fly ever upward. And in so doing, has bought her own freedom.

What God Sees

Tue, 28 Jan 2014 02:30:50 -0600

“Girls at Camp”

There are so many things in life that we are uncomfortable talking about. Death is obvious, and I make it a point to discuss the subject openly and honestly as it affects me personally. Yet, I believe one of the most difficult topics to discuss openly is abuse…physical, emotional, sexual. It is just as uncomfortable to talk about today as it was 50 years ago even though great strides have been made to bring it to light. I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse, on more than one occasion, by more than one person. The memories didn’t fully surface until my own daughters were the ages I was when my abuse occurred. I sought professional help to work through what had happened to me and how it affected my self-perception. When I started seeing a grief counsellor in October, we did a session of EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) to rid me of a traumatic image of Mr. Virgo that kept resurfacing. Once that was relieved, I asked if EMDR works on traumatic memories from childhood and I was assured that it can. I scheduled a second session and prepared myself to relive the trauma of my abuse all over again in my mind.

EMDR consists of holding the traumatic image in your mind and watching either the therapists’ back and forth hand motion or moving lights, revealing any new or changed images, then holding onto that new image while the process is repeated. After about the third round, I noticed that the “bad boy” was no longer with me in the image of the garage. Instead, I was standing in a pool of light, alone. It was a relief. What happened next though was astonishing. My next vision was of a massive figure…tall, made of light, powerful…holding a sword in one hand and pointing toward the darkness with the other. She was fierce, her face twisted with the anger of a mama grizzly protecting her young. I knew in an instant she was my Guardian Angel. I felt she had been with me all of my life, even in the ER when Mr. Virgo died. I felt comforted, yet again, knowing in truth that we are never alone, no matter how isolated we feel as we travel along our path.

My grief counsellor is faith based which also gives me great comfort. After the EMDR session was complete, she asked if I would be interested in doing a SOZO prayer with her. The SOZO Ministry is a “unique inner healing and deliverance ministry aimed to get to the root of things hindering your personal connection with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. With a healed connection, you can walk in the destiny to which you have been called.” I’m all about praying so I agreed to try. She said a prayer and had me repeat it. I have no recollection of what was said. She asked a question and I answered. Can’t recall that one either. Then she asked me to repeat after her, “God, how do You see me?” Oh, my gosh! I was immediately shown an image as if it was happening right there in the room. What I saw was myself, as a little girl, in a white dress, barefoot in the dusty dirt of a summer’s day. I was standing beneath the huge oak tree near the garage where I had been molested and I was spinning and dancing, looking up at the sky between the branches, the sun dappled on my tanned arms and legs. I was laughing at something beyond my vision. I was free, pure, delightful, untouched. I was innocent and unselfconscious. I was…AM…all of those things in God’s eyes. I had liberated myself years ago from the chains of self-loathing I had strapped on without realizing the root of my pain was in how I perceived myself, not in how I really am. But this was a remarkable image of the way God actually sees me.

My uncle once told me, whenever you feel you are indispensable or important in the world, just stick your hand in a bucket of water, pull it back out, then look to see what kind of impression you made. I told a dear friend about this “lesson” in life and he stunned me. He said, “Ginny, when you stick your hand in a bucket of water, the water level rises. And when you remove your hand, not only does the water level drop, there is actually less water in the bucket than before.” What a beautiful way to look at your place in the world. You deserve to be here. You are important. You are what GOD sees, not what YOU…or anyone…else sees.