Growth on Marshmallow Ranch

What Happens When the Last Tree Falls?

Wed, 04 Jun 2025 04:45:00 -0600

When my grandma died in 1999, something had to be done. She was widowed in 1971 and was left to care for the farm and my uncle. He had a developmental disability and had lived at home all his life. Grandma was a strong woman and did what she had to do to take care of things. Toward the end of her life, an aunt (a widow herself) came to live with them and then stayed on to care for her beloved brother.

The farm was left to another uncle to see that the family was taken care of. To do that, he had to have part of the farm logged. They never told me about it, and when I came for my annual visit and went for my usual hike back on the hill, I stepped into the clearing and…the trees were GONE! It was a punch in the gut, and I dropped to my knees and cried.

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First, no one owed me an explanation. I was just one of the grandchildren. Second, I understood that forests need to be maintained to remain healthy. But this was “clear-cut”…the hallowed grounds of my youth had been laid bare. I know it had to be done…I just wasn’t prepared for the shock of seeing it like that.

Fast forward to today. I remarried in 2018 and now live with my husband on the five-acre homestead he has owned since 1979. I’ve spent most of my adult life praying to live on a piece of ground such as this in my home state of West Virginia. I’ve always wanted to be a farm girl. Our land is flat and surrounded by wooded hills and creeks. I’ve come to know each tree. The black walnut trees that sporadically grace us with an abundance of nuts. The pear trees are even more sporadic in their production of juicy fruit. Tall sycamore trees whose leaves are as big as a dinner plate and whose naked white limbs reach out like ghosts in the winter woods.

It’s an idyllic little paradise here. I’ve come to take our views for granted, I’m afraid. Then one morning last week, I awoke to the sound of a chainsaw. Not unusual to hear people cutting up firewood or trimming fallen branches. But this was different. There is an intensity in the sound of a chainsaw that is felling a tree. It’s going after it in a way that means business. Then…the unmistakable cracking of the last bit of wood that’s held the tree up for decades. It crashed to the ground with an unceremonious thud.

My heart hurts.

One after another, after another. The trees came down. Then the heavy equipment came in to haul the trees-turned-logs away. They came back the next day and the next. It’s been five days now, and it’s clear now. They are logging the hill that has been our beautiful view at the end of the far field. I feel the sting of tears just writing these words. The beloved trees that bring us the promise of new life every spring, when we begin to see the first touch of green. The beautiful trees that offer their glorious golds and yellows as the backdrop to mark the end of another season.

It’s like a train wreck…you don’t want to watch, but you can’t take your eyes away. One must have the proper attitude about trees on another person’s property. They are a cash crop to that person….a savings account, as it were. We move with the rhythms of nature here in the country. Animals are slaughtered for food. The ground is plowed for gardens. It’s a shock to the system when something you took for granted gets yanked out from under you.

We’ll adjust. What choice do we have? And eventually…the bare hillside will become verdant with new growth, and the circle of life begins yet again. In the meantime…

My heart hurts.

💔

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4 ESV

***Gratitude Journal***  Today, I am grateful that I can learn to adapt to change while still honoring the pain it causes me.

Learning New Tricks

Sat, 26 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Image by Ginny McKinney with Meta AI - It’s not me, but the resemblance is uncanny!

Turns out, you CAN teach an old dog new tricks. I’ve been writing my blog for over a dozen years now over on the book of faces. I have a good sized following there, but I worry about the future of the platform. I spent three years copying about 8 years worth of back posts over to my website to give me control of my content. I didn’t want to lose all that writing. By my rough calculations, I’ve written over two million words in those twelve years. It’s time for this ol’ gal to learn new tricks and branch out!

I have a lovely niece who lives in NYC. Her job is helping people with their online presence. I’m just a simple farm gal, living on five acres in West Virginia with my husband and a farm cat named Pumpkin. But I have a lot to say and she’s helping me learn a new platform on Substack.

Yesterday was beautiful here on Marshmallow Ranch. It was a bit cooler with a little rain. My Bonus Daughter came over for a visit midday and that’s always a treat. After being gone for nine days at the beach, I’m still catching up with putting things away so I haven’t been cooking quite as much. Sometimes it’s nice to just have a ham sandwich and some chips and call it a day. We are loving the homemade bread I’ve been baking so we’re eating more sandwiches, toast, and French Toast. Ooooh, my waistline is reminding me I’d better slow down with that.

I’m meeting some of my high school girlfriends for coffee this morning. It’s always fun to see them and it’s been a while since we’ve gathered. It was a long, cold, snowy winter so it’s time to get out and about again. We are going to a birthday party for Mrs. FixIt 1.0 this afternoon. If it’s dry enough tomorrow, I’ll go out to The Farm in the afternoon to mow. It probably needs a brush hog by now!

I hope you all have fun plans for the weekend!

🩵🌷🩵

“Intelligent people are always ready to learn. Their ears are open for knowledge.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭18‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

*Gratitude Journal*** Today I am grateful that God brings me good teachers and I can learn new things.

Learn to Dance in the Rain

Mon, 07 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

”Learn to Dance in the Rain” - AI by Ginny McKinney with Meta AI

Darlings…what a weekend! It has rained about 4.5” since Friday. The ground is so wet that when you walk across the yard, it’s like a bog. Squish…Squish…Squish. There is so much water in the pool, it’s pouring out the overflow. The creeks are roaring. But there’s no water coming into the basement. Ever since we started putting the root killer down the storm drain, it hasn’t overflowed. It came close Saturday night, but we put the crystals in and within twenty-four hours the water level was down two inches. We just have to be vigilant and use it regularly.

The water in the drain is not the only thing going down. I made the awful mistake of looking at my retirement fund last night. Here’s a helpful tip…DO NOT DO THAT! At first my heart sank. Knowing it is likely to fall more today is disconcerting. As hard as that is to take, I know God has always taken care of us and we are more precious than the birds in the fields. I know it’s hard not to worry, it really is. But last night, I just sat with God and told Him I put my life in His hands twenty-one years ago. I’m not backing out when the going gets tough.

Like most people, we are looking at more ways to cut our expenses. I think satellite is out. We’ll soon have fiber optic internet here. Once that is installed, we can drop the DSL line and stream what we can get online. I’ve cut out extra spending. We only buy what is necessary these days. I know we are taking this trip to the beach, but it’s already paid for as is my flight to Colorado this summer.

It is a good thing we don’t eat much meat anymore. We are going to make some raised beds for greens to add to our diet. I bake all of our bread. We don’t eat much dairy but I do keep powdered milk and canned evaporated milk in the pantry. I grew up making do with what we had. Yes…I have been terribly “advantaged” in my adult life. But, I’ve been studying and practicing homesteading and survival skills for a very long time.

We are heading into lean times, I’m afraid. And I’m not telling you all of this to worry you or scare you. I look at paring down to the bare essentials as more like a game to see how little we need to get by.

Happiness is most often mind over matter.

If you don’t mind…it don’t matter.

Do what you can with what you have.

Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.

Start small.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Pray about it. Pray over it. Pray through it.

And remember…the pendulum always swings back.

🩵🌷🙏🏼🌷🩵

““Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭19‬-‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Gratitude Journal 
Today I am grateful for my humble upbringing with a grandma who taught me how to make do. I am grateful that I have a Heavenly Father who wants us to prosper and who will take care of us.

Let Your Inner Beauty Shine

Thu, 27 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Image by Meta AI

Like most women “of a certain age,” I pull hands full of hair out of my brush every week. I think when you have long hair, it looks like you’re losing a lot more than than if you keep it short. But still, I was getting worried. The last time I had my hair this long, my little braid was only as big around as my thumb. My “widow’s peak” was becoming more and more pronounced. So I knew I needed to do something that would help restore my hair, if that was even possible.

I only shampoo my hair once a week and only wash the roots. Rinsing is enough to draw down over the length of my hair and doesn’t strip it of oils. I only use the conditioner on the length of my hair and never on the crown. That way it doesn’t weigh down my hair and make it greasy.

When I started Noom, I also started RYZE Mushroom Coffee and put collagen powder in it. I was amazed what it did for my hair. It was just starting to get silky smooth again when my Endocrinologist asked me to stop the supplement for six months to see if it made a difference in my kidney function. It did not, so I was allowed to return to taking my Vital Proteins Collagen Powder every day. In the time I was off of it, my hair really went downhill. It was frizzy and lifeless and it took a good three months to improve. Now my braid is nice and full, my hair is silky and shiny, and I have new “baby hairs” growing all around my crown. It looks like a halo in the sunshine.

This is a miracle product. After shampooing and before conditioning, I squeeze out as much water as I can. Then I apply this sparingly to the bottom half of my hair and squeeze it through to coat. Then rinse. You don’t have to leave it on long.

I have to switch up my hair products from time to time. The one I’ve been using for the last year or so has worked great. I’ll leave pictures of the products here for you to see and details of my routine. I’m really happy with my hair now. It’s been two years since I cut it last. I’ve let my bangs grow out, too. They’ve gotten long enough that I can almost keep them pulled back in my ponytail. I used to get my hair cut, highlighted, and styled regularly. I quit using any color about two or three years after Mr. Virgo and I got married. I let it go great and it’s been fun to see it change over the years. I don’t think I’ll ever have my mom’s beautiful white hair, but silver works for me.

This is a leave in conditioner. After I’ve conditioned with the regular conditioner, I usually blow-dry my hair but if it’s warm out, I sit in the sun and brush it till it’s dry. Then I use a very small amount of this…pea sized. I rub my hands together then run my hair through my hands in one side of my head and repeat on the other side.

(I always sleep with my hair pulled back in a long braid. I repeat this conditioning step about three times a week before I braid my hair for bed.)

I quit going to the salon altogether once Covid hit. I trimmed my own bangs as best I could and called it good. I’ve never had Covid (thank you, God) and I’ve save quite a bit of money, too. I like the look now that the bangs are way down below my chin. It feels more stylish without even trying. Because I don’t try anymore. If I had the money back that I spent in the hair and nail salon and being pampered with a massage or facial…I could have easily had a trip to Europe. That just makes me sad. But, I was working in those days. I was younger and worried more about appearances.

A lot of things have changed since Mr. FixIt and I have been together. We aren’t fancy by any measure. I mean, we clean up good, but I’ll bet I haven’t put makeup on more than a handful of times in the last decade. I just feel good in my skin now and there are no complaints from my husband. If you feel good, keep clean, drink a lot of water, get some fresh air every day and a little exercise, and a solid night’s sleep…your inner health shines through.

I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but you are BEAUTIFUL! You deserve to take care of yourself however works for you. Be confident and kind and you’ll positively sparkle in the sun!

✨☀️✨

“Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16‬:‭31‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for God showing me I am loved, no matter what I look like. I am loved by Jesus and if Jesus loves me, who am I to not love myself? I am worthy and I am enough…just the way I am!

The Ol’ Bait and Switch

Tue, 11 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

“I picked these red flags just for you!”

It’s the oldest trick in the book…reel ‘em in till you catch ‘em. They often promise one thing then pull the rug out from under you. Once they know they’ve got you, the plan is put in motion. Take away little things. Make you doubt yourself. Isolate you. And when they have you where they want you, the real abuse begins.

There was a young woman on a different social media platform yesterday who asked for opinions regarding an issue she was having with her boyfriend. It appears they broke up at one point then got back together. Then they pretty quickly moved in together. She had her own little car…her first big girl purchase that she was very proud of. Somehow, her boyfriend got her to put his name on the title and now he wants to sell it. She uses that car to get to and from work. They live miles out of town…no convenient way to get to a grocery store. If he sold the car, she would have to rely on him to take her anywhere she wanted to go. She wanted to know what she should do.

Ooooooooh….the hair stood up on the back of my neck.

She KNOWS what she has to do…but she’s already in so far, it won’t be easy. She KNOWS this situation could turn violent, yet she’s afraid to go it alone. She KNOWS women often die in these situations, but he always comes back with something sweet and tells her how sorry he is. He tells her, “If you didn’t do ___________ all the time, I wouldn’t have to be like this.”

Gaslighting.

The problem is…this person is bringing you bouquets of red flags wrapped in ribbons and you see roses. It happens more often to young women who maybe haven’t had enough knocks from life yet to see through the lies. Maybe their daddy was the same way with their mommy and they think this is how men are supposed to treat women.

When I see this, I want to grab the girl and run, trying to put some sense in her head. It seems like such a cynical thing to have to teach your daughters when they’re growing up. Some do, but sometimes the mother went through the same thing and she thinks the best way to survive is just to make yourself less so he is made more. It is not easy to get women away from an abuser.

Unfortunately, it’s not always a boyfriend. It can be someone you trusted like your friend’s dad, the pastor, the bigger boy down the street, the frat boys on campus, your boss, a star, or even an elected official. It’s especially dangerous when you’ve been groomed by the offender…sometimes for years. They promise you safety then they rip you apart with a chainsaw.

But here’s the hope….you don’t have to live this way. You can escape abuse. Find trusted allies. Make a careful plan then execute it quickly. There is absolutely nothing wrong with admitting you’ve made a huge mistake by hooking up with the wrong guy. There are people who want to help get you to safety. You just have to be brave and find them. Life can be beautiful on the other side of abuse. It won’t be easy, but finding peace again will be worth it.

A lot of women out there could sure use a helping hand by someone who’s been there. Please feel free to share this with others who might find themselves in hard situations and they’re just now seeing the red flags. You can’t imagine how much a simple “Are you ok?” can do for someone feeling afraid or hopeless. Check in on people you suspect may be having a hard time.

Graduation is coming up soon and a lot of young women are preparing to go out into the big world…on their own. Let’s keep them safe.

💚

“But if you do what is wrong, you will be paid back for the wrong you have done. For God has no favorites.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3‬:‭25‬ ‭NLT

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the wisdom I’ve gained in my senior years. I see red flags a lot clearer now than I did in early adulthood.

Edit: A friend pointed out to me…men are also victims of gaslighting and abuse. I didn’t mean to overlook them. Thank you, Lin.

‬‬

The Language of Rebellion

Tue, 11 Feb 2025 02:30:00 -0600

In yesterday’s post, I lamented that I didn’t like the Super Bowl halftime show. I’m not a big fan of rap. I’ve heard of Kendrick Lamar, but I can’t say that I haven’t listened to any of his music. So, I was a captive audience…mainly out of curiosity. As I watched the measured choreography, my brain struggled to find some understanding in his craft. I couldn’t help but think I was missing something. Something told me he was sending out a message…that this was an anthem of rebellion of some type. But, try as I might, my white-bread brain couldn’t suss it out.

In yesterday’s post, I lamented that I didn’t like the Super Bowl halftime show. I’m not a big fan of rap. I’ve heard of Kendrick Lamar, but I can’t say that I have listened to any of his music. So, I was a captive audience…mainly out of curiosity. As I watched the measured choreography, my brain struggled to find some understanding in his craft. I couldn’t help but think I was missing something. I had a feeling he was sending out a message…that this was an anthem of rebellion. But, try as I might, my white-bread brain couldn’t suss it out.

Granted, I couldn’t understand the lyrics. Thinking back, I caught enough words to make me want to investigate further. I don’t like explicit rap. But I came to understand this was Lamar’s art as activism…his paint and canvas. In much the same way as Michelangelo’s sculpture, David…was a symbol of resistance against the powerful Medici patronage in Florence. Marcel Duchamp, Otto Dix, Jasper Johns, Banksy, Picasso…all famous artists that used their work as the language of rebellion against the rise of fascism, war, famine, racism, dehumanization, Apartheid.

Kendrick Lamar was speaking in his own language about something that runs deep in the fabric of our history. For example, the image of the dancers forming an American flag while bent over symbolized how America was built largely on the backs of black people. His songs “40 Acres” hark back to the inhumane practice of slavery. “Wesley’s Theory,” “For Free.” There was symbolism of Uncle Tom and Jim Crow…all in an effort to remind us…the NFL may take the “End Racism” signs down, but we need to keep our eyes open. Unfortunately, it still happens.

I’m not getting into a political discussion. I was just interested in the symbolism and how it fits into our society as a whole. Unless you are a multi-linguist and speak many languages, you really only understand your native tongue. It’s understandable that there will be any forms of free speech that we do not comprehend. But, we can learn…open our minds and hearts…and look into the hearts and minds of others. This is part and parcel the message Jesus gave us…

💜

Love one another as I have loved you. John 13:34

***Gratitude Journal*** 
Today I am grateful for a God who can give me  an open heart and mind to learn and grow in my love and understanding of others.

#understanding, #compassion, #art

Making the Most of Time

Sun, 23 Jun 2024 01:30:00 -0600

We had a lovely day, keeping cool and swimming in the pool. We grilled steaks and corn-on-the-cob and were just truly lazy. A day spent doing nothing is not necessarily a day wasted. We enjoyed each other’s company. I worked on my laptop all afternoon, trying to get a handle on the 65,000+ e-mails I’ve ignored for far too long. I’ve made a commitment that if I am sitting in the Big Red Chair with Mr. FixIt, I’ll work on this unless I’m writing.

We need to buckle down and get things packed for the trip. My list is long and time is short. I don’t think we can take a whole day off before we leave Thursday. We have all the arrangements made for the house sitter and the lawn mower. Pumpkin Kitty will be well cared for.

We have the funeral today and I’ve gotten a late start on this post. So I’m going to leave this here and I’ll be back tomorrow. Stay cool, my friends.

☀️

“Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”
Matthew 25:13 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

An Unexpected Excursion

Fri, 26 Jan 2024 02:30:00 -0600

After being gone all day Wednesday, I thoroughly expected a stay-at-home day yesterday. After breakfast, I went downstairs and knitted two more babies and another strip for the baby blanket. Mr. FixIt got a call from the friend that was going to go to the funeral home with him last night saying he was sick as a dog and couldn’t go. He told Harry that was fine, he’d go alone. While I was cooking breakfast, he told me he was going anyway so Mike would know he cared.

As I was sitting in my studio working, I kept hearing that over and over in my mind, so at 3:30 I headed upstairs. I jumped in the shower and Mr. FixIt stuck his head in the door and said, “Are you going with me?”

“I sure am. You want to make sure Mike knows you care? Well, I want to make sure you know I care about YOU!”

I could hear the love and appreciation in his voice. We can tell people we love them till the cows come home. But when we get to SHOW them…well, that’s the key to a rewarding life. We didn’t get home till late. The funeral home is about an hour away. It was raining hard and getting foggy. Mr. FixIt suggested we drive back on the Ohio side of the river, but that turned out to be a mistake. By that time it was raining harder and it was REALLY foggy.

We decided to stop in Marietta for supper at IHOP. We’ve been there numerous times for breakfast after church, but never in the evening. When our waitress came to our table twice to introduce herself and forgot to bring the water we requested from the first time, I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t going to be the best experience. We wanted breakfast food and we always ask for eggs over easy and extra crispy bacon. He had hash browns and I had pancakes.

The eggs were barely cooked, the bacon was limp, and the pancakes were cold. I mean…cold. We asked to have the bacon crisped up and she took it away only to return less than a minute with oily bacon from dipping it in the deep fat fryer…which I can’t stand. It was still limp as a dish rag so I asked again to have it crispy. She took it away and about fifteen minutes later she brought us our check. I pointed out that we had never received the bacon and she was so apologetic. She asked about the rest of the meal and I was honest and told her what was wrong.

Bless her heart…she discounted everything. It wasn’t all her fault…they were short staffed and she wasn’t the one doing the cooking. I told her I understood…I’ve been in situations where things didn’t turn out right myself. I smiled and told her not to take it personally. And I gave her a tip. I’m not sure about her restaurant, but I’ve known some to take the money out of the waitstaff’s tips to cover discounts and I didn’t want to short change her. After all, she was out there working, trying to make a living in a pretty thankless job. Waiting tables may not be the career field this young lady sticks with, but for now she’s learning valuable lessons.

There is no good reason to become ugly to someone who is trying. There are far too many people these days who see nothing wrong with reading the riot act to someone for the smallest perceived infraction. Kindness goes a long way in this life and I will always try to take the high road in any given situation.

We finally got home around 8:30 last night…dangerously close to the hour when my brain becomes a pumpkin and my creativity goes out the window. I didn’t have any photos from yesterday and I sure wish I had a picture of the thick blanket of fog that settled on the river because it was remarkable. Instead, I’ll share one I took when I lived in big TOW-Wanda on the West Virginia side of the river back in 2015. That river is alive and looks different from minute to minute. It is fascinating and I truly loved living up there.

We don’t have anyplace to go today, but our belated Christmas celebration with our son’s family is tomorrow. I need to bake the Cinnamon Rolls and pick up around the house. And, I’ll spend a little time making more babies!

🩵

”But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.“
Galatians 5:22-23 ESV

#Kindness, #Lessons, #Family

Opportunities to Rise

Thu, 30 Nov 2023 02:30:00 -0600

We stopped at an art gallery and I saw this amazing nativity. I’ll share more photos tomorrow.

Mr. FixIt and I needed to leave home by 10:30 so I could drop him off at his friend’s house and make it to lunch with my friends at 11:30. I fixed us a quick breakfast and we sat down to eat and have our coffee. The sun came out and we were thrilled the temperature was going up as it got down to 13° during the night. I took a sip of coffee and glanced over at the wall above Alexa and there was a ghostly apparition above it. I studied for a minute and finally realized the sun was reflecting off the window bird feeder. I couldn’t have had some fun with Mr. FixIt but I opted for adulting. lol

I had so much fun meeting with my high school friends at lunch. We laughed and told stories and shared memories. I love to see us at this age. We’ve gone full circle. Most of us really only made friends as adults, but you’d never know it. For some reason, our class is really tight. We talked about how meaningful it is to know people now who may not have treated us well in high school. When we come to realize everyone suffered the angst of adolescence in different ways. And the majority of them grow up and become pretty cool folks.

One of the gals told us she was at a class reunion and a group of gals came in who had heckled her in high school. She sat back and figured they would leave her alone. Instead, they all came over and asked her to go sit with them. She had heard one of them had breast cancer. She asked how the lady was doing. She said she was doing really well…great in fact. Then…she died three weeks later. She thanks God that she had the opportunity to rise above.

The same thing happened to me. One of the girls who gave me all kinds of grief in gym class wanted to come to the next reunion. She had never attended and she felt nervous about it. I had connected with her on FB a few months before to encourage her to come. She told me she was afraid people wouldn’t like her because of the way she treated them in school. I assured her we had all grown, and if there were anyone still holding a grudge, it would be an excellent opportunity for her to mend some bridges. She showed up and folks welcomed her with open arms. And… a few weeks later, she died instantly of a heart attack.

Sometimes God gives us opportunities to resolve conflicts long before we are called to the Golden Gates. When we have the wisdom and maturity to step up and make things right, it’s good for our soul. When we can clear things off the slate, we not only get to talk to God about the bad thing, we get to talk about how we made it right. He knows, of course. But He wants to hear it from us.

I hated to pull away from our conversation, but I needed to get Mr. FixIt to an appointment so I rushed off. When we were finished, we stopped at a little restaurant we neither one had been to. We had a lovely meal and when we got ready to leave, I couldn’t find my phone. Mr. FixIt couldn’t call it because he left his in the truck. The ladies in the next booth offered to call my phone so I could find it, which I did. I turned to you and said, “Well, now you have my number, you can find me anytime!” I stuck my hand out and said, “I’m Ginny McKinney!” She paused and looked at me a moment. “From Marshmallow Ranch?” OMGosh! This lady came to a talk I gave at her church seven years ago! It’s a small world, isn’t it?

We went on and made a stop at the store, then headed home in the dark. It was a good day and I’ll be darned if I don’t have to go back in today for a follow up medical appointment of my own. It just seems to be a never-ending thing at this age. As much as I would love to stay home, I’m grateful to have the opportunity to see good doctors and have adequate healthcare. I’m grateful it’s nothing worse. I’m grateful no one is dropping bombs on us or stealing our neighbors away at gunpoint or killing our children. We are so incredibly blessed to live in this country and we all need to start acting like it.

So go out there today and do something good for your neighbor. Mend your fences where you can. And bless ‘em where you can’t. Life is too short to hold onto anger and resentment. It’s the poison you take hoping it hurts the other guy.

God bless you all today. I love y’all!

🎄

“And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel, When a man or woman commits any of the sins that people commit by breaking faith with the Lord, and that person realizes his guilt, he shall confess his sin that he has committed. And he shall make full restitution for his wrong, adding a fifth to it and giving it to him to whom he did the wrong. But if the man has no next of kin to whom restitution may be made for the wrong, the restitution for wrong shall go to the Lord for the priest, in addition to the ram of atonement with which atonement is made for him.”
Numbers 5:5-8 ESV

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Christmas Words… this tree of words reminds us of what we should all focus on this season of goodwill.

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A Time to Build

Fri, 10 Nov 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Grandma nurtured all who passed through her doors. Whether it was with a cup of coffee and one of her famous Raisin-Filled Cookies for the adults or a hug and a slice of jelly bread for the youngin’s, she always welcomed you to her table with grace and cheer. She’s been gone now since 1999 and oh, how I miss her. But, I can still feel her goodness within these walls and I love having time here with my memories. I will concede, the high-speed internet is a bonus.

I know there are some of you who don’t like to see my “ads” for my shop right up in your face. That’s why I started adding them at the bottom of my posts Monday through Saturday. I also have a separate Facebook page for Marshmallow Ranch Designs and an Etsy Shop that I’m trying to get off the ground. Y’all could really help me out if you would do the “s” word and let others know about it. Small Businesses everywhere need all the help they can get and I just know there are folks out there who might like to get a little something for someone at this time of year.

That being said, I do want to show you what I’ve been working on for the last three days here at the farm. I’ve been trying to think of something that would appeal to a broader audience. Something small, not terribly expensive, yet good quality and design. That’s when I got the idea to make a cute Christmas Ornament for ALL 50 States! Try as I might, I couldn’t settle on a design I like but it finally came to me yesterday morning. Less is more. So I trimmed it back and made the simplest of embellishments and if I do say so myself, they’re pretty darned cute!

My stay was delightful and Mr. FixIt got along just fine without me there to cluck over him like an old mother hen. He even cooked for himself. I remember asking Grandma if PopPop helped her with the cooking and cleaning and she snorted. “That man couldn’t even fry an egg!” I busted out laughing because I had never, ever heard her say a derogatory word about the man she shared her life with since she was fifteen.

We had a heck of a rainstorm yesterday morning, but the sun came out in the afternoon and it was lovely. I swept the ladybugs off the front porch again and there weren’t quite as many as the day before. I’m looking forward to getting home and FINALLY attacking the family room. I really want to paint it before the holidays, but I’m not sure if I can get that done or not. It may have to wait till spring now. I don’t particularly want to paint when I can’t open the house up and air it out. And, we’d have to take the gas stove out to paint behind it and right now we are depending on it for our heat till the furnace is fixed. Pipe dreams.

Thanks for indulging me and looking at my work. I’m looking forward to the winter when I can do some “makerly” work… things I make with my own hands. That’s how Marshmallow Ranch started in the first place. I made jewelry from antique silverware and maps and such in my art studio in Colorado and sold them on Etsy. Ahhh, that seems like three lifetimes ago. I suppose in a way, it has been. My life as Mr. Virgo’s wife in Colorado. My life as a widow on the road. And my life alongside Mr. FixIt here in West Virginia. That life… THIS life is the best!

🍁

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11 ESV

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US States Christmas Ornaments have arrived in the shop! Do you have a friend or loved one who lives far from their home? Or maybe a service member or college student who is missing home this holiday season? Send them some cookies and this cute little ornament to lift their spirits.

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Women’s Work Isn’t What it Used to Be

Sun, 01 Oct 2023 01:30:00 -0600

This is what the dinette looked like before. The seats were terribly uncomfortable, the table was mounted way too high, and the front edge of the bench seat dug into your hip everytime to you tried to sit.

Now, before I go any further, Mr. FixIt had to help me at the end with some heavy lifting. But I did a huge job on my own and I’m pretty darned proud of myself! You know yesterday morning I showed you the RV loveseat we purchased to replace the dinette in our new camper. Well, Mr. FixIt left before noon to go get his hair cut and do a little shopping so I got to work on the camper.

The first thing I had to do was empty the storage under the two bench seats of the dinette. We’ve spent enough time in this camper now to know what we use and what just takes up space and weight. With the added weight of the loveseat, I need to trim the stuff we tow along with us and never touch.

My initial thought was, I would empty, sort, cull, collate and store what needed to stay under the bed. The rest would go in the house and then I could start on the demolition. But, no…

I am a Gemini. When I am faced with a fun project, I have to jump in with both feet! I threw everything on the bed, went out to the building to get Mr. FixIt’s tool bag and set to removing the dinette.

It was really quite easy. The benches are screwed down to the floor and the walls of the slideout. I took the first bench out and started on the second. It was a little more complicated because the electrical wiring for the slideout motor was threaded down through a hole in the bottom cross brace. I unhooked the battery and unplugged the camper. Then I tested the lights to make sure the power was indeed off.

I snipped the wires and lifted that bench seat out, then I spliced the wiring back together. Before I went any further, I connected the battery and plugged the camper back in and tested the lights and slideout. Magic! I found my hand-held vacuum and swept the bottom of the slideout to clean it up. Then it was ready to install the new reclining loveseat.

We unloaded the loveseat Friday and set it in the driveway under a tarp. The backs of the recliners come off and they’re really light so I just carried them out to the camper. The seat portion of the recliners was another thing altogether. I lifted them onto the dolly and wheeled them out to the camper, but I didn’t have the strength to carry them into the camper alone. I wheeled first one, then the other and set them on my oilskin tablecloth to keep them clean.

I no sooner got the second one wheeled out to the camper when Mr. FixIt called. He was almost home so I told him I would wait for him before I started the next step. He was really impressed by how much I got done while he was gone. I told him my plan for getting the bottom halves of the chairs inside and he thought it was a fine idea. We brought them in without difficulty and got them placed where we wanted them.

The man at the dealership where we bought the loveseat said I didn’t need to anchor them down, but I didn’t agree with that. I studied the frame and there were two holes in the front bar of the frame that were obviously for bolting it down to the slide. I could just imagine pulling into our campsite and finding the whole apparatus crushed against the kitchen. We discussed the best way to anchor them and decided to run over to the hardware store in our little village to get four lag bolts. We neither one felt it was necessary to anchor the back of the chair to the floor, too. Once the front is anchored, the loveseat isn’t going anywhere unless the trailer turns over and if that happens, dinging up the front of the kitchen cabinets would be the least of our worries.

We found exactly what we needed. Mr FixIt told me how to do it and asked if I needed any help. I gave him a kiss and a big thank you for all the help with the heavy lifting. He gave me a kiss right back and told me what a great job I did!!! It’s been a long time since I’ve done a job like this and I absolutely LOVE it. When you push yourself to do something new, then finish it well, there is a huge sense of accomplishment and pride that comes with that.

So, as I am writing this, I am sitting in my side of the recliner and writing this on my iPad that’s set up on my lap desk. I’m listening to the night sounds and going through a checklist in my mind of what needs to go back in the house and what can be packed in our two trunks we take with us in the bed of the truck. They carry the camping gear we can’t or don’t want to store inside.

We did have a bit of concern yesterday regarding our trip to the beach. I called the campground that’s run by the National Parks Service and was told if there was a shutdown, they would be closed. But it looks like the Continuing Resolution will pass and folks can get their paychecks and we can still go on our last big camping trip of the season.

Welcome, October!!!

???

“For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: “The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat.””
2 Thessalonians 3:10 NIV

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No ads today…Enjoy your Sunday!

Autumn Leaves Teach Us

Wed, 16 Aug 2023 01:30:00 -0600

There are lessons to be learned in the simplest of things. Once you look for God in the mundane, you see extraordinary concepts play out before your very eyes. I’ve been designing autumn themed shirts for my Etsy shop so I’ve been searching through graphics with images of leaves, pumpkins, Pumpkin Spice Lattes…even footballs. While I’m not ready for summer to be over, I do love the change of seasons and autumn is certainly stunning when she gets all dressed up.

I was studying a very old cherry tree out at the farm the other day. I remember when that tree was so small, even a little like me could reach up and pluck the crimson red cherries and put them in a pail at my feet. That tree must be 30’-35’ tall now. It’s not necessarily healthy and there hasn’t been a cherry on it for decades. But, I’m telling you, in her heyday…she produced gallons and gallons of pie cherries.

As she ages, her lower branches die and the leaves have mostly fallen off by the beginning of August. I watched each golden yellow leaf twist in the wind till it finally let go and made its single, solitary flight to the ground. It doesn’t hold on forever. It doesn’t get a second chance. It just flies.

There’s the cherry tree. That’s my mom’s ‘64 Ford Fairlane so this had to have been before ‘69 because she got a Plymouth Duster that year.

We can do that, too. If we don’t hold on so tight. If we live our seasons with love and intention. If we just let go we might find the subsequent journey to be a little less frightening than we imagined. But, ohhhh….we do want to hold on tight. We really don’t like change.

I’ve always said “Change is my middle name.” Bring me more of it. I get bored if things aren’t stirred up from time to time. Mr. FixIt is hesitant to change. We both grew up in homes that were unpredictable. My coping strategy was to roll with the punches and learn to look forward and anticipate change. His is trying to maintain the status quo so we can stay safe and secure. I think it’s just the difference between a man and a woman…seeing things so differently.

When I see a leaf in mid flight, enjoying its journey…fulfilling its purpose…I smile and remember.

It’s ok to let go of things and embrace change.
God will always be there to catch us when we fall…
or teach us how to fly.

“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

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Autumn Leaves Teach Us - Long Sleeved T-Shirt

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We Did a Thing

Sun, 25 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

No, we didn’t buy another camper. The other day when we drove through town, we saw a sign in the park.

“Music Saturday Night 7-9PM”

Cool! We love live music. So we made a note to go. But then it started raining and more was predicted through the evening. Mr. FixIt said that would be the end of the music so I took it we weren’t going to go. We went to the farm yesterday to mow before we leave on our trip. Beans texted me early to say the kids were there and there was no water. That pump has seen its better days and try as we might…repeatedly priming it isn’t a long term solution. The problem is, that meant the pump in the cellar house had been running for gosh know how long. It took us quite a bit of time to get the tractor to start this time, but she finally fired up and I got the lawn mowed while Mr. FixIt unplugged the pump and turned off the water heater again. Frank and Beans will get a new tank for the pump and hopefully that will take care of the problem.

When we got home, I decided to take a short nap. We had hamburger for the grill. When I got up it was 6:00 and started cleaning up the kitchen to fix supper. Mr. FixIt came in and said, “We’re going to have to leave right now if we’re going to make it to the concert!” What??? I had no food ready and not much to throw together. I don’t handle quick changes to plans as well as I did when I was younger and I may have been a bit snippy to this nice man of mine. I made him a PB&J and threw some grapes, cold chicken, and pretzels in a bag with a couple of cans of Diet Coke and bottle of water. I was done and out the door in five minutes.

We got to the park and….no one was there. There were a couple of birthday parties at the shelters, but no music. We went around the side where the sign was and someone had added a note saying the music had been moved into…

THE SENIOR CENTER!

I’ve never been there. I mean…senior centers are where old people go to play bingo and solve jigsaw puzzles, right??? I entered with great trepidation. I took my knitting. I figured I’d fit right in! The band was setting up and the room was pretty crowded. We found seats and I nibbled on the cold chicken and grapes and before long, the music started.

The three piece band included drums, a bass guitar, and the lead singer who played keyboards, electric and acoustic guitars, the fiddle, and harmonica. The couple next to us smile. The man leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “He used to play cruise ships.”

Great. My inner two-year-old was grumpy from her nap, and she didn’t have her corn-on-the-cob and burgers on the grill like she wanted, and now she was being FORCED to sit in a room with OLD people and listen to a guy sing karaoke. I was positively a stink pot! I picked up my knitting and the music started.

Then, the magic happened.

The lead singer opened his mouth and started singing. His range was remarkable. He easily went from deep, deep bass to falsetto and back again. He had a clever set up with a background vocals track he skillfully played because the other two musicians didn’t sing. He was a one man band with backup.

He had an impressive repertoire and sang everything from rock and roll to country and gospel. Elvis, Garth Brooks, Willie Nelson, Jimmy Buffet. He had us singing the sha-la-las in Brown Eyed Girl. I looked around. Women were dancing in a conga line up the aisle and back around down the sides. Everyone was laughing and singing along.

Suddenly, it hit me. In my parent’s older years, the music that was played in nursing homes was likely to be songs of longing for the boys who went off to war, or Glenn Miller’s rendition of Pennsylvania Six Five Thousand. They knew all the words. Nowadays, we’ll be in the senior centers and nursing homes singing Neil Young and the Grateful Dead and the Eagles. We’ll know all the words, too.

That’s when I knew. I’ll be back to the Senior Center. They have live music the third Saturday of every month. They serve a great pulled pork sandwich and there’s vendors with handmade goods like birdhouses and peanut butter fudge. They sell tickets for a 50/50 drawing. I was humbled. Maybe there’s something I can do to help there. When we left I gave Mr. FixIt my profoundest apologies for being a pistol and he smiled and hugged me. He gets me.

Hmmmmm…I wonder if they have yoga classes or a knitting group?

“Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.”
Philippians 2:3-5 NLT

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Life is like the ocean…it goes up and down.

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A Lovely Day at Home

Sat, 17 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt got a call yesterday from our son inviting him on an outing for Father’s Day. They usually play a round of golf, but he’s not quite up for that yet, so they’re going fishing. He decided to go to town after supper to get bait for his excursion and asked if I wanted to go. As much as I love to go places with him, I wanted to stay home on Thursday and that didn’t happen. So, I passed. He wants to be home with me today to help me pack the camper and truck for my camping trip with the girls, so that’s a fair exchange.

We’ve had some rain the last week and we’re so grateful. The ground was beginning to crack open because we’ve been so dry. I love those late afternoon, early evening showers that cool things off without being steamy from humidity. I worked most of the day on Marshmallow Ranch Designs and have some cute new things coming….mugs, scarves, garden flags, etc.

I made a yummy meal yesterday of skinless, boneless chicken thighs simmered in a lemon cream sauce with portobello mushrooms and Vidalia onions served over a bed of fluffy quinoa. A side of steamed asparagus rounded out the meal and it really was good. I’m continuing to lose weight gradually and even if it’s just a few ounces, every day has been a new low. Noom has been so easy for me to follow and I’ve learned a lot about the psychology of why I overeat.

I’m an emotional eater and I’m an instant gratification girl. Dicey combo. I want what I want and I want it now. Usually I give up on diets and end up regaining all I’ve lost and then some. This time I really want to do things different. I’ve been reading devotionals about taking the hurry out of life. I’ve always been running on the treadmill of life. Oh, I can spend a considerable amount of time in retreat and chill. But my mind is going a hundred miles an hour so I miss a lot of the here and now.

Mindfulness is something I have to work on. Staying present always is a challenge. My ADHD and neurodiverse thinking makes it difficult sometimes. I will have to say, I’ve seen a big difference in my mental clarity since I started Noom, cut out preservatives and additives, and started drinking RYZE. I know “mushroom coffee” sounds really gross, doesn’t it? But I add a little milk, my sweetener of choice, and some of my homemade vanilla extract and it’s really, really good. It kind of tastes like a cafe mocha.

There are six varieties of mushrooms in RYZE, each with a different purpose. Cordyceps for sustained energy, Reishi for stress relief, Turkey Tail to protect the gut, Lion’s Mane for better focus, Shiitake to support immunity and King Trumpet to fight inflammation. Now, I do not know if Western Medicine would agree with these statements or not, but Eastern Medicine has been around a whole lot longer, and I say…if it doesn’t hurt me, I’ll try it to see if it works.

I’ve been drinking one, sometimes two cups of RYZE every morning when I get up and I have to admit, I am experiencing better mental clarity, word finding has improved, I definitely have more energy and stamina, and my joint pain has markedly decreased. So between that and losing weight with Noom, I’m feeling like a new woman.

I thrive on change. Mr. FixIt avoids change at every turn, so I’m learning how to navigate that while keeping our marriage happy and thriving. I cannot stand sitting and watching TV all day. That’s how I got into this overweight mess in the first place. So, I’m being more proactive in doing things I enjoy and that brings more topics of conversation into our days. And, I find when I’m up and doing things, we end up doing more active “together” stuff. This is all getting better with the relief Mr. FixIt is finding from his back pain. It’s hard to want to get up and do things when you are in pain.

I’ve found whatever I’m doing, it takes as long as it takes so I’m learning to be more gentle with myself. Having just turned 70 years old this week, you would think I’d have had this all worked out by now. But that’s the beauty of life…we never stop learning and we never stop growing as long as we work at it.

“Let the wise listen to these proverbs and become even wiser. Let those with understanding receive guidance by exploring the meaning in these proverbs and parables, the words of the wise and their riddles.”
Proverbs 1:5-6 NLT

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Life is Like the Ocean…It Goes Up and Down. True words.

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Another Tax Season Is In The Books!

Sat, 08 Apr 2023 08:11:24 -0600

Mr. FixIt got a closeup of our Dwarf Rhododendron! Good job, babe!

Whew! I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be finished. Even with all the work I did in advance, it still took me five days to do the taxes. Good golly! I was determined to get them done yesterday so I asked Mr. FixIt if he would mind making his world famous oats for breakfast so I could get to work. After breakfast, he left me to my own devices and went out to change a part on Louisa the Lincoln. The “Service Engine Soon” light has been on for a week. At first it said it was the gas cap so we got a new one. No change. Then it indicated the Mass Air Intake Sensor was faulty so we ordered a new one. I had to help a little because Mr. FixIt only has two hands.

The engine light stayed on, so we went to the auto parts store in our little village and had them connect it up to the computer reader again. She told us we fixed the mass air intake error, but it was still saying there was a faulty gas cap. We checked it and it was tight. The other error was for a faulty oxygen sensor. Mr. FixIt will figure out how to fix that. He knows how to do everything! He and Mr. YouTube!

On our way back from town, he asked if I’d like to go to the little pizza joint at the edge of Parkersburg to get some supper. He knows how many times I have cleaned that kitchen this week and he knew I was ready for a break. I jumped at the chance and we went to Pete’s Pizza. Someone told us they make excellent hot sub sandwiches. They were very tasty. Pete’s has wing nights once a week so we may have to try that some time.

We took the long way home and checked out the flowering trees. They’re getting so pretty and people are mowing everywhere. I’m going to have to mow soon…at least the yard inside the fence. We need to give Mr. FixIt’s back a rest…he’s the bowling substitute on Sunday night. So I’ll probably do the push mower, too.

Just a couple more cool days and nights and the temperatures will start climbing as we head deeper into official spring. I’m so relieved to get winter behind us. As we drove back down our road last night, Mr. FixIt said he thought my pretty pink dogwood that he planted for me died. That made me sad. It really grew a lot the last three or four years. I’ll go out and check it today to see if there’s any hope. The peonies have shot up ten inches in two days! The underbrush in the woods is getting that beautiful bright spring green, but my redbud still has no blooms at all on them…not even buds. We did have some prolonged freezes this winter and its been hard on the vegetation

Still no word if my brother got moved yesterday, but I’m hoping for the best!

“Come on, let’s go back to God. He hurt us, but he’ll heal us. He hit us hard, but he’ll put us right again. In a couple of days we’ll feel better. By the third day he’ll have made us brand-new, Alive and on our feet, fit to face him. We’re ready to study God, eager for God-knowledge. As sure as dawn breaks, so sure is his daily arrival. He comes as rain comes, as spring rain refreshing the ground.”
Hosea 6:1-3 MSG

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Stir up something sweet for Grandma with this darling apron!

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Marshmallow Ranch is Back on Etsy!!!

Mon, 27 Mar 2023 01:30:00 -0600

It all started when I decided to leave the rat race of medicine and try to make a living from my own creativity. I dropped down to part time at the neurology office and started making art jewelry from antique silverware and maps. As a matter of fact some of you have been with me since the very beginning and can remember my little Etsy shop. When I lost Mr. Virgo, I tried to keep the shop going, but once I sold the Colorado house and hit the road in my camper I kinda lost my mojo.

Time passed and adventures came and I finally ended up on The Farm…the home of my heart. And I ran into Mr. FixIt…the holder of my heart. And now…its been ten years since Mr. Virgo’s passing and it’s time to turn a corner and do something wonderful and fresh and fun to take me through the NEXT ten years! The joy of my heart!

Marshmallow Ranch is back on Etsy once again!!!!!

It looks decidedly different than it did in the “old days”. My art is different. My skills are different. Shopping experiences are different. And most importantly…I AM DIFFERENT! What I am presenting to you today is a whole new vision that incorporates my art, my graphic design skills, my quirky sense of humor, and my desire to connect with people in ways I haven’t even thought of yet.

I’ve been working diligently on this project and I’m very happy with the way it turned out. I am offering ways for you to own my art…in the form of my photography, my compositions and graphic design elements, and my words…on clothing, accessories, shoes, tea towels, candles. From kitchen items all the way up to suitcases. I’ve combed over this time and again…and I’m sure there still are things that need to be tweaked a little here and there.

There is a button pinned on my Facebook page as well as one on the blog that will lead you right to the shop. It’s not quite as easy to head back to the blog, but the quickest way is to use the back arrow key on your browser page. If you find things that need fixing, please don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll fix it as soon as possible.

I hope you like the new shop. The category of listings is in the sidebar to the left. I will be adding things going forward…more home goods, clothing, and accessories as well as vintage items. And perhaps I’ll get back in the studio and make pretty things again with my hands one of these days. I hope you’ll keep me in mind for your shopping and gift-giving occasions!

And, as in all things…to God be the Glory!

Enjoy!!!

“…whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”
1 Corinthians 10:31 ESV

Valentines

Wed, 15 Feb 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt finished cutting in around the doors, the top, and the bottom of the walls yesterday. We were going to tag team and he took the first shift. We didn’t count on the handy edging gizmo to work so well and he was done in less than thirty minutes. I continued to work on this project. I’ve hit several stumbling blocks, but I think I’m back on track now. The learning curve is fierce. Or…maybe it’s my brain that’s not as spry as it used to be. Who knows?

After my sweetheart snoozed in his Big Red Chair, we decided to go to town for pizza as our Valentine’s Day celebration. We weren’t sure where to try. We’re disappointed with our usual place. And there are several in town that people rave over but we wouldn’t give them the time of day. Too expensive. Too greasy. Too dodgy. Finally, we settled on a tiny little hole in the wall over in Belpre called Smitty’s.

I have to tell you…my first little slice was unimpressive. But by the second….oh, yum! It wasn’t by any means my favorite pizza ever, but it was decidedly passable. We sat along the Ohio River overlooking the mansion on Blennerhassett Island. The water was like glass and reflected the sycamores and the grand manse with precision. We munched out on our Italian delight and enjoyed the peace and quiet along with four or five other cars with folks doing the same thing.

Afterwards, we went to the Kroger store and bought a cake. Not just any cake. A Black and White cake like the one the kids brought Mr. FixIt for his birthday. This cake is so delicious, I’m hard pressed as to which side I like the best. The chocolate doesn’t seem to make my tummy hurt like eating chocolate candy so I get the same flavor. I think we should cut it up in slices and freeze some of it so we don’t just finish it of as fast as we can. It’s that good.

We came on home and enjoyed our evening together. We are each other’s best valentine! Mr. FixIt picked up the kraft paper that was taped down in the hallway. Thank GOODNESS! Have you ever seen a video of a cat with a piece of scotch tape stuck to her paw? She’ll jerk around trying to shake that off…tiptoeing and prancing around like crazy. That’s what we’ve been doing walking on that crackly kraft paper for the last several days. I’m SO glad it’s gone now!

We have to start doing more projects now. Today’s high is supposed to be 73°! We’re going to uncover the Big Birdhouse and get her set up and cleaned so we can advertise her for sale this week. Same with Joy, the ‘67 Franklin. They both have to go to new homes. Our list is long and our time is short. Not the best recipe for success…but succeed, we shall!

“Oh! Teach us to live well! Teach us to live wisely and well! Come back, God—how long do we have to wait?— and treat your servants with kindness for a change. Surprise us with love at daybreak; then we’ll skip and dance all the day long. Make up for the bad times with some good times; we’ve seen enough evil to last a lifetime. Let your servants see what you’re best at— the ways you rule and bless your children. And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do!”
Psalms 90:12-17 MSG

Organization is NOT in My Skill Set

Wed, 18 Jan 2023 02:30:00 -0600

I’m making lists and checking them a zillion times. I’m heading down rabbit holes when I really need to be concentrating. I’m going to have to treat this project like a job and have set hours to work on it or it’s never going to happen. It’s not happening sitting in the living room in the Big Red Chair with Mr. FixIt watching TV. I have a desk set up in the basement so I can sit there and work. Then, when I’ve finished the hours I will set aside to be productive, I can work on the quilt and other fun projects. I’m determined to do this because when it’s set up, I think it’s going to be fun!

When we went into town on Monday, my Aunt Rosie was weighing heavy on my heart. That made me think of the only aunt still living on my dad’s side. Even though she and I have been estranged for many years (not my choice), the hurt in the relationship still haunts me and I wonder about her. I found out through Find-a-Grave a few years ago that her husband, my dad’s baby brother, had passed away. His listing showed his headstone and where it was located. My aunt’s name and birth year were inscribed on the joint headstone.

Since I have no connection with her now, and since they are very private people, I asked Mr. FixIt if he would mind if we go up to the cemetery to see if there was a new grave. There was not, but she has the most beautiful view from up there. She always told me she was going to be buried on top of the world, and that’s just about what it looks like. Then I remembered my in-laws from my first marriage are buried nearby, so we went off looking for them.

I have never been to their gravesite. I always thought they were buried in the cemetery by the park, but it turns out they’re at the cemetery we were in. It took some doing but we finally found them. I’ve never thought much about visiting cemeteries. I’ve done my share, but it feels different the older I get. It’s a reminder that I’ll be changing addresses at some point down the road and the directions are getting clearer.

What is it Robert Frost said in his epic poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening… “I have miles to go before I sleep.” Mr. Virgo thought he had miles to go and we know how that worked out. The thing is, there’s no guarantee this project will ever be completed. But, the pleasure is in the progress…not the destination. It’s the same with everything in life. It’s the journey. The journey is everything.

“The people of Judah came to Joshua at Gilgal. Caleb son of Jephunneh the Kenizzite spoke: “You’ll remember what God said to Moses the man of God concerning you and me back at Kadesh Barnea. I was forty years old when Moses the servant of God sent me from Kadesh Barnea to spy out the land. And I brought back an honest and accurate report. My companions who went with me discouraged the people, but I stuck to my guns, totally with God, my God. That was the day that Moses solemnly promised, ‘The land on which your feet have walked will be your inheritance, you and your children’s, forever. Yes, you have lived totally for God.’ Now look at me: God has kept me alive, as he promised. It is now forty-five years since God spoke this word to Moses, years in which Israel wandered in the wilderness. And here I am today, eighty-five years old! I’m as strong as I was the day Moses sent me out. I’m as strong as ever in battle, whether coming or going. So give me this hill country that God promised me. You yourself heard the report, that the Anakim were there with their great fortress cities. If God goes with me, I will drive them out, just as God said.””
Joshua 14:6-12 MSG

Eat the Cake!

Wed, 28 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

“Here’s the link to Homemade Chocolate Cake...Grandma Lois’ recipe.”

The other night…I had a dream. I don’t dream all that often. Perhaps more precisely…I don’t remember my dreams. This one was really vivid and clear. I was attending an event honoring Queen Elizabeth. It was jam packed with people…dressed to the nines. All pomp and circumstance, as an event honoring Royalty would be.

I was seated at a long table. It was formally set with fine china, silver, crystal and lovely flower centerpieces. I hadn’t noticed anyone I really recognized till I saw the woman seated directly across from me. It was Oprah! Oh, I was so excited to get to meet her…I’ve always wanted to. At that moment, the service staff brought everyone a lovely slice of triple layer chocolate cake!

Everyone beamed, picked up their forks, and took that first delicious bite…swooning at the decadent dessert. I looked over at Oprah, and with a tinge of sadness in my voice, I said… “I picked a heck of a day to quit sweets, didn’t I?”

Oprah looked at me incredulously. Our eyes locked.

“Eat the cake.”

I looked down at this amazing, rich, slice of heaven and wondered if I should. I was feeling pretty porky lately. I’d made a promise to myself. I had not willpower anyway…why not just keep going?

I looked back up and Oprah was still watching me. Her face softened. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Just eat the cake.”

So I did. And it was divine! The world didn’t end and neither did I.

There’s a difference between being healthy and being deprived. Life is short and unpredictable. We don’t know when the end will come…so eat the cake. “Eating cake” can be interpreted in much more than consuming a pastry. Do the things you’ve wanted to do. Dance. Sing. Draw. Read. Nap. Write. Swim. Bike. Cook. Meditate. Knit. Paint. Sew. Walk. Garden. Work. Hike. Listen. Speak. Stand. Sit. Run. And, pray.

Pray always and without ceasing.

Live every day of your life.

Live EVERY day of your life.

LIVE every day of your life!

Just LIVE.

“Oh! Teach us to live well! Teach us to live wisely and well!
Psalm 90:12 MSG

Go With the Flow

Fri, 02 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I used to think that “go with the flow” meant to be flexible…to have the ability to change on a dime and head in a different direction. That’s part of it, to be sure. But, I think it’s much more than just adapting to change. I think there is a current in life. A current of energies. Light and dark. And, I think we can plug into one or the other cognitively…purposefully.

When I am in tune with God’s will, I’m surfing the flow of light energy. It’s where enlightenment lives. It’s where intuition is like a gong being struck by the mighty hammer of the Holy Spirit. He doesn’t always show up in whispers. Sometimes He knocks you up the side of the head to get your attention and speaks in a loud voice.

I can always tell when I’m even two degrees off course. I get foggy, lazy…tempted. Tempted to overeat, oversleep, overspend. It’s not a good direction to take and I know from past experience, it doesn’t lead anywhere I am interested in going. So, I make corrections in my path. I put God first and foremost in front of me and keep Him in the center of everything.

I know when I am in “The Flow.” It’s when things are easier…lighter. It just feels like there’s a higher energy to everything. When it’s there and unmistakable, it’s a high like no other. However, what happens when you feel like you aren’t going in the direction you need to go and you can’t seem to change course? Those are really difficult times to go through and it’s easy to get down on yourself.

I’ve learned a lot of lessons in my nearly seventy years. Probably the most important lesson I’ve ever learned is to show myself some compassion. We are often quick to offer compassion and empathy to others when they are struggling, but we hang ourselves out to dry on a regular basis. We can be so mean and ugly to ourselves when we aren’t getting it right.

It really helps to know NO ONE gets it right. Oh, we can have fleeting episodes of what feels like greatness, but sustained “rightness” is next to impossible to attain. Showing some gentle compassion and forgiveness is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. To say, “I may have botched this one up, but that’s ok. Everyone messes up at one time or another and this just wasn’t my day. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

That’s an honorable way to live. To admit we aren’t perfect and neither is anyone else. When we can humbly admit our own faults, it allows us to take the log out of our own eye in order to help our neighbors with the speck in theirs. I think a lot of people have become confused. They’ve been convinced that their way is the ONLY way and that if others do not live their way, or believe their way, or look their way then they’re wrong. Bad. Evil.

This kind of thinking is separating us and I truly believe it has been done by design. There are foreign powers who are taking an entirely different approach to war. They’ve discovered how to create an environment of infighting that is creating havoc in the world. Intentionally. They know…without a shadow of a doubt…that divided we will fall and they don’t have to fire a shot to defeat us.

The enemy comes in myriad forms and he wants nothing more that to create chaos and hatred toward our fellow man. Then he sits back and laughs and watches us implode. We can change the world by changing our little corner of it. We can get back into the flow of goodness and light and beat back the darkness that threatens to overpower us. We just have to have the right ammunition. And what is that ammo, you ask?

Love.

The Bible tells us to love our enemies. It tells us to judge not lest we be judged. It says we need to love others as we love ourselves. Always, always, always it says to love. LOVE. Even when you don’t want to. Even when it seems impossible to. When I was going through a terribly painful divorce, I spent an inordinate amount of time sending daggers towards Hubby #2. I had hate in my heart and anger. SO much anger.

In the Netflix documentary, Stutz, Jonah Hill’s therapist tells him to close his eyes and picture the entire expanse of the universe filled to the brim with nothing but love. Love everywhere…in every space…in every thought. Start gathering every bit of that love and shoving it deep in your heart till it’s bursting at the seams. Then, concentrate on your “enemy” and shoot every ounce of that love straight into the heart of the one you’re hating on.

I practiced this when I got tired of getting sick from the poison I was trying to send to my ex. I started praying deeply and fervently for him. My prayers changed from “Lord, remove this burden of hate from me” to “Lord, I’m sending every ounce of love I have to this man. Please fill him with love and success and health and good fortune. Let him be happy….truly, truly happy.”

The results weren’t instantaneous. But before long, things started happening. I didn’t feel hatred toward him anymore. I felt compassion. I found I was the one becoming happy. And I found myself back to being in the flow with a current of light and positivity. We have to make course corrections all the time in this life. That’s how we grow and evolve. And without that, we cannot move forward and heal and neither will anyone else.

In order to heal others, we have to heal ourselves.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones.”
Proverbs 3:5-8 ESV

Life’s Cycles

Tue, 29 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I’m sliding into seventy years on this earth. That’s a monumental milestone that is looming in my not to distant future. Six and a half months, to be exact. And, like I’ve done every other time I face a milestone, I’ve been getting quiet and introspective. In that introspection, I’ve been feeling a new awakening. A momentary clarity that shakes things up and makes me think…makes me ask questions.

Am I being true to myself?

Am I on my path?

Will I complete my purpose in the short time I have left?

I mean, let’s be honest here…I have a lot more years behind me than I have in front. The end doesn’t scare me necessarily. I’m not in a hurry for it to get here, by any means…but, I’m not afraid. If there is any fear at all, it’s that I won’t finish what I came here to do….whatever that is.

I haven’t read much since Mr. Virgo died. I read the Bible. I read short stories like the news and current events and feel good things. But to sit down and read a book cover-to-cover…I haven’t done that in years. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have the patience, or if I’m afraid of what I’ll discover about myself. Whatever it is, books…other people’s writings…haven’t really held my interest for a long time.

I have a dear friend starting her third year of widowhood. She’s just heading into that year of self-discovery…of great personal growth…of figuring a lot of things out. I marvel her tenacity and strength. She’s a lot younger than I was at her point on the road. We were talking a couple of weeks ago. She went on a sabbatical in the desert southwest and took every tool she had with her. She told me she discovered a book that shook her to her core and I really needed to read it.

It’s a collection of lessons from many of today’s notable figures from various schools of thought…curated by Oprah Winfrey. People seem to either love Oprah or…not. Personally, I love her. I love her insights in the human condition. She asks the questions that interest me. She is well spoken, well educated, and has experienced enough hard knocks in life to soften her edges. I appreciate her for the work she does in the world. So, I ordered the book.

The Path Made Clear takes the reader into a series of “rooms” where sets of life lessons are presented. Each room covers a point on the path we all must walk in this life…from the “Seeds” of our early awakening to coming “Home.” I’ve been savoring it slowly, like someone sipping a 50 year old scotch…letting the richness and fullness of the spirit wash through me. It’s the first book I’ve been able to fully absorb and I’m loving it.

I feel as though my spirit has been dormant for a while…like I needed a break from “seeking” anything deeper than mowing the lawn and baking sourdough. My psyche needed a break…a place of rest that I have found with my dear Mr. FixIt. I’m feeling the stirrings of growth again. It’s hard to explain but it feels like a new phase of healing. I lost one of my dearest friends in the world on December 13th of last year. Maybe I’m just coming out of another fog of grief. Whatever it is, it seems ripe with potential.

We are faced with an entire week with nothing more on the schedule than the internet guy coming on Friday to check our service. I spent the day yesterday reading quietly with my headphones on, listening to a crackling fireplace. I took a break in the afternoon and made a couple of homemade turkey pot pies that are SO delicious. I knitted a little…I need to get this sweater completed so I can get back to the wedding quilt. I placed an order for some Christmas gifts. I’m sleeping better and eating better. I’m just….happy and content to see what’s coming our way as my sixties slip through the hourglass.

I feel hopeful and that’s a lovely place to be.

“They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life.”
1 Timothy 6:18-19 ESV

Telling My Story

Fri, 18 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I fiddled around at the farm yesterday morning. I packed up my things to head home. I went down and looked at the hot water heater. We turned it off when we had trouble with the pump on the well last year and hadn’t gotten around to relighting it. I thought If I fired it up, it would keep the basement fairly warm should the electric go out for any length of time this winter. Unfortunately, when I started it up, I noticed the exhaust pipe wasn’t drawing…I could feel the air blowing back into the room. Something you definitely DON’T want. So, I turned it off and tried to check out the pipe to see if a bird had made a nest. I didn’t have a flashlight, and the one on my phone wasn’t powerful enough to get a deep enough look. I put it all back together and left it off till I can get Mr. FixIt out there with me to help. It entails getting up on a ladder and I didn’t want to climb too high without a spotter.

I fixed a cup of tea and took my knitting to the chair by the window. One of my dear friends is a widow of two years and change. We’ve been promising a phone call so yesterday was the day. I dialed her number, picked up my knitting, and kicked back for what is always a stimulating conversation. I love that I can be a sounding board for others coming up the path behind me. I reach back with my experience and my listening ears. I’ve learned not to dominate the conversation with my own stories because that’s not what a new widow necessarily needs. She needs to know she’s not crazy, that others have gone through the same or similar things, and that there is a path through this $***show of grief.

The other day, I shared a post with a quote by Susan David, PhD. I used it in the context of posts and comments on social media. “You may be right…but is your response serving you?” Like I said in the post, that can be used in a myriad of circumstances. I used it with my friend yesterday, substituting a couple of words.

You may be telling your story…but is your story serving you?

I read an article this week about “trauma dumping”…oversharing your experiences and pain with others without their consent, thus causing them pain and discomfort. We both decided we really don’t like it when people make up names for things because grieving is hard enough without piling on guilt and shame over your coping strategies. I remember when I first started this blog. I told you all what happened to Mr. Virgo and that I was going on a journey. I told you I would share what I was going through, that I would speak from my heart, and that sometimes it was going to be downright ugly and painful and you could follow along or not. Either way, this was something I needed to do…primarily for me, but also for those who shared this wretched journey with their own grief.

I know that I share a lot here. I am vulnerable and I let you in deep. That’s because I know you more than likely have experienced great grief in your life and can relate. And if you haven’t, you will. Either way, having someone tell you they’re going through some things that you are experiencing can be validating and comforting.

That being said, I’ve noticed something recently. When I meet someone who doesn’t know me, the topic always comes around to “What do you do?” When I tell them I am a writer and write a blog, the next question is usually…”What do you write about?” This is when I make a decision. My answer is either a complete rendition of the Mr. Virgo story complete with running into Mr. FixIt and getting married. Or, I tell them I write about grief and life and love and anything my little heart desires. I’m a storyteller.

You see, I’ve noticed in the last year when I tell the full story, I get a trigger…a trauma response…right in the pit of my stomach and I actually feel physically ill. I can tell bits and pieces of it fine. But the whole shebang doesn’t need to be rehashed all the time. It doesn’t serve me. If it doesn’t serve me, it’s not going to serve anyone else either because it won’t be authentic.

That doesn’t mean I won’t visit grief, or…more accurately…that it won’t visit me. It doesn’t mean I won’t write about it from time to time. It just means that it isn’t the center of who I am anymore. It’s a true testimony to this core truth…you don’t “get over” grief, you get “through” it.

My friend is doing an excellent job. She is taking a year off and finding herself…exactly what I did the third year. That was my year of tremendous personal growth….a real turning point in my journey. She and I will touch base again somewhere down the road and we’ll share how gobsmacked we are at how absolutely crazy this whole thing is.

That’s the kind of friends we are.

“for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,”
Romans 3:23 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

Rough Nights and Great Days

Wed, 19 Oct 2022 01:30:00 -0600

The first few years of my grief journey were filled with really rough nights and marginal days. There were nights I held the side of the mattress and willed myself to make it to morning with my sanity held somewhere near intact. It was so incredibly difficult, but then morning would come and the anxiety and fear would fade into the background a bit…only to return with a vengeance at sundown.

With time…and hard work…the really hard nights became bad nights and the days became better. The really hard nights faded eventually and I only had a bad night on occasion. Monday was one of those nights. The day had been stressful then just before bed, I found out someone I love dearly was unwell. And I ate too late. Bad combo and I just didn’t feel well.

I woke up yesterday with a massive headache and a stuffy head and I was afraid I’d picked up “a bug”, but…with a little movement and a little caffeine, I shoved the icky aside and moved on with my day. Mr. FixIt and I went out to the farm to make sure the heat was turned on and the pump was working. Last year the pump froze and it was an absolute mess to fix. We wanted to preempt that scenario by wrapping the pump and tank in heat tape to keep it from freezing.

I lit the little gas stove in the bathroom to keep the pipes from freezing in there. And the furnace was already on so the house was perfectly warm. I turned off the dehumidifiers for the season, swept the floors, checked the mail, and we’re all good. I’ll get out there for a little R&R one of these days.

We got home in late afternoon. The sun sets earlier and earlier now. And it’s pretty darned chilly. I decided to open a jar of the vegetable beef soup I canned this year. I purposefully canned it rather bland so I could season it to my liking when I heat it up. I added a variety of seasonings, including just a dash of smoked chipotle pepper for a little zing. Oh, my gosh! It was SO good served with garlic Texas toast!

We have an errand in town today and I am certainly hoping it won’t turn into an all day ordeal. We may get our Covid booster while we’re at it.

We’re a good team.

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works,”
Hebrews 10:24 ESV

A Sweet and Snuggly Sunday

Mon, 03 Oct 2022 01:30:00 -0600

The latest issue of Girl Camper Magazine arrived last week! You can subcribe to this beautiful award-winning magazine >>> here <<<

We went to our eldest great-grandchild’s birthday party at the skating rink yesterday. What a hoot! There were a whole bunch of littles there and more kids were just running around chasing each other on the skate floor than were actually skating. That’s because they were five. They could move a lot faster without wheels!

There were a couple of prepubescent boys there, obviously trying out skates for the first time. Mr. FixIt watched them, then share with me his “first time skating” story. It was a date with a girl. She asked him to go skating with her and he told he he’d never been on skates in his life. She assured him it was really easy and he’d do great.

He didn’t.

He fell…a lot! It was no time till she left him sitting there out of embarrassment. Pretty soon, a mutual friend of ours came along and asked him if he needed some help. She managed to help him up, and with a lot of support and laughter, it wasn’t too long till he was able to make it around the rink. The girl’s boyfriend was made because she had her arm around another guy. And Mr. FixIt’s girlfriend was mad because he was hanging out onto another girl. That was the last time he went out with that girl. Unfortunately, our friend went on to marry the other fellow and other than her beautiful children, it didn’t end happily I’m afraid.

When we got home, I warmed up some chili and afterwards I took a nap under the electric blanket. What a wonderful treat that was!

My step-daughter called me last evening just to tell me how nice I looked yesterday and that she loved my outfit and my hair. What a sweet thing to say. It made me feel all warm and cheesy inside, as Daughter #2 used to say. We had a long conversation about the decisions we’ve made in life and how we wish we could go back and do some things differently.

I told her I didn’t. I wouldn’t be the person I am today, doing what I’m doing, married to the sweetest guy on the planet if I’d made one different choice. Any one thing would have sent me down an entirely different path than the one I chose and the results would have been entirely different. Would things have been better? Who knows? Maybe they would have been worse…far worse.

You know who knew what my path should be? God. God set me on a path and He gave me free will and asked me to use it. He asked me love as He loves. He asked me to turn the other cheek. He asked lots and lots of things of me and ohhhhh, how I messed up. But He asked me to keep trying and that I did. And here we are.

Is my life perfect? It’s perfect for ME. God has given me a partner to work with, to love and be loved by, to grow and learn beside, and to share this ride with its many ups and downs. There is something to be said for contentment. To sit in a seat of comfort and joy is more than I deserve sometimes. And I don’t know how I merited my man, but I’m sure glad God led us together for this…the final act of our lives.

We got our flu shots yesterday afternoon. In a couple of weeks we’ll get our Covid booster. Today I go to get the title work done on the camper at the DMV. I’ll take my knitting. We’ll seal the underside of the wheel wells to try to keep water out of the area under the sink. Then we head out camping again on Wednesday. Ohhhhh…it’s going to get cold later this week! The low on Friday night is predicted to be 36°! If it doesn’t warm up the last couple of weeks in October, this just might be the last trip of the year.

When you put the camper away, that means summer is officially over. Fortunately, I can still enjoy it all winter here on our property. Just not as often. On the warmer days, I can sneak out and read, write, or knit. On the colder, snowier days, I can snuggle under the electric blanket and take a nap. I’ll be able to make a cup of tea and stare out the windows. I love that I don’t have to haul her somewhere and leave her there till spring.

Indeed…I am so very blessed.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”
James 1:17 ESV

Centering with Mindfulness

Tue, 12 Jul 2022 01:30:00 -0600

All done except for the plackets, buttons and buttonholes, and weaving the ends!

When I’m riding the tractor, my mind wanders from topic to topic. I try to be mindful and present and actually…you know…mow. With all the feelings and smells and sounds and techniques that come with that. Sometime’s I’m successful at that. Other times…not so much. Yesterday was one of those days. I did manage to keep in the moment when I was mowing the little tiny rises along the road and out by the circular drive because the grass was still a little damp and the tires on this tractor can get a little slippery. But as soon as I had that done, I was off somewhere else.

You and I have talked a lot here about anxiety and depression and grief and PTSD. I’ve been doing a lot better with those since I had the second parathyroid surgery and my calcium has come back down into the normal range. I’ve used so many things over my lifetime to try to calm my poor brain…lots of prayer, therapy, medication, EMDR, meditation, exercise, diet, better sleep hygiene. Overall, it’s much better. But, from time to time, it still rears its ugly head and it is so disheartening. I know it’s not something I’m liable to be rid of completely, but I am always looking for something that will help.

Because of the nature of my writing, anytime I use a hashtag on my blog on Facebook, I start seeing sponsored ads for things. Usually I just scroll by and pay them no mind. But, yesterday’s gave me pause and I paid attention. My particular flavor of anxiety is usually anticipatory…usually surrounding an event that’s coming up and my mind takes me in every possible direction trying to plan it all out so I am not surprised by anything. I hop from one unlikely scenario to another till my palms are sweaty and my neck is tight. My tummy gets tied up in knots and my breathing picks up. It’s crazy…absolutely crazy.

The human mind is an amazing computer that prepares us for anything. The second you feel threatened, it sends out a great big dose of cortisol and adrenalin to get you ready to either stay and fight or run away as fast as your little legs can carry you. But here’s something I didn’t know…and I learned it yesterday. When we have that particular variety of anxiety, we have trained out brains to be on guard at all times…to scout out danger and let the brain and body know right away…whether there is something actually happening in real time or if it’s just something you thought up in your little monkey brain. It sucks.

But, here’s the good news. Just like you trained your brain to look for danger, you can also train it to look for the light and the good stuff. What a concept! This new app…Mood Mint…gives you little two minute exercises. It shows you four pictures and you look for and choose the happy picture…the good-for-you picture. Like three of the faces may be grumpy or judgy and the fourth is a person smiling. Or maybe it’s faces and fatty foods or exercising. Good for you things. The goal is to select as many of the happy images as you can in a certain about of time. Then it gives you a point to ponder some mental health tip and you’re reading it while you are priming your brain to “happy”. Then you go back to more photo choices. The next thing is word search puzzle with four absolutely positive words to think about as you repeat it in your head because you’re actively searching for it. Once you solve that puzzle, if there is still time, you get more photos to choose from. The last thing is a guided inhale and exhale. The whole thing is fast and easy and they suggest you do at least ten minutes of these every day. Ostensibly, in a couple of weeks, you have retrained your brain to stop looking for threats everywhere you go.

I used the app three times yesterday. And I have to tell you, I don’t know if it was the power of suggestion or placebo effect, but I did feel less anxious. We are leaving for a road trip to pick up Little this week and, while I absolutely adore that child, I worry about all the what-ifs that could happen on my watch. Sorry…it’s just how my brain is wired. And it takes a crap-ton of the delicious anticipation and fun out of it for me when I’m fighting to ward off anxiety. The app cost a couple of bucks, and I’m hoping it might be a good tool to have in my mental health tool box.

I have to add in here…God uses the bad things that happen to us and turns them around for our good and for His glory. Heaven knows the last couple of years have been really difficult with the pandemic and all the upheaval in the world. One of the only good things I’ve seen that has come out of that is an embrace of mental health issues. We are having the conversations we should have been having for decades. I see evidence of people perhaps being less ostracized for their mental health struggles because, let’s face it…it’s a lot more mainstream now.

Change can be hard to come by…but it can be really good for us all. Let’s keep our minds open for changes. We cannot all have everything we want…but we can meet in the middle and that’s worth working for.

“for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
2 Timothy 1:7 ESV

Quit “Fixing” and Start Living

Tue, 26 Apr 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Flowering Quince on the creekbank at the farm.

I am all about personal growth. I needed it desperately…several times in my life. Each time the opportunity presented itself, I came out a better version of myself. After my first divorce, it was honestly all I could do to be a better mom and get through my days. Hubby #1 moved back to WV after we separated so he could go to college. I stayed on in Denver, raising Daughter #1 and working. I really didn’t have much time to think about personal growth. I wouldn’t have known what that meant anyway.

One of my biggest seasons of personal growth came after divorce #2. I felt like such a failure. I was forty-seven years old. Daughter #1 was grown and married and lived clear across the country. Daughter #2 was just 10. I did a lot of work in the five years after that divorce and it was really, really hard. I tried dating, but I wasn’t very good at that, either. I opened my needlework shop, I had an excellent therapist, and I learned to say no. I learned about boundaries…something the adult child of an alcoholic knows so little about. I learned about co-dependency and how badly I didn’t want that in my life anymore.

Right around the time I decided being alone wasn’t such a bad thing…in walked Mr. Virgo. A whirlwind romance ensued and soon we were walking the streets of Aspen, rubbing elbows with the beautiful people and enjoying fine dining and lots of fun. We moved around the state to new work opportunities. We lived a beautiful life.

Then he died.

While that was the most painful experience I’d had up until then, I did…once again…achieve a great deal of personal growth. I don’t think I had to work at it as hard as I did after the divorce. A lot of the tools for coping were the same.

Try as I might, I always had a hard time getting past this feeling like there was something wrong with me. I didn’t seem to think the same way as most people. I didn’t learn the same way or work the same way. I’ve since learned that I am probably neurodivergent…meaning, maybe I’m a little autistic…a little different…a little ADHD.

And that’s OK.

A lot of people fall into the category of neurodivergent and they live perfectly normal lives. They function, they cope, they adapt, they mask. They get by.

Yesterday morning, I was laying in bed thinking about the one characteristic I have that trips me up far too often…far more than I usually admit. And that is…anxiety. Anxiety has been my constant, most unwelcome companion for as long as I can remember. I hate it. It makes me feel broken…abnormal…weird. You can’t keep asking people to wait up for you to get your act together so you can join in, because (you think) you can do that if you just work on “fixing this problem”.

What hit me yesterday morning was a brilliant flash of insight.

Maybe I was never broken. Maybe I was just planted in the wrong places. Mistaken. Misunderstood.

What if? What if I quit trying to FIX myself to fit better into other people’s expectations of me? What if I free myself of the obligation of trying to fit someone else’s notion of who or what I should be and just live my life? What would that look like?

Mr. FixIt has been my best mirror. He celebrates and encourages and lifts me up at every turn. We went out to the farm yesterday and mowed. Afterwards, we worked to try to fix the well pump. We spent several hours out there trying this and that. (I think we have it figured out…we just need to go to town to get some parts tomorrow.) Last night, I excused myself to go write this post and let Mr. FixIt watch his police shows. As I turned to walk up the steps to the kitchen, he called after me.

“You did good work today.”

I turned back to him with such a look of love.

“Thank you for telling me that, sweetheart. You did good work, too.”

We should always lift each other up. Offer encouragement. Show our gratitude. This tells me, more than anything, I’m ok. I’m doing good work. I’m loving well and living well. I am not broken or weird. I’m just me…delightfully and perfectly imperfect. There is a part of me that gets anxious. But it doesn’t kill me. It doesn’t last forever. And I’m learning that the part of the brain that gets anxious is the exact same part that gets excited. So, when I start getting the first tingles of anxiety, I tell myself I’m just excited and start naming all the things that I’m looking forward to doing.

It’s working better and better. I saw a psychiatrist for several years. He said two things that have always stuck with me.

“The goal of therapy is to get out of therapy.”

And…

“At some point, you just have to get out there and live your life.”

This is not to say we can’t benefit from seeking professional assistance with our mental health. I am so happy to see the conversations going on now regarding mental health. Maybe after the huge challenges we’ve all faced in the last two (six?) years, we can finally normalize mental health and get rid of some of the social stigma. Wouldn’t that be great?

Life is really a lot less complicated than what we make of it.

“for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
2 Timothy 1:7 ESV

Shame…the Center of the Onion

Fri, 18 Mar 2022 06:04:02 -0600

I’ve been in therapy a few times over the years to help me deal with some of the more difficult struggles in life. It’s nothing I am ashamed of. As a matter of fact, I’m convinced I am sitting here writing to you from my snuggly camper simply because I chose vulnerability over pain.

It’s not easy to open yourself up and dig deep inside. You find things lurking in there you forgot you ever experienced. From memories of early childhood sexual abuse to an emotionally abusive alcoholic father to the many men I went through trying to find my father’s love, I stuffed a whole lot of garbage down a drain. But, like all drains…eventually that thing is going to back up on you and it ain’t gonna be pretty.

I’ve struggled to understand my emotions all my life. Being vulnerable here has been one of the scariest yet most liberating things I’ve ever done. One of the hardest, sharpest, deepest, most painful, terribly destructive emotions I’ve ever dealt with was shame. My father’s MO was blame and shame. I can still see him standing in front of me with his disapproving glare. He had a thumb that clicked when he moved it. He would flex it so I would be sure to notice his fist was clenched.

Mr. FixIt had to go to town yesterday so after I did some spring cleaning, I browsed through YouTube videos as I knitted. I stumbled upon a TED talk Brené Brown did after her breakthrough/breakdown/spiritual awakening where she talks about shame. Whenever I sit down to watch something like this, I automatically take a physical and emotional inventory. It comes from having so much therapy…this self awareness. It helps me untangle what is going on when I work on something.

As soon as Brené said the word “shame” I felt my gut tighten. I could feel the word in my chest. Stabbing, unwelcome emotions perked up their pointy little ears and sat at attention…wondering how I was going to deal with this. I’ve learned a lot about shame and how it is at the core of depression, anxiety, overeating, and addiction. I’ve learned to feel the wave of the emotion, understand where it came from, forgive the perpetrator, forgive myself, and let it slide on down the river.

Shame was at the center of my onion. It was only visible when I peeled back every other layer of my psyche. When it was exposed, I could plainly see how it had predicated my every move. It was the hardest thing I ever worked on. When I was waking up in the ER after my overdose and I realized what I had done, I began weeping uncontrollably and repeating, “I’m so ashamed…I’m so ashamed.” The nurse, God bless her, stopped what she was doing, wrapped her arms around me, and comforted me saying, “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Your heart is broken. Your mind isn’t feeling well. Would you be ashamed if you broke your arm? Or had appendicitis? Of course you wouldn’t. This is no different. You just need to heal this hurt place.” I loved her for that.

I sat there and rewound that twenty minute talk and listened to it no less than four times…each time letting Brené’s words wash over me and soothe that sore place that still sits with my inner child. You can watch this video HERE.

I thought I would leave you today with some images from the farm. There weren’t any spring flowers out yet…I’ll try again next week. It’s still lovely, nonetheless. Till tomorrow…

“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.”

Jeremiah 17:14 ESV

#Shame, #Vulnerability, #Growth, #Healing

The First Step

Sat, 12 Mar 2022 02:30:00 -0600

There is a wise saying… “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” There is so much truth in that, whether it is literal or figurative. Nine years ago, Mr. Virgo died unexpectedly and I was sent on a journey. And, while I didn’t ask for it, the journey has not been without value. My husband didn’t need to die so that I could learn these lessons and not everything happens for a reason. Good things and crappy things coexist in life all the time. It is the nature of the beast. While my husband died and I felt unbelievable grief, I also learned so much about myself and attained great personal growth.

As I sat and knitted quietly yesterday, I thought of Mr. Virgo and our relatively short time together. He was hardworking, gifted, intelligent, fun, and handsome. He taught me so much. He put to rest a lot of my issues of abandonment. He showed me I was worthy and beautiful and talented. He carried my heart on a velvet pillow and I felt the same about him. We were a mutual admiration society.

I took a photo of the progress I’m making on the shawl I’m knitting. As I prepared it for today’s post, I noticed the thread dangling from the middle. This pattern began with a single stitch. Then three, then seven, and eventually it grew and grew as I carefully added stitches evenly across the rows. This shawl has come into my life at exactly the right time. It is showing me how, with perseverance and determination, taking one step at a time moves you forward and creates something beautiful. Each stitch has been saturated with prayers…for widows around the world, new and old. For health and happiness. For peace and prosperity. For hope. And for love.

One little stitch. One little step at a time. A new life has been created and my phoenix rose from the ashes of my grief. God has been with me every step of the way. Carrying me along when I needed it. Dragging my butt, kicking and screaming sometimes. I would never have believed I’d be where I am today…happy, healthy, secure…married to my best friend from high school. Mr. Virgo’s life was not lived in vain. He accomplished so much in his 62 years. And he left me with what I needed to build the life I think he somehow knew I’d be pressed upon to lead.

That morning, we went to Grand Junction, and as we stood in the fourth camper…he suffered a massive heart attack. He made it to the hospital and, after hours of working diligently on his failing heart, they quietly let him go in peace. Another year gone…another year with God. I would never wish Mr. Virgo away from that complete joy. I can recite the events of that day, and I know they were horrifying. However, I cannot feel the feelings that went along with that unless I dive down into the quagmire…something I long ago learned does not serve me well. I think of him often…not with tears anymore, but with fondness and gratitude and love.

Mr. Virgo 1950-2013

“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.”
1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 ESV

Moving Forward After Loss

Thu, 27 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

My son-in-law’s mom sent me an article yesterday. Published in the Times of London, the article…”My husband walked out. This is what heartbreak did to my body” follows Florence Williams, a journalist and author, as she struggles after divorce. Williams was struck with Type I Diabetes in the year after her husband left her. It was her first experience with heartbreak and, being a scientific writer, she looked for a scientific solution. The two years following her divorce became a kind of experiment where she tried all manner of solutions to ease her grief.

It has been known for quite some time that grief and heartbreak can cause physiological changes in the body and not just emotional ones. Broken Heart Syndrome is an actual physiological response to stressful situations and extreme emotional distress. Williams went to see Steve Cole at UCLA. He specializes in a field called “psychoneuroimmunology” which studies the effect your mental state has on your immunity. Cole tested Florence for stress markers in her blood and found she was in the red zone for risk of developing serious illness.

With a laundry list of possible “cures”, Williams set out to try to heal her broken heart scientifically. She did everything from EMDR to meditation to a solo kayak trip in the wilderness only to find her numbers didn’t improve. At around the two year mark, she tried hallucinogenics in a controlled therapeutic setting and through that experience, gained some clarity in where she sits in the grand scheme of things. Her stress numbers began to come down at that point.

Now, whether the improvement came from the hallucinogenics or the tincture of time, I don’t know. I do know in my own personal experience my first year was bad, my second year was brutal, and my third year became my breakout year of personal growth and finding myself. I have several friends in different places in their widow journey. They are anywhere on the spectrum from starting new relationships to vowing never to go down that path again.

The bottom line is, there is no right or wrong way to grieve..there is only your way. There isn’t a magic formula that miraculously relieves heartache. But, who knows? Maybe scientists will find a way to watch your stress numbers, then watch what you’re doing, and when it works tell you to do more of that. For me, it seems more logical to follow some pretty basic advice I was given.

Take your time after heartbreak before you jump into something else…a major move, a new relationship, a different job. That feel good rush may not last long and then you’re left ripping off the bandaid revealing a gaping wound.
Eat right, drink plenty of water, exercise, and get enough rest.
Go outside and immerse yourself in nature as much as possible. Trees and sunshine heal.
Don’t make huge financial decisions in the first year or two.
Avoid alcohol and drugs.
Work for balance…emotional, physical, and spiritual.
It’s ok to say no without explanation.
Be gentle with yourself when you need to.
Kick yourself in the butt when you need to.
Always remember, you aren’t alone. Be sure you have a support system set up with family, friends, clergy, therapist…whoever can help when the going gets tough. God is always available…24/7/365.

You can read the entire article HERE. https://apple.news/AP5fPBbk-QKWTOwa73jk11w

❄️?❄️

“The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time. For the Lord protects the bones of the righteous; not one of them is broken!”
Psalms 34:17-20 NLT

Camping: Round Two

Wed, 29 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I was totally prepared to sleep in the camper on Monday night. I was all settled in with my electric blanket and my writing implements. I listened to the rain on the roof and all was right with the world. Then…at 11:30, my phone rang. The caller ID said RoboCall so I didn’t pick up. There was a voicemail and it turned out to be the electric company. Earlier in the evening when it was raining hard, there was a flicker in the electric. The microwave clock reset and beeped when the power came back on. I didn’t think anything of it. This happens all the time in the country. We have an ancient power grid that they are constantly working on to upgrade. Anyway, the message said that sometime between 12:30 and 3:30am the power would be off for an emergency repair.

Seeing as how I was in a camper and the only heat source I could use was electric, I packed up my little overnight bag and went back inside. Mr. FixIt and I have a fun routine where we watch comedy clips before we go to sleep every night. So we settled in to watch. Along about 12:30, sure enough, the electric went off. But it came back on within a few minutes. So, I suppose the repair wasn’t that complicated.

I was sitting in the living room yesterday afternoon, knitting and watching old Andy Griffith reruns while Mr. FixIt snored in his recliner. It was about 3:00 when he woke up and looked at the weather. He said, “It’s going to be in the 60’s by 9:00 tonight. You should try sleeping in the camper again!” Well, you don’t have to ask me twice! I stuffed my things in my bag, kissed him on the forehead and headed back out.

He knows what sleeping in the camper or at the farm means to me. He understands me. He knows that I need regular alone time to recharge and commune with God. He also understands how rough the last couple of weeks have been for me. I’m so appreciative of him and his sweet heart.

When I was out in the camper Monday night, we were texting and I mentioned how I missed having my little hobnail milk glass lamp out in the camper with me. I took it in when I cleaned out the camper after our last trip. It was raining really hard or I would have gone back in for it. I got busy writing my post and forgot all about the lamp. But I did need some sort of light source and I hated to turn on the overhead lights. They are so harsh. I thought about it for a minute and I got an idea.

My phone was plugged into the charger. I turned the flashlight on and laid the phone on the nightstand, face down with the light shining straight up. I took a full water bottle (tightly sealed and dry) and sat it down right on top of the light coming out of the back of my phone. Voila! Instant lamp. It wasn’t bright enough to read by, but it was enough to help me see the keyboard if I needed to as I wrote.

I love it when a bright idea strikes and you can figure out a new way of doing things. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing this week. Figuring out new ways of doing things in my life. What is it they say? The true definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I’m tired of trying the same old things and not getting the results I want. Change is my middle name, so I have absolutely no problem trying something new. What always makes me stumble is finding the motivation…finding that one moment that meets the threshold of what I’m willing to accept. I met that this week. I’m smart enough to not expect major changes to come overnight. But I’m also a bulldog…I can work relentlessly when needed to affect transformation in my life. I’ve done it before…I’ll do it again!

Just spending this little time out here in the camper has helped tremendously. Thank you, Mr. FixIt…for loving me enough to let me fly.

❄️

“But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.”
2 Peter 3:18 ESV

Sitting at the Cool Kids’ Table

Thu, 18 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I won’t say my childhood sucked, because there were some really great parts of it. But, due to some of the situations I was placed in as a child, my self esteem took a giant hit and I never felt like I was enough. Or, maybe I was “too much”. Whatever…I never really felt like I fit in. I had a tight core of friends. There were a few bullies. And, there were all these people who didn’t give me the time of day. I grew up thinking it was because they didn’t like me. I internalized it to mean there was something wrong with me.

It took me a long time, and a lot of therapy, to work my way through some unfortunate events of my youth. Living in Colorado, I never really faced any of the people I thought didn’t like me, save for the class reunion every five years. The reunions still felt…cliquish. I went to West Virginia every summer and only hooked up with my old group of high school friends. Nothing ever changed…until Mr. Virgo died.

There is nothing…absolutely NOTHING good about losing your spouse. However, you CAN find good in the rebuilding of a life. When I took off in that little camper to heal my grief one campfire at a time, I didn’t realize the ripple effect that period of intense mourning and introspection would have on other areas of my life. One of the most significant changes I made was letting go of fear.

Fear had been my constant companion since my early childhood. I saw things and experienced things children shouldn’t see or experience. You can’t unring a bell. I created unhealthy coping strategies because I was too young to know anything about…well, much of anything. When I lost Mr. Virgo and went into the wilderness alone, I had to sit with myself…talk with myself…learn from myself. As I worked on healing my grief, I also worked on healing that wounded child within.

That was some of the most amazing personal growth I’ve ever done and I came out of it an entirely different person. There’s nowhere I feel that more than when I’m hanging out with the “kids” I graduated with.

I had every intention of staying out at the farm last night, but two things happened. One, the little dorm fridge I bought for the farm didn’t keep the dinner I bought frozen. And, since it was fish, I figured I’d be eating bananas and Oreos for supper. Then, I got a message from a high school friend asking if I was coming to the restaurant to see her. I thought it was tonight. Turns out it was last night. So, change of plans.

It’s a forty mile drive to town from the farm and that’s forty West Virginia miles. I got there a little bit late, but there was a table full of 1971 graduates, just tucking into their meals and heavy into their stories. I ordered a Diet Coke and made my rounds greeting everyone. I finally found a seat near Ruthie…the gal that organized this little soirée. Ruthie recently moved back to West Virginia from Las Vegas. As I looked around the table there were only a couple of these beautiful people that I really KNEW in high school. The rest I’ve come to know as adults…simply because Mark Zuckerberg wanted to connect college students at Harvard and created Facebook.

I sat and watched as everyone told stories and laughed and it struck me. Here were a bunch of people that ran around in entirely different social circles as kids. Yet as adults, there is so much common ground…merely because we walked the halls of the same school at the same time. Our class has been particularly tight. I don’t know if it was the era we grew up in or what, but we bond easily the older we get. Maybe it’s just something that happens when we age. We are less concerned with petty differences and we’re here for the party now. Because we don’t know when the ball will drop.

Anyway, I had a blast catching up with these very cool people and I’ll look forward to seeing them again whenever I can. Hopefully we can actually hold our 50th reunion next year since Covid cancelled it this year.

You wanna know what I think is the best thing about being sixty-eight? EVERY table is the “cool kids’ table”!

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

The Found Garden

Thu, 26 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I have made many FB friends since I started writing this blog. People I genuinely care for and admire. I learn from them. I celebrate their successes and mourn with them their losses. These were the people my Aunt Peeps referred to as my “pretend friends”. I mean…I can see where she was coming from. She had zero experience with technology and social media. She didn’t understand it and thought I was pretty “cuckoo”, to use her terms. But, my readers are special to me.

One such friend is Julie Zickafoose. Julie is an amazing woman with a huge, wide open heart. She is an artist, and author, a naturalist. She is a latent hippy mama hell bent on saving Mother Nature and all God’s creatures. Her love for flora and fauna is admirable and…well, I want to be her when I grow up!

Yesterday, she wrote a beautiful post on her Facebook page about her found garden. Plants that volunteered in the ground of her greenhouse. Flowers that shed surprising amounts of seed that she was able to nurture over the winter and plant in the spring. Bits of flotsam and jetsam found on the discount shelf in the plant section that she nurtured and revived until the thrived on their own. Strong, sturdy, and unbelievably gorgeous. And…almost all for free.

This got me to thinking about my measly “found garden” this summer and I’ve decided to make it a goal to nurture some flower beds around the house next summer. I went around yesterday and took a few pictures. You’ve seen these crazy lilies called Star of Bethlehem that revived themselves from what looked like nothing but dead, dry bulbs into tall and stately stem of perfect white stars.

One day last week, I was walking up the sidewalk and glanced over at that same pot and spotted a tiny little purple flower in the same pot as the lilies. When I went over and took a closer look, I was amazed to find a perfect little petunia. Where that seed came from, I’ll never know. It had to have been in the potting soil I dumped in the galvanized tub along with the near lifeless lily bulbs.

Another surprise came in a different tub. It was under the bird-feeder. Usually, all you’ll get are grasses, unless perhaps a bird has eaten a berry or something and the seeds land in a fertile place a grow. Honestly, I’m as puzzled as I can be because a virtual plethora of vines with a tulip shaped leaf started growing. And growing. And growing! They started to climb the fence and the other flowers and went crazy. They didn’t bloom for the longest time until this last week. Then they started producing beautiful bluebird blue trumpet shaped flowers and I caught my breath…

Morning Glories!

I have tried for YEARS to grow morning glories and I have never, ever been successful. I have no idea why. I have a black thumb…I can kill a silk plant in no time flat. And these just….showed up! I didn’t have to do anything.

They remind me of how God shows up. Nothing we can DO can make Him love us more. We can’t “get in his good graces” by our works. He won’t love us any more if we work harder, or earn more money, or win prizes, or rise to the top of the food chain. All we have to do is be kind, be good, be more like Jesus. That’s when God shows up and brings flowers up out of the dirt where none were planted. It’s one of the ways he says I love you, I see you, I’m rooting for you.

Flowers are a gift from God. Little miracles. Miracles happen every day…if you just open your eyes and look for them. I’ll miss my surprise flowers while I’m gone. But, hey…maybe God will have something else waiting for me when we get home! Today would have been my mom’s 96th birthday. Instead, she will be forever 78. Just ten years older than I am now. She left us all too soon, and I miss her dreadfully. Interestingly, the little tiny petunia is purple…her favorite color.

This makes me smile.

““Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.”
Luke 12:27 NIV

When is it a Disaster…When is it Just…Life?

Wed, 25 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

There are truly disasters that occur. Things that could not have been predicted that befall us and change our lives in a heartbeat. The floods in Tennessee…the terrible ice storms in Texas…the dreadful fires in the west. These are all things that, aside from the unfortunate predictability of increased global warming, are still horrifying to watch. And even more horrifying to be a part of.

I’ve been thinking about my grandparents and my parents and how they lived through the Great Depression and World War II. Those were both events that shook our country to the very core. Our great and great great grandparents lived through the Civil War…a time when the very fabric of our being was torn in two. They didn’t throw their hands up and cry woe is me. They rolled up their sleeves and put others first. They put their shoulders to the wheel and pushed forward with all their might.

We’ve become both softened and hardened by technology. We’re soft because there are machines and computers that do everything for us. Everything…EVERYTHING is done electronically. We’ve put all our eggs in one basket and it’s not going to take long for someone to figure out how to take a sledgehammer to them and it won’t be pretty. We’ve become hardened because it’s hard to tease out fact from fiction for the typical Joe and Jane America. We’ve become hardened because we have a screen to hide behind and we don’t have to look in the eyes of our real and imagined adversaries.

But, with all that being said…I truly, truly believe there are far more good people in the world than there are really bad people. The thing is…goodness doesn’t sell advertising space. Sensationalism and keeping every single news cycle focused on all the terrible things can keep us in a constant state of anxiety if we let it.

I received an e-mail yesterday from the Census Bureau asking me to fill out a “Coronavirus Household Pulse Survey”. It asked questions they didn’t ask in the regular census. The purpose of the survey was to gauge our reactions to the pandemic. How it’s affecting us….physically, financially, mentally, and emotionally. It asked if we were having trouble meeting bills. Were we able to seek and receive the healthcare we needed. Are we getting enough food. This is designed to find out where the trouble spots are and where resources are needed the most.

One of the greatest lessons of the Depression and WWII was the need for social services to help people through the tough times in life. And, it was fortunate our ancestors were largely farmers and hard work was already a part of their daily lives. They knew how to do all the things that need doing and, unfortunately, a lot of those skills have died out with them. I am a strong proponent of bringing Home Economics and Shop classes back to schools. I think there should be a class that teaches young people how to fill out job applications, balance a checkbook, file taxes. I’ve seen programs that match schools with nursing homes and senior centers in order to enlighten both demographics. There are places that put day care centers in nursing homes and it benefits the elders as well as the littles.

How can we preserve the skills that are rapidly dying? What skills do you have that you might share with young people? What if all the electronics went away tomorrow? Who would know what to do without YouTube and Google? These are things that roam around in my head when I’m not busy enough, I’m afraid. But they are things that should be addressed. Our great grandchildren’s lives may depend on it.

As disastrous as the pandemic has been, these sorts of things are just a part of life. Sometimes life is cake…and sometimes it’s really, really hard. Devastatingly hard. Knowing we are not alone in our difficulties can go a long way in calming our fears of the unknown and the anxieties of uncertainty. God walks with His children…always. That was one of the biggest gems I discovered in the flames of my grief. While I was a widow and I was crushed…I was never alone. We are brokenhearted over many things right now. But please know this…God draws near to the brokenhearted. It is when we can communicate with him most intimately.

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.”
1 Peter 4:10 NIV

#Skills, #Talents, #Knowledge

Please Don’t Feed the Trolls

Mon, 16 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

When you own a website or blog, you open yourself up to a lot of good things. And, as they say… “Into each life, a little rain must fall.” It’s unavoidable. I know full well, when I touch on controversial subjects, I’m liable to get some pushback. It comes with the turf. I don’t mind hearing other’s opinions, of course…as long as there is an attempt at civil discourse. I seldom delete a post, and I rarely need to block someone. But, it happened yesterday so I thought perhaps we should discuss it.

According to my statistics on this page, my demographic is largely women aged 60 and over…not unexpected since my writing covers grief, faith, aging, health, cooking, family, retirement, farm life, and….well, you get it. You’ve been reading me long enough to know what I do here. It occurred to me yesterday, women in this demographic may not know how to spot a troll on social media…or even know what that is.

There is a difference between a troll and someone merely disagreeing with something you’ve said and expressing themselves. It isn’t always easy to tell them apart…especially when things get heated. I get a notification every time someone likes or comments on my posts here…the “launch pad” to my website. I try to at least acknowledge every interaction on my page because I like staying engaged with you all. Most of the time you get a ? and sometimes you get a written response…it depends on the subject and how much time I have that day. At any rate, I like for you to know I’m seeing what you write to me and I deeply appreciate you.

Yesterday, I broke my own rule. I unknowingly fed a troll and things started escalating. In my defense, I was out on the mower at the end of the far field. I stopped to take a drink and I felt my phone vibrate. I took a quick look and saw some heat and stepped in with what I hoped was a calming response. By the time I was finished mowing, it was obvious I should have taken the time to look into the person making the comments.

There were several red flags. First, it wasn’t a name I recognized…I had never seen a comment from this person before. And, second…she got personal, fast. Attacking not only me, but other readers. I honestly didn’t take the time to do any research. I have zero tolerance for personal attacks so I removed the ugly posts and blocked the person. Later, in order to make sure I did the right thing, I asked a friend to look this person up and check on two things…when she joined Facebook and how many friends she had. It wasn’t two minutes later when I got the confirmation I needed. New account. No friends. That’s what I should have done first before I ever responded….look her up to confirm.

Trolls and troll accounts can come from a variety of sources. Sometimes it’s nothing more than cyber bullies…anonymous accounts someone hides behind in order to attack and provoke a response from either the owner of the page or their friends/readers/customers. The attacks are usually focused around hot topics and they are meant to trigger people into responding out of anger. This type of troll gets a kick out of the drama and angry responses and will continue to escalate with every response…often getting personal. They’ll send laughing emojis when you respond with anger. They belittle and demean. And they have a hunger to be fed. If you ignore them, sometimes they give up and go away on their own because they aren’t getting what they want. That’s easier to do when it’s just you responding on your own page. It’s an entirely different situation when you have over 6,000 readers on a blog.

Another kind of troll is what we saw starting in about 2014. Russian Intelligence discovered the United States would be far easier to defeat if they divided us and pitted us against each other. So they went on a massive disinformation campaign to do just that and drew the line in the sand between political parties. This continued during the campaign for the 2016 Presidential election…the fallout of which we will be dealing with for God knows how long. I am sure it continues today as foreign powers jump on the bandwagon, reach into our computers, and stir up a hornet’s nest.They have learned they can destroy us without firing a shot. All they have to do is poke the bear, point the finger at the other guy saying, “He did it!” Then, they sit back and laugh at how easy it was.

Recognizing a cyber bully is easier than recognizing a troll account created by a foreign power. The trick is to stop and think before you respond. Have a peek at the person’s personal FB page. The biggest clue is “no friends” or a really new account. They rant. They pick trigger topics and gauge the audience to actually decide which side of the fence to stand on. They may not even believe in what they’re spewing…they’re just in it for the high of the response.

Clemson University created a questionnaire to try to help you figure out who is legit and who is a troll. You can find it HERE. I’m pretty savvy to this issue because I’ve been writing this blog for over eight years now. I got 7 out of 8 right on Spot the Troll. It’s not easy to apply critical thinking skills when you’re in the heat of the moment. So, before you start throwing barbs back, take a breath and do a little research. It’ll be better for your blood pressure.

We’re all in this together. Let’s try to educate each other and outsmart the fox that’s somehow gotten into our henhouse.

“There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.”
Proverbs 6:16-19 ESV

3,000 Days

Fri, 28 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Grandma’s Peonies

While Mr. FixIt busied himself fixing the door into our pole building, I headed to the farm to bring some more stuff home. I have to admit...I stretched out on Grandma’s bed for a half hour before I packed up the truck. Soaking up the atmosphere. It feels good. I really don’t have a whole lot left out there...but I don’t pack the truck too full with each load. It gives me more trips to the farm! I canceled the Dish Network account out at the farm this morning...thus ending a 23 year run with them. It will be interesting to find out how long that phone number has been in the family!

Wisteria

I had a little walkabout and photographed Grandma’s flowers. I think her peonies are the prettiest I’ve ever seen. The irises are lovely, and since irises need to be thinned on occasion, I’m going to bring just a few over to the Ponderosa and make a special flower bed out near my new mini-campground we’re putting in. I also have a she-shed in my future that I want to build out there as part of my little compound for gathering my girlfriends and campout. I have it pictured in my mind. Now I just need to gather old doors and wood to build it with! I have so many projects I want to complete here at the Ponderosa. I do believe, once it’s complete, it shall be renamed...what? Marshmallow Ranch, of course!

Clematis and Carolina Spice Bush

I got the nicest note from Frank and Beans on Wednesday night. They were on their way down to WV to work on their cabin, so when I was finished loading what I wanted to bring home yesterday, I headed up to see what’s going on. They have one of those driveways that are very common in these West Virginia hills...straight up! Well, not really...but it sure seemed that way. I jumped out of the truck to greet my newest friends and look at their place. It’s beautiful up there and they have a view that looks right out over the treetops. It reminds me of pictures taken above the canopy of a rainforest...but without the monkeys!

Iris, foreground...Rhododendron, background

When they had their driveway graded, the folks doing the work found a huge rock in the shape of a heart. It has special meaning to Frank, so I brought them another heart shaped rock I brought home from Colorado and gave it to them as a housewarming gift. I couldn’t stay long, but we vowed to stay in touch, and they reiterated I am welcome to stay at the farm anytime. Just sitting on the porch during a rainstorm will be a huge treat, let alone getting to stay for a day or two.

Iris

I stopped at the store on the way home and fixed a quick supper. We have been dining on the deck every night under the pergola. We’ve only stayed out long enough to turn the market lights on a couple of times because we’ve been so busy with projects. But I envision more late nights out there as we catch up a little. Especially when the kids are here. I’m looking forward to doing more entertaining, as well.

Iris

It’s supposed to rain today and the weather will turn quite cool over the next few days. The nights will be especially cool...good sleeping weather. I have discovered something very interesting. Now that I write in the spare bedroom, I am sleeping much more soundly when I get up and go to our room. Something about separating “work” from home has really improved my sleep hygiene. I sure wish TOW-Wanda was here and fixed already...I’d really enjoy sleeping out there on these cool nights. That’s what I get for procrastinating getting her to the RV Doctor!

Multiflora Rose

Oh, and another thing...just as a matter of course. Today marks 3,000 days since Mr. Virgo died. I never could have dreamed of this life...of experiencing joy and happiness and deep love again. I couldn’t picture myself surviving that loss, let alone coming out the other side with a beautiful and fulfilling life. I just thought I would share that with you so that...if you are bereaved...there is hope for a good life down the road. I know it’s such a hard, hard journey...but a good life is worth working for.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11 ESV

Day 355: Tackling the Lists

Sat, 06 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I had one job. Well, that’s not really true. I had a zillion and one, but my only “outside of the house” job yesterday was to stop the mail and return a package. Easy enough. Both at the Post Office. I finished and went to Dollar General to pick up a couple of things. (I forgot the toothpaste.) I came home and cleaned the fridge, washed the dishes, and took out the trash. I sat down to send a couple of emails when Mr. FixIt came in. And, as soon as I saw him, I expressed an expletive of utter frustration. He looked back at me with that, “What did I do now?” look that husbands often give their frazzled wives.

“I forgot to stop the mail!”

Oh, I do hope this surgery helps my poor foggy brain. I know, I can stop the mail online, but the last time I did that, we came home and went to pick up our mail and they said we hadn’t received any...which I find incredibly hard to believe. But, what could I do? I went back online and signed in to our USPS account and stopped the mail for the duration with explicit instructions that we would be picking it up at the Post Office upon our return. Who knows? I hope they do it right.

My stepson came out yesterday to see us and brought his old lab, Bailey, out to see us. Pumpkin, our fairly wild farm cat apparently things she is a panther. Poor Bailey. She has kitties at home and Pumpkin has never seen a dog up close and personal, especially one that moseyed right over to give her a friendly sniff. That cat went right after the dog with absolutely NO fear. We were able to keep her away then I got her spray bottle and spritzed her every time she lunged. I finally corralled her in the building so that I could sit down and relax, as well. We went for a walkabout down to the creek. It has gone back to its normal state. Sometimes the storms wash up some old arrowheads or flint pieces, but we didn’t find any this time.

I finally sat down at 8:30 last night to write. I got a link from my friend, Joe Webb who interviewed me and it went live yesterday. His podcast is Accidental Tomatoes. It talks about matters of faith and is an offshoot of New Wineskins, a combo Bible Study, Pub Church, and social gathering that I attended for several years. I’ve spoken to this group a couple of times.I really love the diversity of topics as well as attendees. They seem to be a mixed bag of folk who are leery of or burned out on mainstream churches. Joe is an ordained Methodist pastor and leads the group via Zoom now and it’s grown considerably since then.

If you’ve been following me for a long time, you probably have heard much of this story, but if you are so inclined, you can find the podcast HERE.

“We make our own plans, but the Lord decides where we will go.”
Proverbs 16:9 CEV

Day 352: Insomnia and The Three P’s

Wed, 03 Mar 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Ever have one of those nights where you just can’t seem to turn your mind off? I’ve had way too many of those over the last several years. Grief messes with your circadian rhythms. Well, it’s probably more the cellphone usage in an effort to pass the hours till it’s time to get up. Let’s face it, I’ve never been a great sleeper, anyway. Add Politics, a Pandemic, and Parathyroid disease and you have a recipe for insomnia.

Last week we had an appointment scheduled to make our wills. I was a basket case for days over that. It just stirred up too much angst and grief in me. I mean, who wants to go plan for the possible loss of another husband, right? We ended up having a phone conference to get things started, but I knew as soon as they were through with the paperwork, we would have to go into the office and read it over and sign papers. With that thought in mind, I was awake most of Monday night.

Once we had that phone conference and we actually said the things out loud, yesterday turned out to be really easy. We went over everything and got it all signed, dated, and notarized. Once we were finished and had kibitzed with the attorney for awhile over old Parkersburg stories, we took our very important papers and headed off for a late lunch and some shopping. The day was sunny, crisp, and beautiful. And, I felt a lightness in my chest that surprised me. I turned to Mr. FixIt and smiled.

“I feel like such a grown up!” I said with a conspiratorial grin.

We both laughed, considering I’m soon to be 68 and he just turned 69.

“Is this what being all grown up feels like?”

It’s just one of those things you do as a responsible adult. It’s something Mr. Virgo and I put off because we felt we had enough time. That’s the way it is, isn’t it? We always think we have time. But time is such a slippery thing. Before you know it, too much of it has passed and maybe it’s difficult to have the conversation, or maybe you’re afraid you aren’t on the same page, but at this stage in the game, it’s just downright irresponsible to go any longer without one. So, now it is finished and we’re all grown up.

I wonder what I want to be...now that I’m a grown up? I guess there’s still time to figure that out!

“When we were children, we thought and reasoned as children do. But when we grew up, we quit our childish ways.”
1 Corinthians 13:11 CEV

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 243: Saying “Goodbye”

Thu, 12 Nov 2020 02:30:00 -0600

No, no...not me. I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry. Last night, Mr. FixIt and I watched the Veteran’s Day tribute to the final episode of MASH. Oh...I really loved that show. The first episode aired on September 17, 1972. I was in my second year of radiology training. But, I don’t really remember watching it until the late 1970’s, probably because I spent the middle of that decade in England.

Hubby #2 was in medical school and we were dirt poor. We couldn’t afford to heat the house so as soon as it was dark out, we’d all pile up in our bed under a gazillion covers to stay warm. MASH was one of our favorite shows. When we finally were finished with medical training, we moved to the mountains. MASH was syndicated by then and there were reruns every night. It was our habit to watch the 11:00 news, then an episode of MASH before we went to sleep.

When that fateful day came when it wasn’t on after the news anymore, it felt like the whole world was different. In the final episode, BJ has been having a really hard time saying the word “goodbye”. As Hawkeye lifts off in the helicopter, he looks down and sees that BJ arranged the white rocks from around the camp into the word GOODBYE...and the familiar strains of the theme song came in as the chopper flies off into the sunset.

Goodbyes are not easy. Sometimes we get the opportunity to say goodbye...sometimes we don’t. Real life isn’t like a well loved if not slightly predictable television program. As I sat down to write this, I opened my iPad like I do every night. My browser was open and there was a story about Alex Trebek’s final day. Alex was particularly fond of a swing he had on his property. He spent his last day, sitting in that swing with his wife, staring at the horizon. I don’t know what his view was, but I think the fact that he was at peace with what he undoubtedly knew was coming made it all the more beautiful.

I read that his only regret was he didn’t get to spend as many years with his beloved wife as he would have liked. I think of her now...newly bereaved...sitting out in that swing alone. She still feels him with her, I’m sure. What a beautiful last day he had. Holding his wife’s hand, rocking in the swing. Perhaps they spoke. Perhaps they had long stretches of companionable silence. No one knows but her...as it should be.

Goodbyes are our last moments of intimacy with people. I was bent over Mr. Virgo as he lay on the floor of that camper in Colorado. I knelt down beside him and held his hand to my chest. On some level, I’m sure I knew I was saying goodbye, but I was doing my darnedest to will him to stay with me. Just in case, I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “I love you.” He whispered back, “I love you, too.” I know so many don’t get that goodbye...that closure...and that breaks my heart.

I have a cousin I dearly love. We’ve been FB friends for quite some time. He and his wife were so wonderful and helped me adjust when I first moved back to West Virginia. I am not sure what happened, but we are no longer connected on FB. I don’t know if he saw my political posts and didn’t like them. I don’t know if I said or did something that upset him in some way. I didn’t discover this until yesterday morning, so I have no idea how long it’s been since he unfriended me. It breaks my heart because I love him. But, what can you do? I reached out to his wife and told her to please tell him I love him to the moon...her, too. Maybe we’ll reconnect. Maybe not. Not all goodbyes bring closure. Sometimes they’re one sided and we just have to accept them.

I’ve never liked goodbyes. They make me sad. They make me cry. Sometimes they confuse me. Sometimes they force me to look in a mirror. There have been a few that have caused me to breathe a sigh of relief. In whatever form, goodbyes always reflect change. The impermanence of this life and the relationships we get to have in it. They’re not always for richer or for poorer, till death us do part. Sometimes they are nothing more than staring off at the horizon.

“My friends, be glad, even if you have a lot of trouble. You know you learn to endure by having your faith tested. But you must learn to endure everything, so you will be completely mature and not lacking in anything.”
James 1:2-4 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 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 135: A Blessed Day of Rain

Fri, 31 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Yesterday was a peaceful day. I made French Toast from my homemade sourdough bread for breakfast. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so divine as that. There is something wonderful about the texture of this bread that is only magnified when it’s coated with a slightly sweetened custard and fried to crispy perfection in one of my magical iron skillets.

I think I’m finally getting the feel for cooking in an iron skillet. I’ve always been a little heavy handed with the heat when I cook. Cast iron demands a gentler approach. There is a delicate balance between hot enough to fry crispy but not so hot as to burn food to the pan. That way, cleanup is much easier and you don’t need water and soap...two things that are deleterious to a well seasoned iron skillet.

When it comes time to clean my cast iron, I wait till it’s cooled down enough to handle without burning myself. I sprinkle in a scant tablespoon of coarse grained salt and a teaspoon or so of olive oil. Then I wad up a paper towel and scrub the inside of the skillet with the oily salt. You can feel when any bits of food have been removed because the surface will feel silky smooth under the salt. I take the skillet to the trash can and wipe all the dirty salt and food bits into the trash then wipe the inside of the pan with a clean paper towel and little bit more oil. Once the inside of the pan is done, I wipe down the outside and the handle with what’s left of the oil in the paper, then leave the skillet on the stove top. I have a gas stove. I have heard of people who have used cast iron on a glass cooking surface, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s too easy to scratch or break the cook top.

Once the kitchen was clean, I set to work in the office again, copying the posts from 2015 and 2016 over to the blog. I’m at the point now where my aunt invited me to leave the farm and I struck out on my next adventure. A sweet friend left for Wyoming to take care of her grandchildren while her daughter was doing her student teaching and allowed me to stay in her loft apartment in exchange for watering her plants and bringing in the mail.

It’s really interesting to go back and read my earlier posts. It reminds me how hard grief was those first couple of years. And it shows my how much my life has changed...how much I have changed in the time since I arrived in West Virginia. I really want to get all the work from Facebook transferred over to my blog so it’s safely in one place. I invested a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in my writing these last seven plus years...I would certainly hate to lose any of it. It’s irreplaceable, actually.

It has finally rained like crazy here off and on all day. Our garden will be so happy. I went out yesterday and found a few tomatoes that aren’t quite ripe, but something has been eating the low hanging ones. I imagine it’s the relentless bunnies I chase off only to find them right back a few hours later. I was trying to get a picture of how tall the tomato plants are but the only way to really do that by myself was a selfie with my hand raised up. As you can see, the plant is a good six inches beyond my reach...and I’m 5’6” tall! It’s crazy how much they’ve grown.

Here it is...the last day of July! How can that be possible? I promised Mr. FixIt we would go for a drive today. It’s time for an adventure. I’ll keep you posted!

❤️

“Try your best to live quietly, to mind your own business, and to work hard, just as we taught you to do. Then you will be respected by people who are not followers of the Lord, and you won't have to depend on anyone.”
1 Thessalonians 4:11-12 CEV

Day 133: The Many Faces of Grief

Wed, 29 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I received a phone call yesterday from my baby cousin. She was the one who lived far away and came to visit us several times when we were growing up. She’s had her hands full...caring for her mom, my favorite auntie. And for her husband, who has been ill for quite some time. They are young...not quite sixty. I remember the first time I got to see her. She couldn’t quite walk and my aunt had her dressed in the sweetest little outfit with a matching coat. Her little curls stuck out from under the edges of the matching bonnet.

We were all smitten with our “Trinket”, as Grandma called her. She was like a china doll and we didn’t even mind that Grandma paid all her attention to this little one. We knew she was special. Anyway...she called yesterday. Her beloved husband passed in his sleep Sunday night. My heart breaks for her because I know what she is going through. I know what she has ahead of her. I pray for her comfort and peace. I know she is very strong and capable and she will get through this. I just hate it for her.

When I look back at pictures of us all those many years ago, we had no idea what was going to happen to us in our lives. She is now the third of us cousins to lose a spouse. Grandma lost her only love when she was sixty-five. She showed us girls how to live through that with strength and dignity and courage.

There are so many faces of grief. It isn’t just the death of a person that grieves us. We can feel just as deep grief whether the source is a person, place, or thing. I’ve been grieving a potential loss the last couple of years knowing my beloved family farm will not always be “mine”. My uncle owns it and he is aging now. He cannot keep coming to fix it or put the money into it forever, so the time will come.

I was grieving that more this week since the tree came down and the house needed fixing. It made the “eventuality” come closer to the forefront. I have to admit, I became distraught over it. Then “Trinket” lost her husband and God whispered...”All things must come to an end and come Home to me.”

We can make all the plans we want. We can have dreams and adventures. And in the end, our best gift is the memories we made with the time we were given. I’ve been having a lot of fun with this baking and gardening and canning. And, as soon as that settles down, my focus is back on writing. I’m going to write the story of...The Farm: A Story of Love and Land. I’ll gather pictures and stories from everyone and we’ll have a book for the family to read and remember. Then we’ll have a grand reunion and say a proper goodbye to this home of my heart.

I have no idea how much time I have exactly for this project, but I’m giving myself a year. That should be plenty. And it will help ease my dependence on the old house. Someday she will not be ours...she will belong to another family. But, she will always and forever be the home of my heart.

❤️

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest. Though hail flattens the forest and the city is leveled completely, how blessed you will be, sowing your seed by every stream, and letting your cattle and donkeys range free.”
Isaiah 32:18-20 NIV

Day 130: Not What I Expected

Sun, 26 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Even with everything that’s gone on this year since the initial lockdown, yesterday felt different. Mr. FixIt and I were heading to our great-grandson’s 1st Birthday Party. We needed to make a stop at Walmart to pick some things up to take with us. There is only one entrance open now at the Walmart we shop at.

“This Door for Emergency Use Only” the sign said.

Yellow caution tape lined the area where we were inspected for masks before entering the store. That is good. I want people to wear masks. But this time I could feel the longevity of this disease. It’s too late to say “If only everyone would have worn masks, we wouldn’t have to face months and months of this.” That ship has sailed. I am learning of more and more people getting the virus. People I know personally. The families of people I know personally.

We went to the party and the family had placed signs on a table asking people to stay 6’ back. So, at one end, you have the young mommies and daddies with their little ones...all congregating around the pizza and the cake and the presents. At the other end, you had the grandmas and the grandpa and the family members that practice social distancing. Which was just fine. We visited at a distance and had masks to put on if someone sat a little too close.

What went through my mind was...the birthday boy is a year old now and I haven’t held him since February. Our great-granddaughter is almost three. She knows now which grandparents can’t hold her so she’s stop asking for cuddles. The baby is six months old now and doesn’t know who we are. It breaks my heart.

I look back over the photos in my iPad at times when social isolation and masks were something that they did in Hong Kong during SARS....not here. It’s getting to be hard to imagine going someplace with the freedom we had BC (before Covid). I try not to dwell on it, but it’s increasingly hard not to.

It helps tremendously to think of what’s above and not what’s here on earth. This is not my home in the end. I am just passing through here and there is a home in heaven with my name on it. This is God’s promise to me. The Bible tells us we will have troubles here. It’s just the nature of life here on earth.

I fill my days, though. Lands...I don’t have hardly a moment to call my own these days. After the birthday party, we stopped for a burger on the way home. Then Mr. FixIt suggested we take a ride out this country road to where there were a lot of nurseries at one time. One of my cousins told us they are selling tomatoes and other produce in front of a couple of “high tunnels”...greenhouses that look like a Quonset hut.

There was a table set up out front, under a folding canopy, laden with the most beautiful tomatoes you can imagine. There were peppers and cucumbers, too. There was a price list and it was all on the honor system. We don’t need tomatoes as ours are just beginning to ripen. And, they didn’t have green beans, which is what I’m looking for. So we didn’t purchase anything.

I can’t believe it is Sunday again...it just seems like yesterday. The time seems to be flying by...which I suppose is a good thing, given all the circumstances. Still, I really feel like we need to really feel the feels that go along with this crisis or we will miss the lessons we can learn from it. It’s easy to stay present when it’s a pleasant experience. Not so much when things are rough.

Maybe we will appreciate our freedoms more once this is all over.

❤️

“Think about what is up there, not about what is here on earth.”
Colossians 3:2 CEV

Day 124: Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary...How Does Your Garden Grow?

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

The is the first year since I moved back to West Virginia that I am staying home all summer. I usually spend a month in Colorado with my kids, but Covid and Mr. FixIt’s health put a damper on that. So, the commitment to grow a garden took hold in the spring and...here we are. I gathered a handful of peppers off the three pepper plants yesterday. Peppers aren’t my favorite thing, but I wanted to put some banana pepper rings in my zucchini pickles this year to give them a little zing and there were several plants marked down at the greenhouse. Something happened to the labels, so it was anybody’s guess what kind of peppers I would end up with. It’s fun to take a chance once in a while, right?

The zucchini and yellow squash are really getting big so I’m definitely going to pick them today and get those pickles in the jars before I run out of luck and one of my nocturnal visitors decides they’re hungry. The Passion Flowers are blooming as they climb up the old chain link fence.

When I saw this meme the other day, I laughed. It’s so true. Growing anything is empowering. I remember all the times I had a garden in Colorado and how hard it was to grow much of anything. But, tomatoes? Lands...you could grow a tomato in the worst little square foot of soil and get at least enough to satisfy some of your cravings. I tilled and dug, planted and weeded, and watered those tomato plants and I was lucky if they came up to my waist. We have tomato plants out here in this garden that are taller than me...by a good foot and a half! The Romas are really putting on fruit fast now. They will be great for canning stewed tomatoes. The Big Boys and Better Boys are doing very well. There are some that are as big as baseballs now. There are some other varieties out there, but Mr. FixIt never saves the labels so other than the Romas, I don’t know what the others are.

It has been so terribly hot here...and sticky with humidity. Once it hits 10:30 or so in the morning, it’s really difficult to do much of anything. I’m still having to water 2-3 times a day to keep the garden from frying. Thank goodness we had a couple of rain showers pass through last evening. We dropped over twenty degrees in a matter of an hour or two. Now it will be even more humid today, but we have to take the rain when we can get it. We do have some little pumpkins setting on. I’m looking forward to harvesting some “Wedding Pumpkins”. These are grown from seed salvaged from the pumpkins that decorated our wedding nearly two years ago.

Our ground is getting cracks in it. West Virginia soil has a lot of clay in it and when it dries out, it contracts leaving great cracks and fissures. I remember one year I came home in the summer to visit and there had been a really long hot and dry spell. The ground out at the farm had cracks in it that were 2-3 inches across. It’s not that bad here...yet. Maybe this little bit of rain we got will bring some of the grass back. We haven’t mowed in over two weeks here at the Ponderosa.

I hope you had a good weekend and that you are staying safe and healthy.

❤️

“The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops.”
2 Timothy 2:6 NIV

Day 119: Once in 6,800 Years

Wed, 15 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Last fall, when I was on the journey chasing the sun with the Girl Camper Raffle R-Pod, one of the first places I stayed was Calhoun County Park. This is a 200 acre park with a renovated Historic Village, a campground with only eight sites, and a designated “dark sky stargazing area”. That means, there are no streetlights or floodlights in the park and the surrounding area is very rural. When it gets dark, it’s “can’t see your hands in front of your face” dark.

When I heard there was a comet in the area, I told Mr. FixIt I wanted to go for a drive over there to look for it. The sky was clear and the Milky Way splashed its cotton candy cloud of stars and noble gases across the indigo dome above us. We watched the sun set and the stars pop out one by one. I saw something but decided it was just a cloud. We didn’t even know which direction to look. So, we turned our chairs to see the darker side of the sky.

We saw the International Space Station go over. And satellites. We heard frogs and a whippoorwill and something rattling around in the woods. There were lightning bugs and the occasional whine of a mosquito in our ears. But, alas...no comet. By 10:30, we called it quits. The park is nearly an hour from home and it had been a long day. We gathered our chairs and as I was folding them, the man parked nearby asked us if we saw the comet. When we said no, he and his wife showed us where it was and handed us a pair of binoculars. And, sure enough...there it was!

Comet Neowise.

I gasped when I saw it. I saw the Hale-Bopp Comet when I was in Salt Lake City. This one was so much bigger. A little harder to see with the naked eye...but that thing I thought was a cloud was actually the comet. If you look straight at it, it’s hard to see. But if you look just to one side, you can easily see it. And you can definitely see it with a pair of good binoculars. We thanked the couple profusely and headed back home.

It was a really great day all the way around. I made a scratch pizza. Cleaned the pool. Watered the garden. And saw a comet that won’t be back around for 6,800 years. Not something you get to do everyday.

❤️

“He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.”
Psalms 147:3 NIV

Day 114: On Taxes and Time Machines and Turtles

Fri, 10 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I was chilling out on the couch last evening, watching the news when I realized...today is Friday. I remarked how quickly the weeks seem to be flying by. And, in other ways...it seems like we’ve been in this Covid mess for-ev-er! I can tell time is passing because my garden gets bigger every day. The “Day ___” here on my blog is getting higher every day. And if I don’t quit eating a whole pie (with Mr. FixIt’s help, of course) in a day’s time, I’m going to be as big as the broad side of a barn.

I went out to the farm yesterday to work on the taxes. As I expected, the internet went out at the house, so I saved myself a great deal of frustration by going out there. I tried the air conditioner again and it doesn’t work. Now it’s so late in the season, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find a new one, but I’ll look.

Mr. FixIt ran errands in town without me yesterday. He needed to stop and get something to eat in a hurry, and even though we’ve talked about not eating at fast food till this crisis is over, he stopped at Popeye’s to get a chicken sandwich. As he sat at the window, he watched the girl handle the money, then put the lid on his drink, and grab the bag of food...all without a mask or gloves. Now, our governor issued a mandate on Tuesday that masks indoors were mandatory...and I would certainly think everyone in food service would be wearing them. When the girl brought the food to the carry out window, Mr. FixIt held his hand up.

“I’m sorry...I am not going to take that food.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Well, you aren’t wearing gloves. You aren’t wearing a mask. You handled money, and you put the lid on my drink without sanitizing your hands. I don’t want this.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not my problem. The governor mandated masks and all food service workers should wear gloves.”

And, with that...he drove away. He called me later and said, “I did a thing. You’re going to be so proud of me.” And I am. I know it’s not easy for him to be cross with people, but these are extenuating circumstances. I suggested he go to a grocery store and get a little lunch meat and bread and make himself a couple of sandwiches, which is exactly what he did. We’ll call the manager and the customer complaint line today. We don’t want anyone to lose their jobs, but this was unacceptable, given the circumstances.

There is just so much going on at once. I think that’s why it feels like the time is flying by. The discussion about returning to school is very concerning for me. We have grandchildren who are still in school. My daughter is a teacher in an inner city high school in the Denver Metro area. I am not afraid of the virus for us. We stay home mostly and when we do go out, it’s always with masks and we carry hand sanitizer and wipes with us at all times. But the kids going back to school? That worries me.

The governor of Florida said...if you can go to Walmart, if you can go to Lowe’s...we can make school work. Yeah...ok. But, when I go to Lowe’s or Walmart, I don’t go five days in a row and stay for seven hours crammed in a small classroom with thirty other children...many of whom will be fighting wearing a mask. There are so many variables. I know children need socialization, but look at it this way. The vast majority of Americans went to school every day to be socialized and to learn how to get along well with others. How is that working so far?

I don’t know what the answers are. But I can tell you this...if my children were still in school, I think I’d be homeschooling them. I wish I had something better to offer. I wish there was a time machine we could either go back in time and fix things, or go forward and bypass all this.

I caught a huge raccoon in my live trap sometime during the night. So huge that he bent the trap door and got out. I found it first thing yesterday morning. So much for that idea. I guess I’ll be sharing the garden with the critters after all. I did do something good yesterday. I was coming home from the farm and about to turn onto our road when I saw a box turtle trying to cross the road. It was “rush hour” meaning there’s twenty more cars an hour going by. I pulled off the road and stopped the truck, jumped out, and save the little guy before he got smushed on the pavement. I hopped back in the truck and crossed to road and into our driveway. Then I carried the turtle down to the end of the farm field and let it go near the creek...where I let the other one go. Maybe they’ll be friends!

We have the same breath...those animals and me.

❤️

“I also said to myself, “As for humans, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. Surely the fate of human beings is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; humans have no advantage over animals. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?” So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot. For who can bring them to see what will happen after them?”
Ecclesiastes 3:18-22 NIV

Day 112: The Birds and The Bees

Wed, 08 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I had a little break yesterday when Mr. FixIt went to physical therapy without me. I worked on the taxes a little...till the internet went out again. The service tech was just here on Friday and put in new wiring and a new router. Ten minutes after he left, the internet went down again. It comes and goes. I can’t seem to figure out why. I hope he can because he’s coming back today to take another stab at it.

I puttered around the garden and tied up the tomatoes. It is amazing how fast they have taken off and how heavy they have become. They are becoming heavy laden with nice green tomatoes. I’m certain we’ll be canning tomatoes this summer! The little raccoon that’s been after our bird feeder managed to knock it down during the night so I set out the live trap to see if I can catch it and deliver it somewhere far, far away from here.

When I was finished in the garden, I headed back inside. The yard inside the fence hasn’t been mowed this week and it is full of clover. And wherever you have clover, you have honeybees. I was walking everywhere barefoot, not a care in the world. Then, I suddenly thought, “Oh, I’d better be careful or I’m going to get stung!” And....BAM! I felt that sharp, electrical shock of pain go through my foot. I looked down and I didn’t actually see a bee, but I assume that’s what it was. It’s been ages since I had a bee sting and I felt like a dolt for not wearing my shoes when I knew better. But, hey...I’m a West Virginia girl. We don’t wear shoes when we don’t have to!

I mixed up some pie crust and set it in the fridge to chill while I peeled some Granny Smith apples and had a pie ready to pop in the oven when Mr. FixIt came home. As soon as it was done and the news was over, I went out to help him put some more stakes in for the last of the tomatoes. We watered the garden and called it a day.

I consider it a good day indeed when you can eat hot apple pie with whipped cream for supper. Farm livin’ is the life for me...bee stings and all!

❤️

“So if you faithfully obey the commands I am giving you today—to love the Lord your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul— then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and olive oil. I will provide grass in the fields for your cattle, and you will eat and be satisfied.”
Deuteronomy 11:13-15 NIV

Day 104: A Day of Introspection & Praying for Karen

Mon, 29 Jun 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I finished all the mowing on Saturday so I didn’t have anything on my schedule but online church yesterday. I puttered around in the garden. I watered all the tomato plants with the epsom salt solution. I trimmed some wild growth along the back fence that’s threatening the garden with too much shade. There’s a deer wandering around with a bum leg and I checked on her. She seems to be eating and getting to the water in the creek ok so I’m just going to watch her for awhile. I fed the sourdough starter and made a great supper. We ate out on the deck which was lovely. Then took a long walk around the property. I wanted to show Mr. FixIt a fruit tree I found along the edge of the field. It looks like a peach. Or maybe a cherry. No fruit, though.

I watched CBS Sunday Morning yesterday with my coffee. They did a story on the memes that have been out about the “Karens” of the world...typically white middle-aged housewives who are prone to ask to speak to the manager. I’ve worked in hospitality and in medicine and lived near Aspen for years. I’m quite familiar with the type of privilege this embodies.

I wondered where they would take this with the videos of women (and men) behaving badly and I was glad to see the turn it took at the end. My job at the hotels I worked at was to deal with disgruntled guests. Disgruntled guests who had dropped a bundle of money to stay where they were staying. I myself have had to speak to managers before, but I can guarantee I never threw a hissy fit the likes of which would scare any preschooler straight.

It’s difficult to deal with this kind of person in general. Back when I dealt with them, cell phones with video cameras weren’t around yet. I can imagine seeing someone tape you acting a fool is comparable to throwing gasoline on an open flame. Do we really think trying to shame them by splashing their less than flattering behaviors all over the internet is going to change them? Or is it just bringing us down to their level using their meltdown for some sort of amusement...sort of like watching a train wreck?

My answer when dealing with them directly was to find a common ground and appeal to their sense of fairness. That was then. We’ve unleashed an entirely new beast now. Let’s just say, I am really glad I’m not working in customer service anymore. Now I just pray for them that they somehow see themselves more honestly. That they “wake up”.

A friend shared a video taken in a local park. A young black man and his father got out of their car to walk and a man walking a dog stopped and stared at them. Then he started saying terrible things to them...racial slurs and worse. The young man told his dad this was his first experience with racism. The dad said he had never seen it this bad. It broke my heart that this was in my home town.

I feel like I’m living in the Twilight Zone. It’s like we’re living in the Civil War, the Civil Rights Era, Watergate, and the Ten Plagues...all at once. Add health issues and the extra chores and the heat and no “me time” and I’m getting downright cranky.

My only answer now is prayer. Lots and lots of prayer.

Oh...and skinny dipping in the dark.

That’s good for the soul.

You can see the CBS Sunday Morning story here: https://www.cbsnews.com/news/faith-salie-on-the-term-karen/

❤️

“Don’t grumble against one another, brothers and sisters, or you will be judged. The Judge is standing at the door!”
James 5:9 NIV

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

Day 42: Developing Faith in a Camper

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

I went into x-ray training straight out of high school. Our first year was spent almost entirely in the classroom with gradual transition to working in the x-ray department. Our second year was almost all hands-on experience. We each had to take turns working in surgery, mostly in orthopedics taking films to see if bones were set and pins were placed correctly. It was fascinating and held my interest far more than high school ever did.

There was a particular orthopedic surgeon everyone was nervous around. He was big and gruff and his voice boomed around the whole floor. When he told you to jump, you asked him how high on your way up. He had a habit of coming to the little closet where we hand developed his films. If he felt you were taking too long, he kicked hard on the door and scared you half to death.

One particularly busy day, he came kicking on my door for the last time. I covered the developing tanks and opened the door and said, “What?!” He just stood there staring at me for a second.

“Where are my films!” His voice bellowed.

I really was shaking in my boots, but I’d had it up to here with being afraid every day so I put my hand on my hip and said, “Well, come in here and I’ll show you!”

He walked in, still in his surgical garb and I shut the door behind him.

As I opened the tanks back up, I explained to him that I could give him fast films or I could give him good films. It all depended on the temperature of the chemicals. Crank up the heat and you could develop those films lickety-split, but they were grainy and had very little definition.

When I was finished, I opened the door and handed him the films. I was absolutely sure I would get my can thrown out of school over that one, but from then on, there was a certain respect between us.

Developing faith is a lot like that. It takes time in a dark room to develop. It’s not like the digital images we great in nanoseconds. It takes work and time. And just like learning to take x-rays, we are tested when we learn to have faith. Those tests aren’t easy. We have to work through them feeling alone and wondering where the teacher is.

You see, the teacher is silent during the test. It’s meant to be that way so that we can focus. Just because we can’t see the teacher doesn’t mean he isn’t there. He’s always there.

These are trying times we are in right now. Hopefully, we are developing in our faith as we spend time in this dark room. Hopefully we are taking advantage of the quiet time during this time of testing. When we develop and grow in our faith, we are given the gift of tools to use when we move on to the next lesson. Faith gets built upon, day by day, year by year. We never stop growing older, so we should never stop growing in our faith, either.

I spent the majority of the day yesterday out in the camper. We watched online church. Then CBS Sunday Morning. Then I packed up my books and headed out to TOW-Wanda. It rained all day and it was so wonderful to cuddle up on the daybed under a blanket. I have to admit, I mostly stared out the windows as the rain dripped down the glass and tapped on the roof. The creek roared outside the window. I let myself feel soothed by the smells and sounds and comfort I find in my little sanctuary.

By the end of the afternoon, I was ready to head back inside. Mr. FixIt had fixed a wonderful meal of baked chicken, potatoes, and asparagus. I felt like I’d had a vacation after spending the night and most of the day in the camper. Those quiet times of reflection, prayer, and meditation develop my faith, too.....slowly, quietly, peacefully.

❤️

“And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him.”
1 John 5:14-15 ESV

Day 40: Coping During Corona Through Mental Health Services

Sat, 25 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

By now you all know I am no stranger to psychotherapy. And, I have zero interest in hiding the fact that I coped with a serious seven year bout of clinical depression. There were so many intrinsic factors, most of which I don’t go into great detail about merely to protect the privacy of others. Suffice it to say, it was a perfect storm and it wasn’t pretty. It was hard and difficult to work through. I am so grateful that once I found the right therapist for me, the work became easier and affected permanent change.

That isn’t to say I never needed to see a therapist again. I returned to grief counseling nine months after Mr. Virgo died. I needed EMDR therapy for the PTSD caused by witnessing what my husband went through from the moment he began to have symptoms in a RV dealership parking lot to the prolonged CPR in the ER to the doctor coming out from the cardiac cath lab to say they did everything they could. I saw the grief therapist for about six months before I sold my house and left Colorado.

I would say I’ve had two...maybe three visits with her since 2014...either in person or over the phone. There is nothing shameful about seeking the help of a mental health professional. It is not a sign of weakness. If anything, it shows remarkable courage to face your inner demons and get some help dealing with whatever it is bothering you. My faith has been the raft that carries me over the waves. My therapy has been the wind God sent to move me forward.

In the aftermath of coronavirus, we are going to see an epidemic of mental health issues. All of those on the frontline of this pandemic are going to be deeply affected by it...just as the soldiers of any war. The long hours, the many deaths, the fear of contaminating family members...these are all things that will have to be worked through. There will be issues in every aspect of life...from the elderly in nursing homes all the way down to the littles who don’t understand why they can’t see their friends and their mommy cries.

I read an excellent article last night that talked about mental health services in the time of Corona and how you can reach out and get help even when you are self-isolating. There are numbers and websites and apps that can help connect you with a counselor to help walk you through this.

It’s ok if you need help. It’s ok if you can’t take it right now. It’s ok if you need to talk to someone with an empathetic and knowledgeable ear. You are not weak. You are not a failure.

You are not alone.

You can read the article HERE.

❤️

“The waters closed in over me to take my life; the deep surrounded me; weeds were wrapped about my head at the roots of the mountains. I went down to the land whose bars closed upon me forever; yet you brought up my life from the pit, O Lord my God. When my life was fainting away, I remembered the Lord, and my prayer came to you, into your holy temple.”
Jonah 2:5-7 ESV

Day 37: Easy Does It...Stay Home!

Wed, 22 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Princess Pumpkin holds court on the deck while we gaze with pride at the garden!

We have really been sticking close to home...a huge change for us. We usually make several trips to town every week but we are limiting it to no more than one. Of course, that means it’s a longer trip so we can do everything that needs doing. It’s mundane stuff...kitty litter, bird seed, prescriptions, post office, and the pool store to get chemicals during their yearly sale.

I was pleased to see you can have your prescriptions delivered to your car at Walmart. There were a couple of designated spots with a sign giving a number to call and let them know you’re there. It took about 10 minutes and we didn’t have to go inside. Same at the pool store. They came out to the truck and asked what we needed, went in and had it in the back of the truck in less than five minutes. The post office box is in the lobby and there were two people there...a man who held the door for me and a post office employees sanitizing everything. In and out in less than 60 seconds.

The only really trip inside was to Rural King. One set of doors for entering, the other to exit. They had an employee at each door. When one left another could enter. Since there were two of us, we had to wait for the second person to leave. We made a bee line to the back, waited in line for five minutes...six feet apart and with masks. Our reward for the day was walking a mile in the park. We ran into one of our classmates halfway through and he continued with us at the required distance. It was nice to see a friendly face.

Today is the 50th Anniversary of Earth Day! Our garden is tilled. The tomatoes are loving the big window in the family room and have grown to double their size in two weeks. They are putting out blossoms and in order for them to set, I need to pollinate them with a Q-Tip since we don’t have bees inside. Only one blossom has opened. More will open today so I can touch the stamens from one to another with the Q-Tip to pollinate the flowers so they produce fruit.

Every time I go to the store, I pick up a couple of cases of canning jars. I used to have a couple hundred of them back in the day, but that was one of the things that went by the wayside when I downsized six years ago. Rural King had an excellent assortment and related canning supplies at affordable prices. I’m really looking forward to gardening this year. In a few weeks, I can get my flowers for the pots on the patio. Usually I’m gone so much of the summer, I don’t get to do any of that stuff but this is shaping up to be a stay-at-home year, I’m afraid.

I know you are watching the Covid coverage, as we all are. There are so many schools of thought surrounding opening back up. I know I’m coming from a fairly comfortable position not having to get back to work. I know people are struggling financially. But I am erring on the side of caution. I don’t have anyplace to go in a hurry and I certainly have plenty to do here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to continue to isolate and take every precaution I can. I pray there isn’t a second wave, but if history serves and the Influenza Pandemic of 1918 is any indication...there will be. Many, many more died in the second wave. I really feel we have to move forward with caution...but that’s just my medical background talking and the advice of advanced epidemiologists.

In the meantime, I plan my garden...I stock up on canning supplies...I clean and organize...and the electrical designer comes out today to give us her recommendations for “Camp Marshmallow”! It will be cool and rainy today...a perfect day to bake an apple pie and put a pork roast in the oven for supper.

Easy does it!

❤️

“As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy.”
1 Timothy 6:17 ESV

Day 34: We Are in the Same Storm...NOT the Same Boat

Sun, 19 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

We are all caught in the same storm...but not in the same boat.

Let me preface this by stating this is not an original thought. I mean, really...IS there such a thing anymore? No, I read something yesterday on Facebook that someone forwarded. It was attributed to an “Unknown Author” so, who knows? If you wrote it or know for certain who did, let me know so I can give credit where credit is due.

The premise of the post was the pandemic and where we factor in it. I’m sure we all have read “We are in the same boat!” That couldn’t be further from the truth. “We’ll get through this together!” Oh, that I truly pray for. But in the same boat? Nope. We’re in the same storm. And even that is somewhat different. The storm in Washington state and Florida and New York and Texas and New Orleans is far different than Montana and Wyoming and North Dakota and even here in West Virginia.

The only thing that is absolute is, we are facing the same enemy...Covid-19. That’s the storm we are collectively facing. For some, it’s hardly a blip on the radar screen. For others, it’s a Class V Hurricane. To say we are all in the same boat is totally inaccurate. We are all in our own boats...sailing along as best we can with what’s being thrown our way. It’s a crapshoot where the dice will land when they're tossed our way.

Some of us are riding this wave with life vests out the wazoo. Money in the bank, food in the larder, a mortgage free home. It’s pretty much business as usual with a little more time at home than we’re used to. Maybe we don’t get the choicest cut of meat or they were out of our favorite wine. Maybe our biggest challenge is getting oh so bored with the menu at Chez Home Kitchen or we’ve gone through our DVR’s backlog of “must see” shows we always wanted to catch up on.

Others have always been a paycheck away from hunger or homelessness. We’ve got parents teaching their children through online learning on top of working their own 10-12 hour day online...if we’re lucky enough to have a job, period. Some of us don’t have sweet and tender spouses ready to be there to back us up in our darkest time of need. Some of us have suffered abuse at night but at least had those hours on the job as a way to escape the blows for a while. Some of our children are facing hunger now more than ever...maybe for the first time in their little lives. Maybe the weight of the crises between moms and dad is spilling over and the littles are catching the brunt of it in ways we cannot imagine.

We are NOT in the same boat. The single mom with three kids that’s trying to figure out how to keep her family together is not the same as the retired couple sipping their martini and watching the evening news together in their neat and tidy mansion on the 9th hole of the local country club.

We are NOT in the same boat. The dad who works three jobs to put food on the table and finds himself standing in a food bank line for 10 hours to receive a sack of groceries the likes of which others can pick up at the corner market without a second thought.

We are NOT in the same boat. Blacks and Latinos are dying in far greater numbers simply because their demographic puts them at a higher risk for disease.

We ARE, however, in the same storm...more or less. We are facing a formidable foe. I pray we get through this together. But some of us won’t. Many of us won’t.

We are seeing exactly what I told you we would see. I told you, if the numbers didn’t turn out to be the mega-catastrophic death tolls originally predicted, we would have people screaming that we over-reacted. I told you this would happen if the curve flattened but it’s not because we over-reacted. It’s because the safety measures we put in place did their jobs. This debate will rage for months...could more lives have been saved if we started earlier? Did we do enough? Did we do too much? Where and when did the virus actually start? Since we didn’t have enough tests, what is the actually number of patients infected?

Now we are seeing protests of the shutdown and some officials are easing restrictions in what others see as too soon and with reckless abandon. Just the other day I wrote a post about gaslighting and we are seeing more and more of that, too. Changes will come at a dizzying speed and it’s going to be hard to keep up. Throw a presidential election in the mix and...holy cats...what a mess.

It’s not all gloom and doom, though. Look at how folks are rallying around the people on the front lines. Look at how people are contributing and volunteering and organizing. As Mrs. Rogers told her little boy...”Look for the helpers.” They're out there and they are doing good things. There are positive things coming from this. People are searching out ways to be of service.

If you’re still having trouble finding a ray of hope, try this. There wasn’t a single school shooting in all of March 2020...the first March since 2002 to not see one.

That is a sobering thought.

Maybe, just maybe....maybe we don’t WANT to go back to normal.

Maybe this is our chance to change. This is our do-over.

I had to do it after Mr. Virgo died. I had to create a whole new normal. A whole new world. A whole new identity. Heck, if I...in all my messy dysfunction...could work with God and create something as beautiful as the life I’m living, anything is possible.

Anything.

❤️

““Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:18-19 ESV

#StartingOver, #Healing, #Coronavirus

Day 30: Cognitive Dissonance and My World View

Wed, 15 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

It’s a fine line we walk these days.

Since we’ve been on the topic of mental health, we might as well broach one of the biggest crazy-makers there is. Cognitive Dissonance. I am not an expert, but I have a general understanding of this psychological concept. And it’s something that actually hurts my brain.

It takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round. If we were all alike it would be a pretty boring world. There was a time in the not so distant past that people disagreed with each other...usually in politics or religion...and could still practice civil discourse without going off the rails in a temper tantrum. There was a time when civility and grace was a valued character trait.

For me, Cognitive Dissonance shows up when I look at the world today versus, say...when Mr. Virgo died seven years ago. My long held world view does not match the view of the world I see today. It’s like I woke up in some George Orwell novel or something. Or a twisted version of Oz where the Wizard is an even bigger monster behind the curtain.

I’m not necessarily referring to party politics here, but the general state of humanity. This warp in my vision is highly disconcerting and makes me feel uncomfortable. But, it doesn’t make me pull a nutty and go off on perfect strangers via social media. It doesn’t make me scream obscenities at others because our views clash.

I can experience this level of discomfort and form a resolve to do what I can to help change the world. At the same time, I have to recognize there are others who are just as uncomfortable with my views as I am of theirs. It’s time to separate the wheat from the chaff. We have an opportunity here in the midst of the pandemic to come together with a little grace and poise and acceptance of our differences. We can...we MUST work together for the common good or we are lost.

I own a square foot of this world. It’s the place where I stand. It is from my square foot plot that I can build my platform. It is from my platform that I can serve others. It is in serving others that I find grace within. It is grace that will be perceived as kindness. It is kindness that demonstrates love. And, it is love that is the very foundation of life.

May we all stand firmly on our square foot of ground and bring love and peace to the world. May this period spent in time out not be for nuthin’.

❤️

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”
Ephesians 4:1-3 ESV

Day 20: A Lesson From Nature and a Song for Your Heart

Sun, 05 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

A tree finds a way to grow in the harshest of environments.

Yesterday was so beautiful on The Ponderosa. The forsythia and flowering quince are at their peak of color. The pear tree out front is so full of delicate white blossoms the limbs bend. The grass in the fields has filled in with a spring green that shocks the eyes in the glare of the sun. All around us, the woods are filling in...first the underbrush, then the trees budding. It is a sight to behold and one that brings peace and comfort to my soul. It brings promise in the midst of an ugly scourge that is threatening the world. The dichotomy between the microcosm of my world and the painful specter that is New York, Italy, and countless other locales Boggles the mind.

We spent the biggest portion of yesterday outside. I cleaned out my truck to prepare it for the body shop on Monday. The camping gear was sadly put away for now. We had a socially distanced visit with some family in the driveway. Our first great grandson is getting SO big and it was really hard not to run and scoop him up in my arms. Fortunately, he is too young to understand all this and was happy to sit in the seat of their Jeep and play patty-cake with me.

As I went about my day, cleaning and organizing, I watched the birds swoop in to the bird feeders. Mr. FixIt put up the hummingbird feeder and we are anxiously awaiting our first sighting. The flowering shrubs are so heavily laden with honey bees, you can hear them buzzing from twenty feet away. It does my heart good to see the bees. I think there are more this year than usual, which is a good sign.

Nature can teach us many things during times of duress. Nature almost always finds a way to survive, even in the harshest of environments. So can we. Nature displays beauty at every turn, even when the going gets rough. So can we. Nature follows a set script of seasons and there is a time for every purpose. There is for us, as well. It’s just that, now we have this thing...this aberrant monster that we can’t control. And that is disconcerting. Disheartening. Discouraging.

Even in the most difficult moments of our lives, we can find courage, we can seek beauty, and we can display kindness. In my search for Christine Lavin’s song about adjusting your dreams, I stumbled upon another of her works. At first, I was a bit afraid to listen as the title is “As Bad As It Gets”. She wrote it for someone she loved very much who was going through a devastating medical crisis. When I listened to it, I thought to myself it was something I wish I would have found early on in my grief. I find it comforting in the light of where we are right now and thought I would share it with you here this morning. Christine sent it to me to share in the hope that it helps you.

“As Bad As It Gets” by Christina Lavin: https://vimeo.com/233368854

❤️

“And his disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."”

John 9:2-5 ESV

#Struggles, #Coronavirus, #Faith, #ChristineLavin

Day 13: Say His Name...Not in Vain

Sun, 29 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Sometimes a verse suddenly takes on new meaning.

I was reading my devotional yesterday morning. I have to admit, I haven’t been as focused on my Bible reading as I should be as my attention is being drawn in every different direction. Now, more than at any other time...NOW is the most important time to sit with God and have those deep conversations that can bring such peace to a weary heart. So, I’m trying harder to corral my wandering ADD spirit and rein it back in.

Yesterday’s devotion focused on Exodus 20:7...

“You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain.”
Exodus 20:7 ESV

If your grandma was like my grandma, you remember what happened if the exclamation “Oh, my God!” slipped out. You might have found yourself with a sliver of soap in your mouth or a swat on the behind...or worse, the shame of disappointing your favorite champion.

As I got older and thought I was oh-so-wise, I drifted away from that fuddy-duddy old church because I thought I knew better than they did. I was crude and crass and ugly in many, many ways. And OMG slipped out as easily as far too many other epithets. My ears burn when I think of the things my children heard coming out of my mouth. Eventually, I woke up and got it together. But I still relate Exodus 20:7 to using the Lord’s name to swear. That is, until I read my devotional yesterday morning.

Isn’t it wonderful when you read a verse you’ve read a hundred times and it suddenly means something completely different?

The premise is this:

When we become a Christian, we take on God’s name and wear it as our identity. If we do not “walk the talk”, our behavior doesn’t reflect what we are proclaiming with our mouths. In this way, we take the name of the Lord in vain because we aren’t being honest...with Him, with each other, and with ourselves. I found that to be an interesting perspective and thought I would share it with you today.

Church is still online. I read something the other day that said this time of working remotely may change the way we do business in the future. We used to think going to the office was the best way. But maybe it isn’t. Maybe if more people can work remotely, pollution can be cut down which would positively impact our environment. I don’t know about teaching at home...especially for young children. Learning socialization skills is just as important as math and spelling.

One thing that won’t be replaced is gathering together in places of worship. I’ve enjoyed hearing my pastor online, but it just cannot replace the community bond of corporate worship. We will continue to learn and grow and evaluate what changes we can make in our way of life that will better the world. There will always be resistance to change, but change can be for our own as well as the greater good.

❤️

“Who can discern his errors? Declare me innocent from hidden faults.”
Psalms 19:12 ESV

Day 12: When it Rains, it Rains and Rains and Rains!

Sat, 28 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

A raised bed garden is easier on your back and keeps the veggies away from rabbits, etc.

We are heading into what is one of the wettest times of the year in West Virginia. At the same time, the temperature is beginning to rise and that combo is what wakes up the grass and gets it growing. Every spring there are funny memes of people trying to mow the lawn in scuba gear. Sometimes it’s hard to get the garden plowed if you didn’t jump on it in early March. Then you have to wait for it to dry so you can plant. I’m not complaining, mind you. At least we aren’t planning to have more snow or hard freezes at this point like what I was used to in Colorado.

With the pandemic, and the resultant shock waves going through the economy, it looks like we may be staying put here for a while. If I am anything, it’s flexible. And Lord knows we are all going to need to embrace that trait in the foreseeable future. We are blessed with a home and land and safety. There’s no need to rush into anything right now. Besides, that will take the pressure off and we can take our time fixing this place up.

With all that in mind, Mr. FixIt and I have been talking about having a bigger garden here at The Ponderosa. I’m picking up a case of canning jars every time I go to the store. I bought a new gasket (plus a spare) for the pressure canner. One of the problems with growing a garden in the country is the wildlife that stand around waiting for the salad bar to open. We have tons of rabbits and they eat my green beans every year. We also have deer. In the past, Mr. FixIt grew a big garden here and used an electric fence to keep the deer out. I’ve been looking at a setup like the one pictured above...at least for the salad stuff that the rabbits get into. I don’t know how big we’ll actually go, but I really like the idea of the raised beds. It’s better on your back.

A couple of years ago, we bought a shaded gazebo for the deck by the pool. We didn’t put it up last summer because we thought we would be pushing to get the house on the market and wanted to save it for the new house. Since that isn’t happening right away, I think we’ll go ahead and do that when the weather clears up a bit. There’s still the bathroom to finish. And the drain at the bottom of the outdoor stairwell to enlarge and install a sump pump. And then the second bathroom and the wallpaper in the dining room needs to come off. The list goes on and on. I’m hoping when the pandemic eases and gathering restrictions are lifted, we can get the boys out here to help us get some of these big jobs completed.

As I sit here in our home, safe and secure, and for all I know...healthy and virus free...I count my many blessings. As of this writing, no one I know is affected by the virus itself...just the inconvenience of isolation. I’ve been video chatting with the family. I pray a lot...every day. I limit myself to NBC Nightly News with Lester Holt...thirty minutes with an uplifting story at the end. It’s all I can take.

The other night, when I was admittedly overdosing on news and watching every update, I was sitting here writing my post and all of a sudden, I just went numb. My hearing was muffled. My skin was tingling. My heart was pounding. I wasn’t necessarily frightened. I didn’t feel the surge of adrenalin like I usually feel if I’m having an anxiety reaction or panic attack. I felt detached...like a casual observer. My inner spirit told me what was happening. I was overwhelmed. I was grieving. I’ve been passively watching life as we’ve known it fall apart and it felt way too familiar. I closed my eyes and leaned back and listened to my body cry out to me for mercy. So, I talked back. I soothed my fear. I reminded myself that God is still here...He is always here. I concentrated on my breathing and feeling the air as it moved in and out of my nostrils. I reminded myself I was safe here. Nothing was happening to me in this moment. Mr. FixIt was safe, too. I reminded myself that, even though there are so many things going on right now that are out of my control, there are still many things I can do to feel more at ease.

When people tell you to just count your blessings, they aren’t necessarily trying to be dismissive of your fear. I have found the action of actually counting my blessing to be soothing. Directing your thoughts to something in the here and now can get you off the runaway train of fear. Looking around the room and naming five things. Closing your eyes and counting five sounds...five smells...five textures can bring you down off the ledge of anxiety. As I went through this exercise, I could feel the numbness leave and my heart rate slowed down. My hearing came back clear and I was fine.

I may have to talk myself down off the ledge any number of times in the coming weeks. I don’t know. What I do know is...we are ok. We are safe. We are here. And, we are planning a garden for when the brighter days come.

❤️

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
Isaiah 43:2 ESV

Day 10: Remember the Good Ol’ Days?

Thu, 26 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

A kitchen from long, long ago. Could you live like this again if you had to? Who will teach the skills to the younger generations who may want to learn them? I don’t see us returning to these times, per se. but we could sure stand to live a little less frenetically and lot more self-sufficiently.

When someone says “Remember the good ol’ days?” now, they could just as easily be referring to last month than 100 years ago. Remember when we could go out to the movies? Remember when we could eat at restaurants? I love reminiscing and looking at old photos like this one. It reminds me of what they called “a simpler time”. But was it, really?

Look at this kitchen. That stove didn’t get started with the turn of a knob. Someone had to cut, haul, and chop wood. They had to split kindling and stack it all near the back door. This was done every day or you ate cold food. With those boots under the stove, I’d say there are some hard working men and boys in that house and they eat a ton of food. That woman is cooking three squares and baking all her own bread and biscuits. She had to tend a garden, preserve the food, store it properly. Hopefully there are a couple of other young girls around to help with the washing and cleaning and all the other jobs on the farm.

I believe that is the family “washing machine” the woman is using. This must have been an incredible convenience item to relieve her of scrubbing heavy wet work clothes on a washboard. The water had to be toted from the well, stream, cistern, or spring. It had to be heated in large pots on that stove. She had to save up the ash from the wood stove to make lye. She also saved the lard from butchering and rendered it for use in baking, cooking, and making assorted salves and soaps.

That woman was the family doctor. She gathered herbs and medicinal plants, using knowledge handed down from generation to generation. She may have been the only midwife in a twenty mile radius. She milked the dairy cow out behind the barn...twice a day...and raised the cream to churn butter. Her sewing rocker is in the kitchen. Here is where she read her bible as the biscuits rose. She sewed and mended her family’s clothing to conserve them for longer wear. When they couldn’t be mended anymore, she cut them up and sewed the pieces together to make quilts.

There wasn’t a lot of socializing in this day and age. There might be women who gathered for a quilting bee or to throw a wedding or a funeral. A woman valued those precious moments she shared with other women. The children were sent out of the house after breakfast and they came home at supper time. They walked to church and the one room schoolhouse down the road....maybe miles away. Or, if they were really lucky, they might have a horse or two...or maybe even a wagon for when they needed to make longer trips.

I show pictures like this to my grandkids and they just stare at it like it’s an alien planet. I was looking at the woman in the picture. My first thought was, this is the grandma. And, it could be. But I wouldn’t doubt it a bit if that’s the mom. All that hard work and all those babies made the womenfolk age well beyond their years.

I would never call this “a simpler time” in regard to the work that was put in on a daily basis. Yet, compared to the manic hustle most people live with today, I would say it is simpler in many ways. I had to smile the other day. Daughter #2, who showed very little interest in learning anything “old timey” when she was growing up called to say this pandemic has made her think about her life and how she’s living it. She wants to raise a garden. She would like to learn how to be more self-sufficient. Her mama is SO excited by this!!! I sent her pictures of the Encyclopedia of Country Living and the Ball Book of Food Preservation. This is a common ground I have longed to share with my kids.

This pandemic is scary as heck. And it’s shaken many of us to the core. But, as I’ve been saying from the beginning, there will be gems in the flames of this. There will be great sadness, and there will also be great revolution. I hope we have awakened a sleeping giant.

❤️

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”
Proverbs 16:9 ESV

Day 8: This Little Piggy Stayed Home

Tue, 24 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Be like this little piggy and stay home!

We had to go out again yesterday...this time to a doctor visit. The news was good...Mr. FixIt has a heart! And it’s in pretty good shape for a guy his age. After Losing Mr. Virgo to a sudden heart attack, and then Mr. FixIt had the stroke...I pretty much insisted they do a cardiac work up. We are breathing an even bigger sigh of relief over here.

The governor of West Virginia ordered us to “stay-at-home” beginning this evening. Except for the doctor, the emergency room, the grocery or pharmacy, gas stations, construction stores...you know, all the places we normally gone anyway. He even said it was fine to go to the state parks and go fishing! Other than restaurants, not much has changed as far as where we are allowed to go. What HAS changed is the going.

I was thinking about this yesterday. What is it about being told to do something, like stay at home, and the only thing in the whole wide world you want to do is NOT stay at home. BUT...have a busy week of running errands and having appointments and the only thing you want is to just have a day at home with no trips to town. It’s crazy. It’s like being told to take a nap as a toddler. Now I’d give up a lot just to take a nap!

Governors are resorting to this extra measure because just telling people to stay home wasn’t working. Because there’s an inordinate amount of people who think rules don’t apply to them. They are merely suggestions...more like guidelines, really. They say you can get a ticket if you’re out and about but I ask you, what good would that do when all you have to say is -I’m going to the grocery store-?

Daughter #2 is an anxious sort. She is so much like her mama in so many ways. I wish I could have given my kids anything but anxiety and depression. It is what it is. She called last evening and I recognized that quivering “I’m fine” tone of voice. So, I talked her down off the ledge and she felt stronger and more in control by the time we rang off. We talked about everything...from ways to conserve toilet paper to what was the name of that book you were telling me about.

We talked about making plans and writing them down. What do you want to accomplish this week? This month? Six months? A year? She wants to be more self-sufficient so she doesn’t have to worry so much. Good. Check with the City of Denver...can you have chickens? Look for used pallets you can turn into a chicken coop. You want a garden? Great! Start planting seeds in peat pots so you’ll have seedlings to plant when the weather warms up. Mark out where you want a garden and get your exercise spading it up.

We have to be proactive regarding our mental health during crises such as this. Just because we need to stay at home doesn’t mean we need to stay inside 24/7. Even if you only walk around your house or your building or down your block and back, getting some fresh air in the middle of the day does wonders for your spirits. Build a routine. Set your clock for mental health breaks. Drink a cup of soothing herbal tea. Play some music and sing along. Take a bubble bath. Draw a picture. If you sew, look up how to make masks for people since there is a critical shortage.

You might want to practice a little social distancing from your refrigerator. Packing on a few pounds during this quarantine won’t help your health and you certainly won’t feel better. Try on a pair of jeans every few days to make sure they fit. As my dear friend Deneene says, sweats or pajama pants will trick you into believing all is well in the kingdom. I was going to make an apple pie last night, but then I decided not to. We had already had two pies in the last ten days. I’ve been losing weight and I don’t want to put it back on. We can have treats...just once or twice a week, not every day.

Humans are a resourceful lot. We can figure out other ways to do things. We can make something out of nothing. We can recycle, reuse, repurpose just about anything. We’ve become pretty complacent in this life. I know I have. But, my years of reading Mother Earth News and the Encyclopedia of Country Living have been preparing me for a moment such as this. Some of us may not get through this. Those of us that do must take it upon themselves to apply the lessons learned so that we might not be caught so flat-footed next time. When I meditated on this last night, a thought came to me.

My friend Uma Girish was preparing to facilitate a group call when she asked her inner guidance what she should share. This is what she received:

“The virus is not the enemy. The virus is The Messenger.”

Yes...the virus can be horrifying. Yes...people can and will die. But it brings us a message...loud and clear.

Raise your head and look beyond where you stand so you might better prepare for what is coming.

Remember what is really important in this life.

Look at what we are doing to our world...to the environment. We are slowly killing it and now...it is rapidly attacking us.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Cause and effect. I don’t think it’s too late, but we’re going to have to make some big changes and we all know...while change is good, it is not always easy. Change, we must. We have no other choice now.

Maybe God’s just putting us in a time out so we can think about what we have done to the garden He gave us.

❤️

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
Philippians 2:4 ESV

Day Five: Love in the Time of CoVid

Sat, 21 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Blackberry pie...sunshine in a slice!

Thankfully we didn’t need to venture to town yesterday. Instead, we took a drive over to the farm to check in. Oh...what an amazingly warm day it was. I actually saw the thermometer at 79! All was well at the home place. The daffodils are blooming as are the forsythia and the flowering quince. The irises are shooting their flat, sword-like blades out from the wet, awakening earth. As you drive out through the country, the bushes along the roadsides are gaining a green, ghostly hue as the leaves begin to form.

This is rockslide season and we saw evidence of several...one was actually encroaching on the road. The highway crew hadn’t gotten to it yet. It is supposed to get chilly again this weekend and then I wouldn’t be surprised if we stay in the high 50’s, low 60’s for a while. I don’t think there’s much of a chance of having another freeze this spring.

Speaking of spring, with all the madness going on in the world, I totally missed the first day of spring! It’s here...even though it is highly overshadowed this time.

I read something yesterday that someone shared. It was a letter to the humans from the vantage point of the CoVid-19 virus. It spoke of how we haven’t been paying attention. We have been so busy chasing after stuff and working to achieve a lifestyle that is unsustainable, that finally the earth broke. There were horrific wildfires and we looked on with morbid curiosity and counted our blessings it wasn’t us. There were deadly hurricanes and we sighed and looked on with a tinge of sadness at the devastation. Then our attention shifted elsewhere and the thoughts and prayers were replaced with the next thing in the news cycle.

We as a people are so self-centered. We look out for number one. Maybe, just maybe this virus swooped in to get our attention...to wake us up to the devastation around us. To how unhealthy the world has become. And if the world is unhealthy, WE are unhealthy.

I saw a picture of a mega freeway in Los Angeles. There were eight cars on it. I think someone said it hadn’t seen that little traffic since the Watts Riots of 1965. I commented that maybe Mother Earth is going to be able to catch her breath. Maybe the skies will clear. Maybe the sun will shine a little brighter. Maybe the waters will freshen a little. Maybe the pH in the rain will normalize and the fish will flourish.

Maybe the quiet stillness will give us time to stop the frenetic pace we have set for ourselves and we can really connect with our family members...even if it’s through a window or over the phone or FaceTime. I’ve already noticed more caring for each other. Children are checking in with their parents to see how they’re doing. They are offering to run errands or go to the store. Strangers are helping strangers.

This is a time like no other we have faced. But, our grandparents and great grandparents were called to war. They were bombed and food was rationed. They grew victory gardens and knitted socks for troops. All we are being asked to do is stay home. While the threat of the disease itself is terribly disconcerting, we can do things to help prevent the spread.

I’ve heard the youngsters say, “Ah, it’s not going to affect me. It’s just the Boomers.” Well, first of all, no. It’s not just the Boomers. They are finding people much younger than they first thought are getting sick and some seriously. And...who do you think those Boomers (and the generation or so after them) are? They are the doctors, scientists, financial wizards, farmers...the experts. The ones who hold the keys to a great deal of knowledge. Those who say they’re “just Boomers” had better learn a whole lot pretty darned quickly.

I’m having nightmares. I rarely remember dreams, but I’m having dreams of death and dying. Too much news. Too much information. I had to step back and stop watching as much of it. I have to limit myself to a half hour of news a day. Just to stay up to speed with any breaking news. To counteract the bombardment of bad news, I’m putting in twice as much good.

Yesterday, I baked a pie. I went to the farm and sat in my grandma’s chair. I did an hour of meditation/yoga on Facebook Live with my dear Earth Mother yogi friend, Sue in Colorado. I snuggled the kitty. I walked around our property with Mr. FixIt. I made BBQ pulled pork sandwiches for supper and pie for dessert. And I spent time studying my bible devotionals. It was a good day...even though the virus is creeping closer.

My God is bigger than any virus. He’s bigger than any of my stuff. When I remember who’s in charge here and how this story ends, even if I caught the virus and went to Heaven...I win. Because HE won...and I put my faith in HIM.

I will not be afraid.

You can watch my friend Sue’s movement meditation video here.

❤️

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”
Psalms 19:14 ESV

Day Four: Holy Cats...It’s Feel Good Friday!!!

Fri, 20 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

You can’t hide from “Feel Good Friday!”

One of the benefits of living in West Virginia is the rural nature of things makes social distancing pretty easy. After all...it’s what we’ve done for generations. It isn’t a big stretch for Mr. FixIt and me to hang around The Ponderosa or The Farm, but we do normally take several trips a week into town. We decided yesterday, the biggest change we’ve seen in our lives is not getting to dine out. I didn’t realize how often we eat meals away from home till that little luxury was taken away.

We had to make a trip to town yesterday. We got the estimate on the damage to the truck...to the tune of $3,000! Yikes! Thank God for insurance. Mr. FixIt had a doctor’s appointment. I was not allowed back with him. Have you ever accompanied a man to the doctor?

“So, how are things going?”

“Good.”

“Are you having any problems?”

“No, not really.”

“How’s that back pain?”

“About the same.”

“Is that new medicine I gave you last time helping.”

“I think so.”

“Any questions?”

“Nope.”

“Ok, then...you’re looking great! Let’s see you back in about three months.”

“Ok.”

?‍♀️

When Lorie told me I had to stay in the waiting room, I looked at Mr. FixIt and narrowed my eyes.

“You’d darn well better tell him everything!”

He’s a good listener...he was in there forever. And he came out and addressed every single thing I would have wanted checked.

What’s the message here? Oh...that he’s a grown man and can take care of himself in his appointments? Of course he can. Sheesh. But, that being said, men...no matter how diligent they are...sometimes forget the details of the conversation. Or they don’t quite grasp the subtle nuances of a new medication direction. Having a second set of ears helps tremendously, especially when they belong to someone who loves you. I also have the experience of sitting with Mr. Virgo and having him say no to every test our doctor wanted him to have and he was dead five months later. So, yeah...there’s that.

We went to Walmart to pick up some prescriptions and bought a new tire for the truck. It wasn’t very crowded and everyone was practicing social distancing. We didn’t hang around long though and we hightailed it back home where I prepared a sumptuous dinner of steak, broccoli, and baked potato.

There is always something to feel good about. For instance, yesterday Lester Holt told us to leave those boxes from Amazon outside for 24 hours because the virus can’t live that long on cardboard. He also said to wear gloves when you open the boxes because many of the products come from China. Why do I feel good about this? Well, I’ve been trying to cut down on my online (sometimes comfort) shopping and this is the perfect time. We can free up all those workers in the Amazon warehouses to focus on getting medical goods and critical supplies shipped and not have to worry about my books or batteries or what have you. And, I’ll be saving more money and who doesn’t need to be doing more of THAT right about now, am I right?

Another feel good thing...people are talking nicer to each other. At least, that’s been my experience these last few weeks. We are finally getting back a little of that “we’re all in this thing together” vibe and I don’t think it’s humanly possible to have my fill of that! Letting people in line in front of you. Standing back and letting someone have the first choice of a piece of meat...even if that means you don’t get the one you had your eye on. Texts and phone calls and “I love you’s”...these are the sweet sounds of compassion I’ve been yearning for so desperately the last few years.

I was telling someone yesterday that I listened to NY’s Governor Cuomo address the coronavirus on TV and he spoke so kindly. He was efficient and honest and came across as trustworthy and compassionate. When he spoke...even without listening to what he was saying...his voice was soothing, calming. He told folksy stories as a way to humanize this pandemic and allay our fears. I seriously felt my emotions well up in my chest and the sting of tears as I realized...we don’t hear enough of that. And we’re getting beat down because of it. Let’s not wait for the powers that be to be kind and compassionate. Let’s take the bull by the horns and do that ourselves.

This is exactly how we make THE WORLD great again. Because, all we’ve got is God and each other. And dogs. We’ve got dogs. Oh, and cats, and birds, and.......

❤️

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

Keeping our Distance: Day 2

Wed, 18 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

This is a time to look out for one another.

Honestly, our life here at The Ponderosa BCV (before Coronavirus) and ACV (after Coronavirus) isn’t that much different. That’s mainly because we are retired. I think we are affected more by Mr. FixIt’s continued recovery from his stroke than we are the global pandemic. We have been taking turns making breakfast. (He makes the BEST oats!)

Up until late afternoon, West Virginia was official the only state without a confirmed case of COVID-19. Governor Justice announce there has been on confirmed case over in the Eastern Panhandle. However, I have a friend from high school...a retired nurse. She says her son and daughter-in-law tested positive last week in Morgantown and it was never reported. So, who knows what’s really going on.

West Virginia runs 50th in so many things, it looks like we are running 50th in the number of tests being performed as well. You know it has to be here. All we can to is practice good hygiene and social distancing.

The garage called today and my truck was ready so we went to pick it up. While it took the guy a week-and-a-half to finish, it cost a third of what it would have at the dealership.

We watched the news together, but only to hear if there are more directives. I baked a pie with some blackberries from the freezer and made a casserole of pork roast, veggies and noodles. We are determined to eat through all the fresh stuff before it goes bad so we don’t waste a thing.

After dessert, I excused myself to write my post. I sat and thought about what we should talk about tonight. Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day. Mr. Virgo loved St. Patrick’s Day. Just about every year, I had to go buy green food coloring at the last minute so the bar could serve green beer. These memories make me smile. However, Mr. Virgo was buried the day before St. Patrick’s Day. And that always makes me think.

He warned me before he died that bad things were going to start happening in this country. Things with politics, finances, and health. He said it felt like a rubber band was drawing too tight or like a balloon being overfilled. I don’t know if he had a premonition, or if it was just his love of history and world events that spurred him, but he was constantly telling me to be prepared.

I wanted to believe him, but it seemed so fantastical at the time. Still, his warnings have never left me and I do find myself more prepared than I might have been before. I have friends who have lost spouses in the last year....two in the last week. When I think back over the months after losing Mr. Virgo...it was so terribly difficult to cope. And that was in a stable world. I cannot imagine what these people are going through without their person. To try to navigate this AND actively grieve is an unbearable thought.

It doesn’t just take a death to trigger grief. You may be grieving the loss of security the COVID-19 virus is bringing to our lives. When things happen beyond our control, it can trigger grief reactions and PTSD. When I begin to feel frightened, I change my focus back to God and remind myself...no matter what happens here, He will never leave me. Even with that, I walk around with a little knot in the pit of my stomach. I take all the unknowns that I have no control over and put them in the God box and set outside the front door.

All in all, we are doing just fine. We’re just taking it one day at a time.

So, how are things with you in your world. Are you feeling ok? What are you doing with your time? How have things changed for you in the last couple of weeks? Let me hear from you...tell me how you're doing.

❤️

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭2:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

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

What Happens if Nothing Happens?

Mon, 16 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

This is what most of our stores looked like this weekend. It won’t always be this way.

We’ve been listening intently to the news. We’ve followed every story, listened to every nightmarish tale, seen and heard things we wish we’d never seen or heard. We’ve pillaged the stores in a way that would make a Viking proud. We’ve hoarded toilet paper, hand sanitizer, gloves, masks, and cleaners. Our pantries are stocked with everything from diapers to donuts. We’ve got every medicine available for every eventuality. The schools are closed. The stores are cutting back hours to give the staff enough time to restock. The hospitals are rationing supplies and making contingency plans for every possible scenario. And so...we wait.

We are socially distancing ourselves. We are staying home...away from crowds and germs. We are binge watching every series on Netflix that sparks our interest. We are learning new skills. We are putting away food and reading. We are checking in on those who might need our help. We are watching church online or on television. We are reaching out with phone calls and texts and, dare I say...handwritten letters.

And...we wait.

And wait some more.

What happens if...after we’ve waited and waited and sacrificed and been inconvenienced... What happens if...nothing happens? No big surge of disease. No drastic sudden influx of all these “hundreds of thousands of sick people?”

I’ll tell you what SHOULD happen. We should breathe a HUGE sigh of relief because it means what we did...WORKED. It means we flattened the curve. It means we sacrificed our usual routines and made the most of it and we saved countless lives.

I know there will be a bunch of us who do that very thing. We’ll high five and say “Well done!” We’ll thank everyone in healthcare and the service industries. We will do our best to boost up the mom and pop business that took a hit from the shutdowns. We will praise our health officials who made difficult and unpopular decisions. And hopefully, we’ll remember to thank God for never leaving us in our darkest hours.

If we have an ounce of forethought...a shred of decency...a touch of humanity we WON’T be that person who stands up and screams that it was all a hoax. That the whole thing was conjured up to throw an election or to make any one person or party look bad. That is petty. We must be better than that.

If we gain anything...just one tiny thing from this whole meshugas...it’s that we start looking for the humanity in each other again. We need to start finding love and kindness again. We need to remember...we may be different wings, but we’re flying the same bird here. Please, for the love of God...let’s turn something that’s potentially terrible into something that helps us see the divine in each other.

Let’s let the legacy of the coronavirus be compassion.

❤️

“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

Stroke of Luck or Gift From Above?

Sat, 14 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I don’t believe it’s a “stroke of luck”. I believe it is a gift from above.

As I sat in bed the other night with my little lap desk and my iPad typing this, I had the windows open. At 9:00pm it was still in the mid-60’s and the peepers were calling from the ditch by the road that borders our property. The house was quiet...my husband was off bowling with his buddies. On his own. We have slowly increased his independence and he’s started driving a little. It is a great relief for him to return to some normalcy. It is a great relief to me that he can.

I saw this meme the other day, and as is my wont, saved it for a future post. I am always looking for something that triggers a good story. This one reminds me of a prayer I prayed fervently for three years after Hubby #2 and I split up. That was such a convoluted mess. There were so many factors that went into the way that whole thing came down. Long term depression. An over abundance of far-too-available medications. A psychiatrist who was a really nice guy, but not a great doctor. Two people who were emotionally unavailable for vastly different reasons. Like I said, it was a mess.

When we finally extricated ourselves from this dreadful dance and got some distance, I went on a crusade to “win him back...no matter what it took.” Let’s just say, that was not the healthiest decision I ever made but it was what I desperately wanted at the time. I prayed this prayer every day.

“God, please! Fix my family!”

Over and over I prayed these five words. I’d get hopeful, then my hopes were dashed. Finally, after three-and-a-half years...I let go and moved on. It was a slow and arduous process and not one without pratfalls. But eventually I found my balance and began to love myself and my life. Then Mr. Virgo came along.

And, just like that it seemed...he was gone.

His untimely and sudden death drew my closest family and friends around me to offer solace and comfort. I remember gathering for a family celebration and Hubby #2 was there with his wife. We were alone in the kitchen. I think we were having tea.

“Isn’t it a shame that it took the death of your husband to heal our family?”

I was stunned and at a loss for words. In that moment, it occurred to me...God answered that fervent prayer perfectly. He did it His way...in HIS time. It wasn’t at all how I thought I wanted it at the time I prayed that prayer. But it turned out exactly how it was meant to be.

I don’t believe in “luck”. I believe in God winks...moments when it is (or becomes) clear there is divine intervention involved in the circumstances of our lives. Honestly, if I had continued in the direction I was heading and stayed with Hubby #2, I am positive you and I wouldn’t be sitting here together today. You would be reading someone else’s words and I’d be pushing up daisies.

As it turns out, I was not meant to be in that marriage anymore. I was meant to run across Mr. Virgo and have that time with him to grow more...into who I was born to be. I cannot say I was meant to lose him. I can say it was his time to go. There is nothing good in that kind of loss. But I would be lying if I didn’t say there were gems in those flames. Flashes of insight. Inspiration and the courage to write. I developed a much closer relationship with God. And Mr. FixIt and I crossed paths again.

Life is a funny thing. We are brought here for a specific purpose...each with his or her own special gifts. I am convinced my purpose in life is to use my writing to help others and lift them up. I believe our primary purpose here as humans is to learn to love like Jesus does. The tapestry that is created from all the colorful threads of life is a wonder to behold. Looking back at it from the far side is a marvel to my eyes. I hope that, when I am gone, these hundreds of thousands of words I have written will still be of some comfort to others...to my family, to my friends, and to those who walk through fire in this life and come out the other side, forged by the flames into something powerful and glorious. And, if not glorious...then at least left standing to carry on another day.

❤️

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
Isaiah 43:2 ESV

Remembrance Day v.7.0

Thu, 12 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Look who came for a “visit” this week.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a picture of Mr. Virgo that I haven’t seen before. He was always the one behind the camera and didn’t really care to be in the limelight. One of our friends sent me the photo above earlier this week. She was the Human Resources Director at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen and was responsible for Mr. Virgo getting that job. Which, in turn, brought him to my geographical area. And, into the local “dating pool”. We met on an online dating site. I would say, “If it hadn’t been for her”...but I know who really lined us up and crossed our paths. It was a God thing.

When our friend left the Jerome, the staff made her a memory book, took everyone’s photos, then had them write a note. She texted it to me a couple of days ago. There was that element of surprise when I opened the text. I didn’t expect to see his handsome face looking back at me...that bright smile beaming. My instant response was tears welling up, rapidly followed with a warm smile.

“Well, hello there!” I thought. “Fancy seeing you here today.”

I smiled back at that sweet face. Sometimes, in the busyness of this new life, I forget what he looked like. Well, not really...but he doesn’t sit in the front row anymore. He doesn’t quite fade into the crowd either. He is perpetually in the wings...my Guardian Angel...watching over me and Mr. FixIt. I know in my heart of hearts that he is so happy for me. I know he is proud of me for putting this life together.

Seven years gone. I only had him in my life for seven-and-a-half years to begin with. He’s been gone almost as long as I had him. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like he was just a dream. But he was very real. My heart has healed a great deal in the seven years since Mr. Virgo died. I didn’t ever “get over him”. I learned how to carry his memory with me into this new life. He will be forever sixty-two. And here I am, rapidly approaching sixty-seven. I will age and move on and he will always look like he does in this picture. Handsome, healthy, happy, content. It makes me smile to know I had something to do with that.

Thanks for dropping in to see me this week, dear one. It’s been a while since you’ve said hello.

It’s probably for the best.

But, oh...I enjoyed the visit.

❤️

“Are they not all ministering spirits sent out to serve for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation?”
Hebrews 1:14 ESV

Shake Your Can

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

Wake it up and shake it up and change this world for the better!

Last Sunday, our Pastor delivered another wonderful message. This time he was talking about how we can get flat and stale in our faith after time. We can become complacent and go to church simply to be fed every week. We can get comfortable. We may think, “I’m saved...I’m good. I don’t need to _________ (fill in the blank...serve, share, invite, get involved). We can do that, of course. But, we could be so much more if we just shook things up.

If we wake it up and shake it up, God’s light in us will be so much brighter when we carry it out in the world. And, heaven knows...this world needs all the light it can get! The Pastor used a great visual. He had a can of soda in his hand when he asked a woman from the front row to come forward.

He showed the woman the can.

“Are you afraid of this can?”

“No,” she said.

He started shaking the can violently and poised to open it in front of her.

“How about now?”

The woman laughed and took a few steps back.

“Yeah...I’m afraid of it now!”

He made his point. The enemy doesn’t pay us much mind when we’re being complacent and doing enough to get by. He isn’t afraid of us. But shake us up and see what happens. That gets his attention because the last thing he wants is for us to be all up in it.

You wanna make a difference in this world?

Get up and shake your can!

❤️

“Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?”
Hebrews 1:14 NIV

Turning My Day Around

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

Poor Kitty got an abscess that needed to get fixed yesterday. She got a new body suit to protect her stitches.

First off, let me say that any penny ante thing that I had to deal with yesterday pales in comparison with how great it feels to see my sweetheart turning back into his sweet, handsome self. No one wants to hear those words...”You’ve had a stroke.” It takes the starch right out of you. It’s not only a physical blow, but a psychological one, as well. His hand is getting better every day. It’s no longer tingly...just a little numb. Improvement is wonderful. We’ll take that any day of the week! Thank you, Jesus!

That being said, I got up yesterday and went out to open the building so the kitty could go play and I knew right away something was wrong. She wouldn’t come out of her “kitty condo”...that warm bed I made for her when she arrived. I couldn’t even tempt her with her favorite treats. When I finally got her out, I ran my hands over her to find out if she had a sore place and she cried when I touched her left hind quarters.

I immediately put her in her carrier and went to get my purse. I told Mr. FixIt I was taking her to the vet. It was the first time I have left him since the stroke. He’s a grown man, I feel he’s out of immediate danger, and life goes on. I can’t be hyper-vigilant forever. The vet shaved the area where the kitty was hurting and revealed a horrifying sight. She had a hole the size of a golf ball in her side!

It scared me to pieces, but the vet said cats get abscesses easily and while this was a big one, it could be easily fixed. She did have to sedate her because she was not going to just lay there and let them stitch her up. About an hour later, I received a stoned cat with pupils the size of teacups and a “cone of shame” around her head. By the time we got home, Houdini-cat had managed to escape the cone.

We did get it back on her. Then we set up the really big wire dog crate so she was contained but still had room to move around. I hated leaving that cone on her because it inhibited her ability to eat and drink because she’s so little. One of my besties...Diane...is a big cat person. She suggested getting a child-sized t-shirt and jury rigging a kind of body suit so she could still move around but it wouldn’t inhibit her movements so much.

I went to the dollar store and they didn’t have a very good selection of little kid’s clothes. So, I bought a pair of women’s leggings and used one of the legs to fashion a sort of body sleeve that covered the affected area without restricting her movements in any way. I made holes for all four legs and that keeps it pulled down over the stitches and it works great! I also used a kitten collar threaded through small slits (like button holes) that kept the front part in place. And, since there are two legs in a pair of leggings, I can make another body sleeve when this one gets soiled.

So, that was the sucky part of my day. When I got home with the groceries, I made a wonderful meal...probably one of the better meals I’ve made in quite some time. Baked Salmon with Tzatziki, Quinoa with Mushrooms, Fresh Steamed Asparagus. And for dessert...Sugar Free Banana Pudding with Light & Fit Whipped Topping. Yes....we are back in the saddle with our diets working to be our best, most healthy selves.

Salmon with Tzatziki, Quinoa with Mushrooms, and Fresh Steamed Asparagus made for the perfect turnaround to a trying day.

We topped off the day with The Voice. Now, that’s how you turn a bad day around, I’d say.

❤️

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.”
James 1:2-8 NIV

James 1:2-8 NIV

Comfort vs. Bravery

Fri, 28 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

We were called to be BRAVE!

It’s so easy to slip into the “comfort zone”. Once you’re there, you definitely want to stay. There have been so many times I’ve been yanked out of my comfort zone...kicking and screaming. And every single time, I’ve grown bigger and better because of it.

When I was uncomfortably ensconced in a “Behavioral Unit” after the overdose, I went from reading Harry Potter to my daughter at night to harsh lights, loud voices, scary people, and a strictly supervised environment. I remember telling someone I felt like a slug on a hot griddle. The cells in my brain felt like they were sizzling. I was most definitely uncomfortable, but I discovered an inner warrior I had never really known.

When Mr. Virgo and I were driving to pick out a camper for our retirement, we basked in the comfort of our loving relationship...holding hands, sharing stories, making plans. When he suffered a massive heart attack and died within three hours, my world crashed and comfort became a foreign concept I wasn’t sure I would ever return to. People said... “You’re so brave!” My response was, “It’s amazing what you can do when you have no other choice.” I became more empathetic and compassionate and confident with time. And infinitely braver.

Then, Mr. FixIt uttered those words.

“There’s something happening here I have to tell you about. I’m feeling numb and tingly on one side.”

Instant discomfort. Fear. Panic. Explosive heart rate. Waves of nausea.

I’d been there before. While not necessarily a frequently visited territory, it WAS in my memory banks and I’d been there before. I knew there was a file card placed somewhere that said, “What to do in an emergency.” I just had to stop and take a deep breath and pull it out.

“Be BRAVE!”

Yep, that’s what that card said alright. Think. Think. Think. How do you DO that?

Breathe
Check your OWN pulse first. (In other words, calm down.)
Evaluate the situation.
Take appropriate action.

In my case, after all four steps were successfully accomplished, I moved on to my next step.

5) Excuse yourself from the room and throw up.

Ok, four out of five is pretty good, I think. After all, you can throw up and still be brave. In the past, I would have chastised myself for being a weenie. I would have thought of myself as being inadequate...incapable of controlling myself...weak. Absolutely NOT true.

I came out of this with a new appreciation for my body and my mind. I was scared. It’s ok to be scared. I couldn’t control what was happening. It’s ok to be out of control because, in all actuality...I’ve never been IN control of anything outside of myself. And sometimes that doesn’t work like I’d like it to. I was challenged. We all have challenges.

Here’s what I wasn’t...

I wasn’t defeated. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t incapable. And, I wasn’t alone.

I was brave.

It’s the same thing I told people after Mr. Virgo passed away. It’s amazing what you can do when you have no other choice. I do, however, have a spike in my blood pressure right now and I’m monitoring that. I haven’t had high blood pressure since Hubby #2 and I split up. Stress does crazy things to your body.

Mr. FixIt continues to improve and feel stronger every day. The numbness has reduced to only his left hand. We are hoping it continues to subside. If that’s the worst thing that came of this, we are truly blessed. He’s sleeping well, eating right, getting the rest he needs, and adjusting to his new circumstances.

This is my “Feel Good Friday” post...because, it’s been a week since his stroke, and we’re feeling pretty darned good right now.

❤️

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.””
Deuteronomy 31:6 NIV

Self-Care & Sunshine

Tue, 18 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

So, I just took down my tree and February is nearly over. Don’t judge! lol

I’ve noticed something about the last two winters. Last year, after spending the month of January knitting every day, I sequestered myself in Big TOW-Wanda for the entire month of February writing my book. I noticed two things. First, the winter seemed to fly by because of my immersion in writing...and in spending so much time in my happy place. The second thing I noticed was an uptick in my social anxieties when travel season started. Getting out and doing things led to that old uncomfortable fear I’ve felt all my life when I have to go out into crowds of people and fulfill the expectations of others. It took a few months to desensitize myself from the isolation of being such a homebody all winter.

This winter has been drastically different. I never stopped running all year. I was gone four months, I drove everywhere, I traveled to thirteen states, my daughter got married, I started a new position with Girl Camper opening a new OH/WV Chapter as well as a page on their website, I was the brand ambassador for the charity raffle trailer, and we got two new great grandbabies. Honest to goodness...I haven’t had time to breathe and I certainly wasn’t socially isolated this year. Therefore, I am not feeling those old familiar rushes of anxiety when I face certain social situations. I think I’m onto something here.

I’m beginning to look at my life more holistically. I’m reminding myself everything is interconnected. My diet and exercise will affect my emotional as well as my physical wellbeing. I’ve been chasing this rather nebulous pain in my feet and legs for the last several months. I quite by accident found cutting out gluten and sugar affects that as well as any depressive symptoms of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Combine that with keeping too busy to think about it and this has been a comparatively easy winter. Granted, again we had very little snow and only had limited days that were truly bitter cold. That helps, too.

Another thing that helps is leaving our Christmas tree up late. I actually just took it down yesterday. I shoot for Valentine’s Day or thereabouts to take it down these days. I love the extra light and sparkle the white twinkle lights bring into my world. Why would I want to get rid of that? So, yesterday I took down my Christmas tree. And in eighteen days, we change to Daylight Savings Time. I’m not depressed. I’m motivated and enjoying life, walking and eating right, and keeping just busy enough.

We went to the farm yesterday and took the Christmas decorations down out there as well. We swept up dead ladybugs and fed the birds. A feral cat left us the gift of a dead vole on the back porch. The daffodils are up about five inches. With the leaves down, you can see several new deadfalls up in the woods. The sun was shining and it was nearly 60℉. When we got home, Pumpkin was waiting for us at the door to the building. When she hears our truck, she waits till we pull in the driveway then runs and jumps in the cab with us for a snuggle.

Our life has an easy rhythm to it now that we’ve been married a while. It’s all good here on the ranch.

❤️

“I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Philippians: 4:11-13 NIV

Finding a Firm Foundation

Mon, 17 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Building on a firm foundation ensures you can weather any storm.

I grew up believing there was a God, but I never had a relationship with Jesus until 2004. None of my relationships, decisions, or experiences were built on a firm foundation of faith. Pastor Justin spoke yesterday about building your foundation on solid rock, standing on it firmly, and believing there is a KING inside you. Recognizing that power and owning it is something I never experienced until after Mr. Virgo died.

Those who build their lives on a firm foundation can weather the storms of life...even when they don’t believe they can. Even when they feel God is far, far away. I can attest to that. The hurricane that overtook me when I became a widow rocked me to the soles of my feet. Yet they remained steady...planted firmly on the solid rock of faith.

This was not the case in the ‘90s. The storm came and I held onto my house of sticks on the sand with all I had. I tied a rope around my waist and lashed it to my husband, my kids, my bank account, my house...then my drugs and my cocktails. The winds blew with such force and waves lashed at my feet till they finally cut the sand out from under me...just like the ocean does when you stand in the waves. Before I knew it...the rope broke and I was cast out into the tumultuous waves and nearly was lost forevermore. It was quite evident to anyone looking that I built my house on sand.

When I had the chance for a do-over...I humbled myself and begged for mercy. I negotiated with God to let me do it this way, or that way...but He stood firm and showed me there was only His way if I wanted to go on this ride with Him. I was bone weary from trying to juggle it all on my own. I wanted to walk on the water WITH Him. So, I did the work that needed to be done. I read the Bible. I listened to praise music. I changed my “playground” and the friends I met there. I found a church family. I married someone who went to church with me, even though we were not quite equally yoked.

This bared the stone on which I rebuilt my life and it’s been solid no matter how hard the wind has blown. One of the worship songs yesterday was “Bigger Than I Thought You Were”. I loved the lyrics. It speaks of stopping the negotiations. But the two lines I loved most were in the chorus.

“I will rest in the Father’s hands...Leave the rest in the Father’s hands”

That has a couple of meanings to me. I will rest in His hands and leave all the rest of my worries and cares in his hands. But, in line with what we’ve been discussing the last few days concerning forgiveness, “leave the rest” can be interpreted as “stop trying to control others...leave them in God’s hands.” After all, he is SO much bigger than I ever thought He was.

[youtu.be/o9YnFjsc2...](https://youtu.be/o9YnFjsc2XY)

❤️

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own;”
1 Corinthians 6:19 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

The Making of a Family

Thu, 30 Jan 2020 02:30:00 -0600

What Makes a Family a Family?

Before I get into this subject, let me first get something straight...I adore my children and their families. I love my exes and their spouses and their kids. I love my new bonus family as my own. And, I’ve got to tell you...the bonus family is easier. Let me explain.

I always wanted to be the kind of grandma that everyone would flock to my house. We’d bake cookies and I’d fix their favorite meals. They’d drop in for visits...just because. We’d have barbecues in the summer and big family gatherings at the holidays. It would be comfortable and we’d be a close knit family.

Then...I battled with depression for the better part of ten years when my kids were growing up. The medications I was on altered my personality and I really didn’t care about anything or anyone. I was essentially medically checked out. Then came the overdose and the horrible aftermath of that.

It’s been twenty years since then. We’ve done a lot of healing and we all get along fine now. Economics and my desire to live in my home state again took me away from my Colorado family and I don’t get to spend as much time with them as I did when I lived there. They have busy lives and we don’t get the chance to talk on the phone nearly as often as we would like. I know much of this is in my head, but I feel like I try too hard to be “extra” to make up for the rough times I put them through. They tell me it’s fine and they love me...it’s water under the bridge. They always want to do things with me when I’m there. I know it’s totally self imposed, this feeling.

I’ve been enjoying this really easy relationship with my bonus family here in West Virginia and it’s made me consider why. Why would it be easier than with my own flesh and blood? As I meditated on it last night, it occurred to me why. I have never hurt these people. I’ve never disappointed them. I’ve never let them down. They know me only for who I am in this moment...who I am in this new life that I have created for myself since Mr. Virgo died.

I also received a flash of insight when I thought of the difficult relationship I had with my own father. As an adult, I kept trying to draw him into conversations that would offer me some healing from the emotional abuse he inflicted on us. He would always say, “Can’t we just enjoy now and not dredge up the past?” I needed some kind of closure...he needed to enjoy the life he’d built for himself after divorce. His new life was easier than cleaning up the messes he left behind. I am proud of myself that I did the work to clean up my own.

I imagine I am not alone in this. I also imagine it could be just the opposite with some people and they feel the awkwardness with the bonus family and not their blood family, whether it’s real or imagined. I guess my point is this...all families create their own inner dynamics and are as individual as fingerprints. One cannot compare one family to another. One can only do the best they can. And hopefully do even better when they learn and grow.

I miss my Colorado kids something awful. I am so blessed to be able to go and spend a good long time with them on my late summer trips. Still, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth with these bonus kids. One can never have too many people to love, right? Maybe one of these days I’ll get the whole family together in one place and they can all meet each other! That would be so much fun!

❤️

“This is my command: Love each other.”
John 15:17 NIV

Immersion Therapy

Sun, 19 Jan 2020 02:30:00 -0600

“The whimsical art of Robert LaDuke totally intrigues me.”

I have been totally consumed by the camping world this week. We are heading into the final push for the Charity Trailer Raffle, I was on the news, and I drove the camper into the mall and set it up for display. It’s clean and shiny and I’ve spent the last two days “camped out” in the mall, answering questions, showing it off, talking about Girl Campers and the HoldYou Foundation, and meeting tons of people. I was amazed I only saw two people at the mall that I actually know. Mr. FixIt, however, is a different story. He knows everyone, everywhere! He is a gregarious man.

When I was browsing Pinterest yesterday for inspiration, I stumbled upon an artist who caught my eye. Robert W. LaDuke paints in a mid-century modern, semi Art Deco style that not only intrigues me, but stirs something in me. Maybe it’s the fact that this ‘50s chick came from that mid-century modern era. His art gives off a sort of “Girl Camper meets Roger Rabbit” kinda vibe and I love it. He does a painting of a blue pickup truck I am particularly enamored with. I just had to share these campers he painted.

Becoming immersed in something, in and of itself, isn’t a real problem...unless you get carried away with it. I’ve been known in the past to get into something and work it hard till I totally burn out. As I have aged, one of the things that has changed for the better is my ability to set something aside and take a break when I need to. Hence, tomorrow we are heading out with family to do something fun that was part of our Christmas present.

Taking a break from things is always a good idea. Even when you are grieving, there are ways to give yourself tiny spaces away from the intensity. When Mr. Virgo died, my daughters were staying with me in the days leading up to the funeral, and we took a trip to Target. We went to the electronics section and bought an armload of funny movies on DVD. While I don’t remember which ones we watched, I do remember clearly sitting on the sofa in our living room with my two loves...laughing. It was therapeutic and cathartic and so necessary.

As time passed, there were more opportunities for mirth...and there were sometimes fleeting feelings of guilt that accompanied them. I’d feel guilty for laughing and having fun when I was supposed to be overcome by grief. Then I learned that wasn’t true. There isn’t a rule book that says this is normal and that is not. You feel what you feel and it is human to feel joy...sometimes at the same time you feel deep pain. Grief is a confusing, crazy, deep place full of conflicting emotions...and it’s all ok.

There came a time when I had to stop immersing myself in the pain part of grief and move into the flow of life. Grief became the undercurrent for a period of time, then it became the ripples in the pond. And now, it is almost always the reflection of a beautiful sunset on the still, calm water my life has become.

I don’t know why...I can’t quite articulate it...but Robert LaDuke’s art distills that whole process in my memory when I see his campers. There is a slight darkness that hangs over the paintings...as if you are looking through the haze of a faded memory. Whatever it is...they speak to me and I don’t always find that feeling in art. One may find it a bit sill to get that kind of reaction from paintings of campers, but it is very much appreciated when art makes me feel something.

❤️

Robert W. LaDuke Art

“He has filled them with skill to do every sort of work done by an engraver or by a designer or by an embroiderer in blue and purple and scarlet yarns and fine twined linen, or by a weaver—by any sort of workman or skilled designer.”
Exodus 35:35 ESV

Seeking Comfort in an Uncomfortable World

Tue, 31 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“Travel brings me comfort in an uncomfortable world.”

Well, dear ones...this is it. The last day of the year. The last day of a decade. And oh...what a time it has been. At the beginning of it, I was happily married to Mr. Virgo...living in Denver and not much liking that part, except for being in close proximity to my children. Not that I got to see them much. I was very focused on my husband and didn’t see past the end of my nose. A major regret.

Three years into this decade, my life stopped when Mr. Virgo died unexpectedly...and I set out to create a new life with a new me. I sold the only home I had ever owned on my own. I made some bad decisions...but I’ve also made some good ones. I’ve driven tens of thousands of miles. I settled into and lived in the home of my heart on a beautiful farm that’s been in my family for nearly ninety years.

I’ve connected with some really wonderful people, and reconnected with people I’ve known for a lifetime. I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words as I poured out my grief and my heart and my love into the ether sphere. I married a man I initially set eyes on when I was six years old.

I gained people. And...I lost people I loved dearly.

I totaled a truck and escaped with nothing worse than a small brain bleed that left me struggling to remember things for a couple of years, which filled me with fear. This last year, things finally started to fire on all cylinders in my poor noggin and I feel more like myself than I have in a very long time.

I’ve aged a hundred years in some ways. I’ve gotten much younger in others.

I got a cat. Well...she got me.

I gained a huge extended family and I’m now not only a grandma....I am a GREAT grandma to two little ones with a third one due any day now. I am a GiGi, to be exact. A Mom and a mother-in-law and a Nana and a GiGi. A sister and a friend and a wife. How cool is that?

I went to Church Sunday night and Pastor Justin asked us to think about who we were before we were saved. In that moment, I realized THAT’S what has been hovering in the back of my mind as I contemplate the end of this decade. Because it was the beginning of the previous decade when my life very nearly came to an end.

I let myself cry as the music wafted over me, the Holy Spirit covering...filling me with his Love. My life has moments of demarcation with lines in the sand marking the points between “before” and “after”. The overdose. My mom’s death. Finding Jesus. Meeting, then losing, Mr. Virgo.

Finding ME.

Finding love again.

Marrying a wonderful man.

All while traveling. I get bored being in the same place too long. I need to seek new horizons from time to time. I need to get away and “blow off some stink” every once in a while. I need to recharge...away from everyone and everything I know. I need to go where no one knows me and rest in the anonymity that comes with the unfamiliar.

I get uncomfortable when I become too comfortable. When things start to get too predictable, I need to shake things up. I tried to count how many houses and apartments I’ve lived in during my lifetime and I lost track. I crave change. Thank goodness I’m married to a very understanding man. It makes me easier to live with, I think.

I don’t usually travel like I did this year...not since I was on the road with the camper after Mr. Virgo died. It was different this time. It was harder to be away from my sweetheart. Partly because I genuinely love being with him and partly because I’m older now and I have intimate experience with loss. Things have changed. There’s more to lose now. I’m not sure how much I’ll travel in the coming year...but I’m sure it won’t be quite like 2019.

We’re heading out tonight for a family bowling party to ring in the New Year. I can’t remember the last time I bowled. I can’t remember the last time I was out past 10:00! I have to remind myself...I’m only 66. There will be plenty of time to lay down when I’m dead and gone, right?

Maybe I can take a nap before we go.

Happy New Year, my dear ones! If you are struggling, may 2020 bring you peace, prosperity, and good health. You are so loved.

Thank you. Truly...thank you for being here all these years. I am eternally grateful for the connections I have made through this page.

Be blessed!

Ginny

❤️

“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples.”

Psalms 96:1-3 NIV

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Psalms 90:12 NIV

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

Proverbs 16:9 NIV

“When I’m Gone”...an Ode to a Decade

Mon, 30 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“When I’m Gone”...an Ode to a Decade:

I remember the way I felt when the calendar turned from 2013 to 2014. Somehow, in my grief addled mind, I thought it would make things better. It would create distance between Mr. Virgo’s death and....the present. I thought maybe there would be magical power in being able to say “He died LAST year”...as if that space and time would somehow fix this dreadful suffering I was mired in.

But it didn’t.

The New Year dawned and the same horrible ache I felt in my heart, the same sense of fear and uncertainty I felt, was still there like a burning coal I could not set down. I think that realization made it even worse because I knew in my heart the only way “out” was “through”. And I was so weary of the pain.

This is the seventh New Year. I thank God in every way that He carried me through the hell that was acute grief. I thank Him for leading me at every turn and held my forehead all those sleepless nights when all I could do was cry and throw up. I thank Him for bringing me to an excellent grief counselor who listened and knew how to help me with the PTSD brought about by watching the valiant efforts to save Mr. Virgo’s life.

I thank Him for nudging me to pour my heart out on these pages and for giving me the words to do so. I thank Him for opening doors and giving me the courage to walk through them. I thank Him for blessing me with supportive and loving children and family who have stood by me every step of the way...even when I’ve been a pain in the caboose and they roll their eyes at some of my decisions.

And, I thank Him for bringing Mr. FixIt into my life, along with a great big bonus family to add to my brood. I am so blessed to have this life and will never take it for granted.

When I felt the winds of change blowing me in a new direction in my writing, a thought was formulating in the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite express. I was feeling a certain melancholy and couldn’t figure out why. What was the significance of this New Year over any other? Then, I saw this video and realized...I entered this decade with Mr. Virgo by my side...never dreaming he would be gone in such a short time.

It’s a big deal to be turning the page on not just a New Year, but on a new decade. The last seven-ish years have been spent healing and growing and learning how to live without him. Then learning how to open my heart wide enough to accept MORE love instead of closing it off for good.

I’m entering new territory here...a decade Mr. Virgo will never experience. When this video popped up on my feed, I watched it and realized, it was released just before he died. It was an anthem I cried over. The lyrics slayed me and brought me much needed emotional release. As I rewatched it before I wrote this, the lyrics took on new meaning for me. In addition to the reminder of my past losses, there is another loss to contend with.

Ever since I shared with you my desire to change my writing schedule here on my blog, you have shared with me what this space has meant to you along the way. I cannot close this door completely and just stop altogether. Because I still need this space as much as some of you have indicated you do. I’ve come to know and love you. I’ve cried with you, and prayed with you, and celebrated with you. I don’t know if I can ever express what joy you have brought me. What healing and comfort you shared that eased my broken heart.

When I thank God for all He has done for me in this last decade, I thank Him so much for YOU. For giving me this space where we could help each other heal. Lift each other up. To laugh and cry and live and learn with each other.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

For being here and helping me through the worst of times.

And here we are...about to head into a new decade! What shall we learn? Where shall we go? What will God reveal to us in this mystical little place called Marshmallow Ranch?

“When I’m Gone” by Joey and Rory Feek

https://fbwat.ch/1V3CvhygTPjtgWSw

❤️

“ ‘Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security.”

Jeremiah 33:6 NIV

It Was a White Christmas...Somewhere!

Thu, 26 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

It wasn’t a White Christmas in West Virginia this year. And, honestly? That’s just fine with me. The “romance” of a White Christmas left me a long time ago when I lived in Colorado. The winter after Mr. Vigo died saw that snow shovel with just one name on it...mine! And I was none too happy about it, trust me. Still...if it only snowed once...at Christmas and then left, I’d be perfectly happy with that.

As I was perusing Facebook yesterday, a friend of mine who lived not far from me in my old neighborhood posted a photo she took from her Christmas walk with the dogs. It shows the arch over the entrance to Highland Cemetery where Mr. Virgo is buried. And there was snow! Now, THAT made me smile. Because Mr. Virgo LOVED the snow. The fact that he had a White Christmas made my heart warm.

We had a very quiet Christmas...just the two of us. Well, three...there’s little Pumpkin Kitty now. She and I snuggled for a few minutes on the couch this morning but she was happy to go back out and chase things outside. We had a pancake breakfast. Mr. FixIt baked the BEST peanut butter cookies with the Hershey’s Kisses on top. ***swoon*** I ate far too many of them! I baked a homemade chicken pot pie for supper. We watched Christmas movies and took naps and spoke to family on the phone. The weather was unseasonably warm in the high 50’s. It was a really nice day.

Our WV family Christmas is tomorrow night so today I start baking pies and cleaning house. When that is all done, I’d like to spend a little time over at the farm to end the year. I hope you all had a memorable holiday. If you were missing someone this year, my heart is with you. I know how difficult the holidays are when you are grieving. This was the seventh Christmas since Mr. Virgo died...and the sixteenth since my mom died...and I struggled a little more with this holiday season than the last couple. You just feel your feelings and move forward as best you can.

Today is Boxing Day in England as well as several other countries with original ties to Great Britain. This is the day when service people receive tips for jobs well done throughout the year. In some countries, like South Africa, vendors who do jobs for people actually come knocking on doors asking for a “Christmas Box”...a small monetary gratuity for services rendered. It is also a bank holiday and is the perfect excuse for extending Christmas as well as acknowledging folks who give us good service.

❤️

““A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.””

John 13:34-35 NIV

Seventh Christmas

Sat, 21 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“Left: 2013 - Right: 2019”

This is the seventh Christmas since Mr. Virgo died. I look back over the years and remember how each one felt.

2013: The loss was so profound the first Christmas. I was numb, empty, devoid of anything but pain.

2014: The second was equally painful but in a different way. I was awake...and he was STILL gone. And by then, I was living in West Virginia on the family farm and trying to help my aunt. I now know what she was going through was early stages of dementia, but at the time it was mean spirited and got ugly on Christmas Day when I was invited to leave. That was hard.

2015: The third was better. I flew to Colorado to be with my family and it was a welcome visit. I was beginning to catch my breath and develop a rhythm to my life and experience a great deal of personal growth. I don’t believe I cried that Christmas.

2016: The fourth was much, much better. I still had moments of sadness and reflection, but I had recently begun dating Mr. FixIt and there was a glimmer of hope rising. I found such comfort in our friendship and the possibilities of it developing into something deeper flitted around in the back of my mind. I struggled a little with “Where do I put the memories of Mr. Virgo if I start another relationship?”

2017: The fifth was great fun! My relationship with Mr. FixIt had solidified and we were sure we had found a life long love. There was a little mix of sadness because of losses in the family, which underscored the fragility of life. And we officially moved in together which started a year of uncanny sermons from our Pastor on NOT living together before you’re married.

2018: This brought us to the sixth Christmas...married! It was mind-blowing how far I had come, and we were over the moon!

2019: And now...here we are at the seventh Christmas. The number seven appears 735 times in the Bible. Seven is the foundation of God’s word. It’s the number of completeness and perfection. It isn’t lost on me that this is the time God has chosen for me to make changes in my writing schedule and turn my focus so I can accomplish other things as well as maintaining my presence here.

A lot has happened this year. I traveled four months out of this year. I had ample time for reflection. I’ve been able to package up a lot of things in my mind and store them neat and tidy because I don’t have to handle them every day anymore. This year I’ve felt more like myself, if that makes any sense to you. I wear this life now like my favorite comfortable sweater. It fits me. I no longer feel a disconnect between my heart and my mind and my feet. I’m standing where I was meant to stand...going where I’m meant to go.

This is a comfortable place to be. It’s a relief. And, it’s still ever so slightly disconcerting because I have the very clear awareness that there is precious little space between “here” and “not here”. This Christmas is good. Real. Grounded. I’m in a relationship where I’m free to be exactly who I am, speak my mind, and not be afraid all the time. My “fear of abandonment issues” have largely disappeared. I am a body at rest.

As I look at the picture above, I see two different women sharing the same space. This is the way grief is. Pain and heartbreak can exist in the same space as joy and happiness. This is the kind of thing I wanted to see and hear when I was that woman on the left. I so needed to hold onto hope and there were precious few sources for that in my life at the time. When I found myself lacking my own grief mentor, God whispered...

“That...go do that for others, dear one.” In so doing, I myself was the recipient of such healing and grace.

It’s been quite the journey, to be sure.

❤️

“Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.”

3 John 1:2 NIV

Big Loss + Big Growth = Big Changes in 2020

Wed, 18 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“We should all seek to grow through our losses, and accept that change is all there is to do.”

On March 12, 2013...my world as I knew it came crashing to an end. The future Mr. Virgo and I had planned ended right in front of me in the cold, sterile environment of a Colorado emergency room. Time stopped in that moment and I struggled to do the simplest of tasks...breathing was at the top of the list.

I ever so slowly dragged myself along the jagged shards of grief till I could accomplish simple things like personal hygiene, taking care of paperwork, and eating proper meals. Each tiny step seemed monumental and yet my focus was never much further than the end of my nose. But, hours became days, weeks, months. And finally...years.

When I look back on all of that now, I marvel that I survived. I also marvel at this new creation I have become. I am such a different version of myself than I was when Mr. Virgo was alive. I’m not at all sure he would like being married to the me I am now...although I have not a doubt that he would be ever so proud of what I have accomplished in a relatively short time.

Relatively short...if you can call seven Christmases without him “short”. Time is tricky. It seems like yesterday. It seems like eternity. Sometimes, it seems like a dream that I even had him. I’ve learned this is common and it was one of the hardest things to accept. It meant I was growing. Not forgetting...but growing into this new life that I find myself living.

And that’s where I’ve come to sit with you today...coffee in hand...to have a little chat. I’ve felt the winds of change whipping around my head for some time now. I’m not one to fear change. As a matter of fact, I embrace it. Good change, anyway. I find myself in a place now where I need to make some good changes. For me. For the people in my life whom I love and love me.

I’ve written every day...almost every single day...for 2,471 days. That’s 6 years, 9 months, and 5 days...in case you’re wondering. I’ve given everything to this project...this Grief Journal...the Documentary of an Ordinary Life. I’ve spoken from my heart with honesty and what I hope was with empathy and grace. And now...I find myself at a crossroads.

On the day Mr. Virgo died, God threw a pebble in the lake of my life and the ripples have expanded in ever broadening circles...touchIng, crossing, blending with the circles of others. He brought me a companion in Mr. FixIt. With him, God brought me a large extended family that adds to my own in Colorado. More children, grandchildren, and now great grandchildren to love and care for.

He crossed my path with Janine Pettit who has not only been a dear friend and mentor, but has opened my world to greater opportunities than I could have envisioned. God has answered my prayers when I asked him to “expand my territory”...my circle of influence...to give me even more opportunities to share how He has touched my life. And to share what wisdom I have been graced with.

There are big projects in the works on a national level which require more and more of my attention. One of which is the new OH-WV Girl Camper Chapter that I share with my dear friend, Gail Bable. We write stories about camping, the things we’ve learned, our favorite picks (parks, equipment, etc.) and local finds. We are essentially Ambassadors for Ohio and West Virginia Tourism as it relates to women travelers...be it camping or otherwise. I also write a series for them called Girl Camper Moments.

There’s my book, which sits waiting for me to get back to it and breathe life into it so it may be born out into the world. There’s a second book, and a third, and....you get my drift. There’s writing to be done and there are only so many hours in the day in which to do it. I have worked so long and hard on Marshmallow Ranch to let it devolve into anything less than the level of quality you have come to expect...and deserve. This is where the growing pains come in.

I have to make some changes.

If I want to do what I feel God is calling me to do, then I have to learn to use my time wisely. Just as our finances belong to God and we must be good stewards of what He has entrusted us with, so too is the time He has graced us with in order to accomplish the purpose He has for us in this life. To that end, I have set up a “work schedule” for 2020. I will post here every Wednesday and every Sunday. I will continue “Sunday Evening Prayer Circle” as that has become such a moment of solace for me and for so many others I know. Then I can focus Friday on Girl Camper and turn the writing time I’ve been using into work time on the book.

I do hope you continue to follow along. It may take more work to find me. I'm not sure what Facebook will do to my algorithms if I don't post every day. I will post brief, encouraging photos and quotes frequently. I just won't be writing the long story posts every day we both have become accustomed to. I get as much...if not more...from my writing when I read your kind and encouraging comments. Your loyalty has not been lost on me and I am ever so grateful for all of you.

And now, it's.....

2020

It's all about a new chapter.

20/20

It’s all about vision.

With much love and gratitude...

Ginny

❤️

“The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.””

Matthew 13:22-23 NIV

Love to the Rescue

Tue, 10 Dec 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“One of my besties! Deneene and her sidekick, Griffen the Grey, came for a visit. She’s good for what ails ya!”

I wrote in yesterday’s post about feeling “in the ditch”. I struggled for a few days with grief waves triggered by a traumatic loss in the family. Then, in swept my dear friend Deneene with lots of love and her trusty sidekick, Griffen the Grey. Griff is a nine month old French Bulldog who wriggled his way into my heart when we visited Deneene and her husband Mark in South Carolina this summer.

I had been greatly anticipating Deneene’s arrival for the last week and when she walk in the door, all the “holding it all in” released with her big bear hug. I had the gas stove in the family room fired up so it was nice and toasty. And I had the TV on with this really great ten hour YouTube fireplace video running in the background. We have a huge TV because the family room is huge. It used to be a two car garage, so if you want to read the fine print at the bottom of the screen, you need a big TV. When Deneene walked in, she said she could see the fire blazing from the road leading past our house. I was glad no one thought the house was on fire and called 911!

We didn’t stay up too late and talk because my friend is a new grandma and had just spent a week at her daughter’s helping out with the new baby. She was pretty tired so we said goodnight early. Deneene is not a real morning person, so when Mr. FixIt and I woke up at 8:30, I told him to be really quiet so as not to wake her. I forgot that puppies get their mommies up really early and she had been waiting for US to get up and keeping Griffen quiet.

When I heard them talking in the family room, I quickly dressed and went into the kitchen to cook breakfast. Scratch biscuits with homemade sausage gravy and eggs. OMGosh! It’s been forever since I fixed that and it was SO good. I made Paula Deen’s Cream Biscuits. They are love in the palm of your hand. Look up the recipe. Super easy! And sausage gravy couldn’t be easier to make than mine. Fry a pound of sausage till browned, sprinkle about a third of a cup of flour over it and stir till combined then slowly pour enough milk over it to loosed it up, adding more milk as it cooks, stopping when you get the right consistency.

As we sat and ooohed and ahhhed over the delicacy before us, we slathered butter and local orange blossom honey over the rest of the biscuits till there were just three left. I tucked them in a bag for Deneene to take with her to nibble on the road. Deneene raved over our hospitality and I told her it was the best B&B this side of the Mississippi…and it’s free!

We said our WV goodbye. She announced she should be leaving. We told another story. She said she really should get going. We hugged and talked about when we would get to see one another again. She gathered up her things. I made sure she didn’t forget her biscuits. We walked to the door. We hugged again and declared it had been too long since the last visit and we shouldn’t wait so long next time. She double checked if she had everything. I asked if she needed a bottle of water for the road. She picked up her bags and we had another long hug at the door. As she walked through, we noticed she had set down the biscuits when she put on her coat so we retrieved them for her. If it hadn’t have been raining, we would have walked her to her truck and the goodbye would have lasted another fifteen to twenty minutes. Thus is the nature of goodbyes in the country. It’s a goodbye full of love!

I called after her, “Don’t forget to text when you get there!” If it was dusk, I would have said, “Watch for deer!” That’s West Virginian for “I love you!”

Deneene honked from the road as she drove by and I waved madly from the front window. And she was gone. My friend whom I helped through her own grief had come and returned the favor. I felt so much better after her visit. I have a big deadline to meet this week so after Deneene left, I packed up and went to the farm where I turned the TV to the same fireplace video. I survived another wave and I’m on to the next thing. Such is the nature of grief. It just gets incorporated into life and you move forward. Thank you for your support yesterday. You have no idea what that means to me. I wish everyone who grieves had cheerleaders like you to support them through their journey.

❤️

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”
John 15:12 NIV

Bucket Lists & Miracles & Making Memories

Sun, 08 Dec 2019 02:30:31 -0600

“When being Santa is on your bucket list…”

This is the time of year where Christmas is around every corner. The twinkling lights and bustling shops, the carols and the wonderful aromas wafting from the kitchen…they all bring up memories. And, while there is a plethora of “warm-fuzzy” memories, there are also sad painful memories that show up with the turn of the calendar and the darkening of the days.

Christmas was Mr. Virgo’s very favorite holiday. When he worked at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen, he was asked to play Santa one year. You would have thought he was stepping on stage at the Met. He was thrilled…not only to play the role, but to grow out his beard. You often are not allowed to have facial hair when you work in Food & Beverage. This was a treat, all the way around. I know what joy that brought him.

One of my high school friends brought us some devastating news a while back. Her sweet brother, Ed Lowe, was diagnosed with cancer. When they did an in depth work up, they found out it had spread through his body. Ed is a pastor, and he knows where he will go when it is his time. He’s taking advantage of every treatment option and covets the prayers of anyone who will pray for a miracle with him.

With his typical optimism, Ed has set out to work on his bucket list. With Christmas fast approaching, he put his wish out there….to be Santa in our hometown Christmas Parade! Phone calls were made and before you knew it, Ed was being fitted for his Santa suit and got to ride down Market Street on a float…waving and smiling and throwing candy to the children lining the parade route.

These are the happy/sad stories we read about this time of year. This is a memory that will be cherished by so many people, no matter what the outcome of Ed’s health scare may be. I’m telling you this story because I love my friend, Janet. I love her fierce devotion to her brother. And, I am asking you to do something for us. Whenever you see Santa in the coming weeks, please send up a prayer for a special man of God who wants his own Christmas Miracle. Please pray for Ed Lowe…and all the others who need miracles, as well.

?❤️????❤️?

“Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.”
Jeremiah 17:14 NIV

Recovery Day

Tue, 03 Dec 2019 02:30:13 -0600

“Christmas Lights & Pie”

When all the food is put away…when all the dishes are done…when all the guests have said their last goodbye…what time is it? It’s time for PIE! Well, really…is there ever a BAD time for pie? We turned off the lights…all but the tree. And just enjoyed the quiet.

I took the kitten in bright and early to be spayed and immediately came home and slept three more hours. Working to put on a big family dinner takes the starch out of you. And it gets harder the older you get.

The babies were so much fun. Princess First was in rare form, ate like a champ, colored brilliantly, and melted me with “Pweeze, Gigi!” I’m toast. Then there was Prince Second. Oy, he is a solid chunk of sheer joy. He smiles and coos and bats his big eyes at me. All I wanted to do all day was kiss and nibble on those cheeks…they are so delectable!

Once the kitten was ready, I went to pick her up. They informed me she needs to stay in the house for the next ten days. You know what that means, don’t you? It means we now have an indoor cat. Bring me all the antihistamines in the land! It’s better, really. I worry about her outside with that road even though she was safe in the pole building every night. I also found out we can board her with our vet when we go out of town. So it was a win-win day.

Now I can turn my focus back to writing. The OH-WV Chapter page on the new Girl Camper website needs my attention every couple of weeks. There are presents to make. Cookies to bake. Calls to make. Cards to send. This will be a busy and quick month for all of us. Then we can start making all our camping plans for the New Year! There’s going to be some fun things happening on the east side…up and down the mid-Atlantic area so keep your eyes peeled for announcements!

Katy bar the door…all heck is gonna break loose around here!

❤️

“Put your outdoor work in order and get your fields ready; after that, build your house.”
Proverbs 24:27 NIV

Ok, Boomer...

Sun, 01 Dec 2019 02:30:54 -0600

“Ok, Boomer…terms of derision from a fed up generation.”

I’m a Boomer. Proud of it. And, like most people who are “of a certain age”, I find myself looking at the younger generations with a critical eye. As has happened with each preceding generation, the young people are looking at us like we’re dinosaurs. Out of touch actors that don’t have a clue. The first time I heard the snarky, derisive phrase…”Ok, Boomer”…I was frankly ticked off. How dare they…snot nosed little whippersnappers!

OMGosh…yes, I just said that!

Our generation came along after WWII during the Cold War when the economy was booming. All we had to do was roll up our sleeves, go to college, get a great job, build houses and buy cars and furniture and toys galore. Not all of us, certainly. I came from a poor home. But there was opportunity that our parents certainly didn’t have.

Then, our children came along. The Sesame Street Gen X-ers reaped a lot of the benefits of our hard work. The computer, then the internet, then cell phones…technology boomed and the world became a much smaller place. Then along came Generation Y…the Millennials…my younger daughter’s generation. And Gen Z…the children of Gen Y who know nothing other than the digital age.

Boomers often call the younger generations lazy, entitled brats who never had to work for anything…who got a trophy for showing up…who weren’t spanked by their parents and never suffered consequences for their actions. If they are brats, we are to blame. We raised them. Well, us and Dr. Spock.

I feel bad for the younger generations. We are leaving them with a terrible debt to pay. We have consistently and continually abused the planet, spent ourselves into oblivion, and we are preparing to ride off into the sunset. My older daughter and her husband are blessed. They bought a home before the bottom fell out of the housing market in 2008. My younger daughter is 29 and this is a far different world she is facing. This generation may never own homes.

While I don’t like “Ok, Boomer”…I can understand their frustration. They are saddled with immeasurable student loan debt. They can’t get jobs the way we got jobs…not when “Text 12345 to apply” is how you do it. They can’t dress up and knock on doors unannounced. They have to work 2, 3, or more odd jobs. And the jobs nowadays are not providing benefits. These kids have to get roommates to survive. They’ll eat a lifetime of ramen.

I worry about the upcoming generations. What will things be like for our great grandchildren? And the great- great- ones that we will never know? We have to become more forward thinking to preserve some sort of life for them. Or, I should say…Gen X-ers will. We can’t say we weren’t warned. I guess “OK, Boomer” isn’t far off the mark, is it?

❤️

“He decreed statutes for Jacob and established the law in Israel, which he commanded our ancestors to teach their children, so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children.”
Psalms 78:5-6 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

Refill Your Cup

Sun, 24 Nov 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“You can’t fill someone else with an empty cup.”

I met the Coffee Divas from my high school class yesterday. We try to meet once a month or so but I’ve been gone so much this year, it’s been a little less than that. When I returned from my WV tour in the Girl Camper charity raffle trailer, I was really ready to just be at home for a little bit. I wouldn’t say I was burned out…that sounds so negative and it wasn’t a negative kind of feeling at all. I just missed home and missed my sweet Mr. FixIt and I was ready to just be in one place and not move for a while.

There were eight of us at coffee yesterday. We are all so different…yet so similar. We’ve gone through a lot of the same things…sometimes at the same time…sometimes not. The wonderful thing about being “of a certain age” is our ability to relate to so many different experiences. One of my friends lost her mom a year ago Friday. She’s been experiencing all the things the come with that and I was so happy to see her reaching out as she lifts herself up from that slump we all go through in the year after a significant loss.

One of the gals had never been to one of our coffees. She knew some of us but not all. I never knew her in school, but she knew Mr. FixIt. She is introverted, as so many are. And she was stretching her boundaries to reach out and make new friends. That is not an easy thing to do when you’re sixty-six. We welcomed her with open arms. I watched a change come over her as the two hours passed. When she came in, her shoulders were tense…her eyes searching for a familiar face. By the time she left, her eyes danced and her dazzling smile said she had reached a happy place. Her cup was being filled.

As we chatted about the places we find ourselves on this journey, I told the girls we cannot expect to fill others with an empty cup. We have to get replenished…to drink from the well and be filled ourselves. I told them…it is not selfish to practice self-care. I love that we are there for each other…this variety of women whose singular most common thread is the high school class we graduated from.

I feel so much better now after being home a few weeks. I’ve rested. I’m sleeping well. I’ve had lots of hugs from my sweetheart and snuggled my great grandbabies. This week is Thanksgiving. Our plans are fluid. We might go to my cousin’s house. We might just stay home. Our local family Thanksgiving celebration is next Sunday. This is a week for all of us to reflect on the blessings we have…whether we are on the mountain top…or in a dark valley.

This is our time to look for ways to fill up our cups. When I look to God first as my Source, I’m filled with Living Water. When I look to my loved ones second, I’m filled with the blessings He has already given me. As you walk into this week, may you remember to fill your cup first so you can be a fount of inspiration for others. And may you encounter peace and love.

❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13 NIV

Drum Roll, Please...I’m a Girl Camper Guide!

Fri, 22 Nov 2019 02:30:14 -0600

“The Three Girl Camper Amigas…Ginny, Gail, and Janine!”

You’ve heard me refer to a “big project” I’ve been involved with over the last year and the time has come for the big reveal. It all started when my dear friends, Janine Pettit and Gail Bable, were having an impromptu “slumber party”. Janine was driving cross country and called to say she was headed to Gail’s in Ohio to spend the night. I was the same distance away on the opposite side so I threw some things in a bag, kissed Mr. FixIt on the forehead and off I went.

After supper, we were sitting around drinking tea and knitting when Janine said she had something she wanted to talk to us about. She had a vision for Girl Camper…the website that accompanies her Podcast. She told us all about it and we started throwing ideas around. It’s been a lot of work and a whole lot of fun over the last year and now all the work has paid off!

I am now wearing even MORE hats!

There is an all new Girl Camper website! It has so many new features. You can listen to Podcasts. You can read Girl Camper Stories. There is a section called Girl Camper Wisdom and another that features Experts. We have a new Food Editor…Kate Dunbar, the Campground Gourmet! And…Janine is introducing “Girl Camper Guides”. Each state on the map colored red has a Guide. Gail and I are sharing Ohio and West Virginia. Gail writes from her vast experience as a lifelong camper, mother of ten, and camp host extraordinaire! I am writing for Girl Camper Moments. We will have camping and educational events and Meet and Greets in the coming year. And…I am the RPod Ambassador for the Annual Girl Camper Charity Raffle!

We are so excited!

You can browse the site at: www.girlcamper.com

You can visit the Ohio-West Virginia page at: www.girlcamper.com/ohio-west-va

Browse around and see what you think! Leave a comment! Sign up for the newsletter! Listen to Podcasts! It’s a lot of fun…whether you camp or not. In the meantime, I’ll still be here…sharing my daily thoughts with you all.

Thank you all for all of your amazing support!

❤️

“Now this is our boast: Our conscience testifies that we have conducted ourselves in the world, and especially in our relations with you, with integrity and godly sincerity. We have done so, relying not on worldly wisdom but on God’s grace.”
2 Corinthians 1:12 NIV

Healing and Scars and Joy

Tue, 19 Nov 2019 02:30:14 -0600

“Although grief is never finished, healing can occur and you can use your scars to help others.”

Grief doesn’t run in a straight line. Anything but. We’d love to see the slow and steady climb from that deep, dark valley head right up the side of that mountain to joy. But, unfortunately…it just doesn’t happen that way. Grief runs all skwiggly-skwog…up and down, back and forth, around and around and around.

At first you don’t think you are making any progress at all. You can’t feel anything but pain. You cant see two minutes in front of you. It’s a bloody wonder we survive at all. The world is dark. No color…no sound…and certainly no joy.

One of the things people had the hardest time understanding in my early writing was the “gems in the flames”. I always looked for those gifts God left for me along my path as he led me through the fire. This wasn’t just a Pollyanna attempt to keep my glass half full. This was an exercise in faith knowing that…even in my darkest, most painful moments…my cup was still full to overflowing because Jesus was in that valley with me. Urging me on. Asking me to trust Him and just take one more step.

It’s easy to have faith when things are looking good. When you’re standing on the mountaintop and you’re feeling great, you may even forget to thank God for carrying you through the muck. Or, you might throw a cursory “Thanks!” His way then think “I’ve got this!” No, it’s when you’re down at your lowest…when life is hard and painful and dirty and ugly…and you beg for God to catch you and bring you out of this that you lean in closest.

When you’re walking the road of grief and things hurt so bad and grieving tears your heart out of your chest, you may very well be tempted to take a shortcut. Circumvent the whole process, push that nasty wad of grief way, way down deep inside and slap a smile on your face. Because, let’s face it…that’s what the world is usually asking you to do. “Aren’t you over this yet?” “You just need to _____________” (fill in the blank with any of a zillion suggestions you receive). The sheer variety of platitudes is mind numbing.

Oh, you can try to walk around it or climb under it, but one of these days, that bandage is going to come off and you’re going to have to face grief head on and it’s going to be ten times worse than it was before. At least, that’s what happened with me when I tried to date someone way…WAY too soon after Mr. Virgo died.

Even four years after Mr. Virgo died and I started dating Mr. Fixit, I was still pretty broken. Fortunately, he has a huge heart and an infinite amount of patience with me. He allowed me to talk it all through with him. He’s a great listener. Then one day, I didn’t feel compelled to talk about it as much and my heart truly started to heal.

Mr. Virgo came along when I was in a really vulnerable place. I had gone through a particularly difficult and ugly breakup/divorce five years before. And still, for the first year, that man listened oh so patiently as I went though all the gory details and told him every sad and angry story. He saw the potential and he invested in our love.

Both of these men love me with the white hot heat of the sun. Neither relationship would have ever worked had I not already worked through a lot of the pain of grief…both that of divorce and that of death. Those two men I dated between Mr. Virgo’s death and Mr. FixIt’s arrival though? Oy! I bled all over them from wounds they never caused. It wasn’t fair to them. I hate that I was blind and couldn’t see past my own need for a tourniquet.

Fortunately, I did come to some understanding how unfair it was to another person to try to have a relationship too soon. That’s when I stopped trying to date and started a serious relationship with Jesus. Then…when I was in a much better place…I was ready to open my heart and try again. It isn’t easy. There’s nothing about grief that is easy. And if you are in the throes of it, you will not understand this, but…I’ve come to look at every situation with a level of Joy. Maybe not jump up and down happy-happy joy. But with the Joy of knowing I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and will never, ever leave me. I have Jesus to hang onto when I go through the worst of situations. THAT Joy….that Joy with a capital “J”.

There is Joy in the scars because you have the opportunity to share your story with others. You have the opportunity to reach back to others coming behind you who are trying to find their footing in their pain. Your scars give you the freedom to love others. Your scars give you validity. They show others they aren’t alone. And when you can be there for another who hurts like you once hurt, you give the greatest gift possible. Empathy.

You don’t have to have flowery words. You don’t have to offer Hallmark phrases. You can give a hug, sit quietly, or just be honest and say, “Whew…I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you.” It’s isn’t easy to be there for someone who’s in pain, but it is so fulfilling to know you can somehow help another human being when they’re hurting.

Being vulnerable. Being available. Being open and honest. That is where I find my Joy in grief.

❤️

“Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.”
Psalms 30:2 NIV

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors: Setting and Keeping Boundaries

Sat, 16 Nov 2019 02:30:26 -0600

“Setting boundaries is like building a good fence. It keeps life neat and tidy.”

Growing up in a dysfunctional home in the ‘50s and ‘60s with an alcoholic father taught me a lot of things. But how to set and keep boundaries was not one of them. Heck, I didn’t have a clue what the term meant. My family of origin was so codependent, there was very little demarcation between where I ended and where others started.

This carried into my adult relationships. I married men who were equally codependent and it nearly killed me. After Hubby #2 and I split up, I bought Melody Beattie’s book…Codependent No More. It was eye opening. I will never forget the day I drew the line in the sand, creating a kind of demilitarized zone between us. The look on his face was “shock and awe”.

That was the day I began to own myself. I set clear boundaries and expectations. I demanded respect because, for the first time in my life, I felt true self respect. It was liberating. As I’ve gotten older, there are some boundaries set in stone, but others have become a little more flexible offering some give and take while still keeping the searchlights on the perimeter.

I was watching the hearings yesterday for the Impeachment Inquiry. I was impressed at the poise and dignity shown by the former U.S. ambassador, Marie Yovanovitch. She never lost her cool. She answered with the aplomb one would expect from a seasoned diplomat. That is, until one of the female panel members (I’m sorry, I cannot remember her name) started a line of questioning that got personal.

Her question…how did this affect you…elicited a guarded response. “I am a very private person, but…well, it’s been difficult.”

“How has this affected your family?”

Women recognize the look on the ambassador’s face. She was crumbling behind that mask. Then, instead of capitulating and answering, she said, “I’d really rather not answer that…” immediately followed with a sincere, “but, thank you for asking.” That’s a boundary. I know it sounds condescending, but I felt so proud of her in that moment.

Women are programmed from a very young age that it isn’t polite not to answer someone’s question. That’s ridiculous. Just because someone asks does NOT mean you need to answer. This boundary can come in very handy when you are a widow. You can say no. You can change your mind. What sounded great three weeks ago may not work when it comes down to going. It’s ok to say no. It’s ok to change your mind.

I was talking with Daughter #1 last night. She was telling me about Big being on two swim teams…the competitive club team and her high school team. The new high school coach wants all the team members to come to swim practice all the time. So does the club coach. My granddaughter is all of 15 and she has set boundaries for what she can and cannot achieve. They need her because she’s good. She isn’t being a prima dona about it…she just knows her limitations. The coach tried a threatening tactic. “If you don’t come to all the practices, you won’t letter.” “That’s ok I just want to swim with my friends and be on the team I already lettered for swimming .” As a matter of fact, she’s lettered in swimming and academics (STEM) and has been inducted in the National Honor Society. Yeah, she’s good without the threats.

It warmed my heart to hear how my daughter stood up for and respected her own daughter’s boundaries. This is how we raise healthy young women to be strong and stand up for themselves. Because today it’s the swim team. Tomorrow it’s the college professors or coaches or football players. She needs to be able to set and keep boundaries for her own health and safety.

Making and keeping boundaries was a new life skill that I didn’t learn until I was in my 50’s. Now I’m at the point where I relish the opportunities to help younger people establish this skill in their own lives. It’s not only valuable, it’s absolutely necessary to protect your mental and physical self.

❤️

“Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load.”
Galatians 6:4-5 NIV

A New Approach to Winter

Thu, 14 Nov 2019 02:30:56 -0600

“Making choices to find more joy…that’s my approach to winter this year.”

I started dreading winter with a vengeance after Mr. Virgo died. I wasn’t crazy about it a long time before that, but after he died the snow shovel only had one name on it and that was mine. Before long, I began to dread fall because winter wasn’t far behind. While I was out on the West Virginia Tour in the RPod, it began to dawn on me how negative this was becoming.

I can’t change the weather. I can change my geographic location, which I’ve done. Just moving to West Virginia has added at least two full months of warmer weather with a longer growing season. If I wanted to get away from cold weather entirely, I’d have to move much further south and for now, that isn’t in the cards for Mr. FixIt and me.

We love West Virginia. It’s our home…the home of our hearts. It took me a long time to get back here. I’m not about to go someplace else at this point. So, that leaves the adjustment up to me. I saw this meme the other day and it really hit home. I can choose to hate winter, and now fall because winter is right after it. I’ll be miserable and consequently make everyone around me miserable. Because, we’re still going to have the same amount of snow and cold weather no matter if I’m happy or sad.

When I was a little girl and would get upset, my grandma would tell me to just “scratch my mad place and get glad”. In other words, get over it kiddo…you’re not in control of everything. This year I’ve decided to scratch my mad place by embracing all the wonderful things I can do in the colder months that I can’t do in the summer.

I have a much better winter wardrobe than summer. I can look forward to wearing my really pretty sweaters and boots, hats and coats.
I never drink hot beverages other than coffee in the summer. In the fall and winter, I pull out my tea pot and enjoy a cuppa in the middle of the afternoon. Or, I can hug a mug of hot cocoa with yummy, gooey, melty marshmallows in it.
It’s way too hot in the summer to bake so I indulge in trying out new recipes in the cooler months. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at baking sourdough bread. So this winter I’m going to order some sourdough starter and see what I can do.
Winter has given us the break we need from outdoor chores so Mr. FixIt is back at work on the master bath. While he’s doing that, I am going to steam off the wallpaper in the dining room, paint the walls, and put up new curtains. Then we can tackle the main bath.
I haven’t touched my book since February. This winter, in my down time, I’m going to try to wrap that up once and for all then we can focus on getting it published.
We have a new great grandson coming in January!
We always try to get down to Florida in February and that’s something I always look forward to.

Having goals allows me to set joyful things in front of me…something that has helped me ever since Mr. Vigo died. Just reading this list makes me feel far less frustrated by the cold weather. The meme is right…there will be the same amount of cold, no matter what. I might as well embrace it.

❤️

“The animals take cover; they remain in their dens. The tempest comes out from its chamber, the cold from the driving winds. The breath of God produces ice, and the broad waters become frozen.”
Job 37:8-10 NIV

Safety on the Road

Wed, 06 Nov 2019 02:30:14 -0600

“Being safe in the woods means staying aware of your surroundings and listening to your gut.”

There were only two times on this last trip that my antennae went up as I paid close attention to what was happening around me. The first time was when I was at Calhoun County Park trying to see a meteor shower. This park only has eight campsites in the first place. And I was there in the middle of the week after school started so there was no one up there camping. There were people in the community building both evenings but they didn’t come over near me.

Sometime after dark on the second night, a car drove slowly by my camper out to the end of the park and stayed there for about ten minutes. I turned off all the lights in the camper and peeked out from behind the blinds. The car came back and just drove right on by without slowing down, so the tension in my shoulders eased. Mr. FixIt told me he very nearly came out to camp with me out there but he resisted the urge.

The second time I was even remotely concerned was at the last campground I stayed. Twin Falls is stunningly beautiful, as you can tell by the photos I took. But the campground itself is located on the very top of a long and winding mountain, pretty far away from the main park buildings. At this time of year, the campground office and store is closed and there wasn’t a campground host.

On the first night, I read the story about the couple who were boondocking on South Padre Island and went missing. Then surveillance video showed a man and woman, not the owners, driving the truck and camper across the border into Mexico. They were later found buried in shallow graves on the beach. This freaked me out, I will not lie. The next evening, the man who was camping over on the next row walked through the woods between us to come talk to me when I pulled in after spending time at the lodge, writing.

He told me he had tried to flag down the park worker who had just driven through the campground on a side-by-side but couldn’t catch his attention. He also said he didn’t have a phone so he couldn’t call anyone. He told me someone had come to the bath house earlier in the afternoon and their car was there for a couple of hours. After they had gone, this man went over to the bath house and someone had smeared feces all over one of the stalls in the men’s room.

Ok, that was creepy, but the man seemed harmless enough. After all, he introduced himself by name. And I know stuff happens in campgrounds. I know how to handle myself and to watch what’s going on. I told him I would let someone at the park office know what had happened and he was grateful. As he turned to leave, he swung back around with a big smile and said, “I suppose you saw me all over the news last night!”

Um…no, I did not. I thought to myself…what did you do that put you on the news?

I swung the door of my truck closed. Then he proceeded to tell me he rode his bicycle all the way from California to look for the father he never knew. Apparently the news had followed him across the country on his quest. I wished him luck finding his dad and I went to tell someone about the men’s room.

That was the night when the truck started making a grinding noise and the first thing that went through my head was “What do I do if I get stuck here? What if the bathroom vandal came back? What if “Bicycle Man” wanted to get friendly?” My imagination started to get the better of me and I had to pray myself to peace. And ask my gal pals to pray for me as well. And, I texted Mr. FixIt to come “help me check out this truck”.

I wasn’t really scared. But I was leery. And I was tired and a little road weary after six weeks of camping. It didn’t hurt a bit to get my strong, capable husband to come help me out and be my encourager. He told me he ran into one of my friends at the mall that week. She had been reading about my journey and she told Mr. FixIt she didn’t think she could do that and didn’t I get scared?

“Nope! She’s the bravest woman I know!”

Knowing he feels that way about me, and that he worries but lets me have my lead, makes me feel wonderful. I have spoken with my closest friends about this….I could never, EVER have done what I’m doing while I was married to Mr. Virgo. Not only did I lack the self confidence, but he would NOT have liked me being gone. He didn’t like me being gone for the weekend to Denver to see the kids. He wouldn’t have stood for me being gone the majority of six weeks. As a matter of fact, when we first started dating, he said he wasn’t interested in dating someone who wanted to spend much time apart.

Mr. Virgo liked me being right there with him. When he watched TV, he liked me to watch TV with him. He didn’t like it if I was on the computer or the iPad or the phone either. Because, he wanted to discuss the show with me during the commercials. I did these things because I loved him, not because I loved watching TV. When you’re married, you do things sometimes that you don’t particularly enjoy. It’s called compromise.

Mr. FixIt came into my life when I was a free-spirited, independent, remote-camping gypsy who spends long hours writing. He knew what he was getting and gives me space to grow and spread my wings. That’s one of the things I love about him. I make it up to him by traveling and going to the beach and never saying a word about his bowling two nights a week. I cook him yummy meals and take him camping whenever I can. We treat each other with respect, honoring each other’s interests, and we have a lot of fun together.

It’s a win-win for us both.

❤️

“However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.”
Ephesians 5:33 NIV

Does Time Heal All Wounds?

Mon, 04 Nov 2019 02:30:36 -0600

“Does time heal all my wounds? Not in my time…but in God’s time.”

I’ve been struggling a little with re-entry. The rhythm of the road is different than that at home and I always have a bit of a hard time adjusting. It’s a little like the let down after the holidays…you know, when you have to get back to reality. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just always a little sad when the party is over.

Yesterday morning I woke up at what seemed like a reasonable time with the time change. As I stretched and thanked God for letting me open my eyes to face another day, I went through my morning inventory. I noticed I felt a little down so I searched around in my mind as to what might be going on beyond the normal re-entry slump.

Then it came back to me. I was having a dream when I awoke. In my dream, I was sitting at a desk, going through my calendar, and realized it had been over six-and-a-half years since I had spoken with Mr. Virgo. In the dream, he hadn’t died…I had just seemed to have lost contact with him. I was really confused, like…did I go someplace and forget him? Did I tell him I’d call him when I got there and then just…didn’t? If that was the case, then why hadn’t he tried to contact me? What on earth was keeping him so tied up that he couldn’t find the time to text or call me? Then, of course, I woke up. And reality is reality. He is gone. I am here and happily married to Mr. FixIt. So, why did I have such a dream?

There aren’t answers to that, really. I believe it was Freud who said, “a cigar is sometimes just a cigar”. There’s no reason to psychoanalyze every little thing. We have dreams. Things happen. Life moves with its own rhythm. Still, dreams like that can stir something deeper and create a ripple in the force.

The day went on and was lovely. Church, breakfast, errands, a nice Sunday afternoon snooze. Then, I went into the bedroom for something and had that old familiar urge to call my mom. I always called her on Sunday evenings. I miss those calls and it made my heart ache a little. Then I thought of my kids and how busy they are and they don’t call me on Sunday evenings and…

That particular snowball had to stop right there. It doesn’t do any good to go down that road and make myself miserable over things I have no control over. There are wounds that heal with time. They become so small they don’t even leave a scar. There are wounds that heal and leave visible scars. Then there are those that not only have the scars, but also have varying degrees of pain. Like the phantom pain of a leg long gone or a throbbing knee when it rains.

Grief and time. I see them like those models of DNA. A twisted ladder, connected and spiraling. Never really finished. Never quite tangible. Always affected by our emotional temperature. No…time doesn’t heal all wounds. But, God does. When I remember to stop trying to handle hot coals with my bare hands and give them to my Father to carry, my wounds are bound up. It’s just the remembering to turn them over that trips me up every time.

❤️

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalms 147:3 NIV

Meet.....Pumpkin, the Kitten!

Sat, 02 Nov 2019 01:30:07 -0600

“Kitty has an appropriate Halloween name…Pumpkin!”

I hit the ground running yesterday. The first order of business was to haul the camper to the nearest dump station…a lovely fifty-four mile round trip drive out to and up the interstate and back. When I woke up at 8:00, it was a whopping 36 degrees. Two hours later, when I was finally hooked up and ready to go, it was all the way up to 37! Ohhhhh, I really wasn’t looking forward to that, but it had to be done. Last night’s overnight low was predicted to get down to 27 and stay there for four hours. That’s when you get freezing and possible damage to water lines in a camper.

The only way I have ever winterized a camper was to run pink RV antifreeze through the lines. But this camper is different. I looked it up on YouTube and it said to open the drains, dump the tanks, pour some antifreeze in the wastewater tanks to keep any residual from freezing, and take out the element in the hot water heater. Then, you go around and turn on each faucet, one at a time, and turn on the water pump. Any residual water left inside should drain out through the low water drain. It worked like a charm! But, man…I was chilled to the bone when I was done.

I pulled the camper back home and unhooked, fully expecting to head back to town and run errands on my list that’s a mile long. As I sat in the truck, I took inventory. Have you ever had to sit yourself down and give yourself a stern talking to? Well, that was me yesterday. I was feeling overwhelmed by the expectations I was placing on myself. No one else was telling, or even asking, me to get everything done. I counted up what I had already accomplished. I looked at the list to see what I could do alone, and what I would need Mr. FixIt’s help with. I checked off the list of phone calls I had already made. Then I took a physical inventory. My shoulders and neck were so tense and tight, I was getting a headache. My body was just…tired. So…I gave myself permission to kick back for the rest of the day.

I got out of the truck and the little black kitten came running and rubbed against my legs. I reached down and picked it up and really gave it a good once-over. Well, except for checking the nether regions. It still just didn’t occur to me to look. I was more interested in testing the kitten’s demeanor. One of the tests you do with puppies is to cradle them in your arm on their backs to see if they trust you. An alpha won’t have anything to do with that. And that may be a more stubborn, if not aggressive, animal. I didn’t know if it worked with cats, but this little baby let me roll it over and snuggle and scratch it all over. It purred like an Evinrude motor on a power boat. It head butts you to snuggle face to face and taps you very gently on the face. What a precious baby!

I held it up to look face to face.

“What is your name, little one? Hmmm? Is it…Spooky? You’re a black little who came to me on Halloween. It should be a festive name to commemorate the holiday. How about Snickers? You’re pretty sweet, and that’s my favorite Halloween candy. Someone suggested Ash or Asher, but I don’t know whether you’re a boy or girl. They thought Boo was cute, but that’s what we call our little Boone, now isn’t it.”

By this time, I was at the bay doors on the pole building. There is an old kitchen stool there and Mr. FixIt put a couple of our pumpkins on it. I plopped the kitten down and took a picture. I looked up from the camera app on my iPhone and smiled.

“Pumpkin! THAT’S your name, isn’t it?!?! I knew if I listened close enough, you’d tell me, you sweet little snuggle-bug.” I picked up the kitty and was again serenade with that mystical sound of purring. Now that the kitten has a name, Pumpkin just rolls off my tongue. So sweet, so simple. Such simple pleasures found in a sweet kitten. I had forgotten. The last time I had a kitten this size, I was in 9th grade and I talked my mom into letting me have a little orange marmalade kitten from my friend Sharon’s cat.

I gave the kitten a little more snuggle time and then went in to stretch out and read till Mr. FixIt came home. My nose was running like a sugar tree from handling the cat, but I wasn’t wheezing. That was a good sign. I washed my hands well, and was careful not to touch my face or eyes. I’m definitely allergic, but we’ll see how much of this I can get away with. Because this feels like something I didn’t even know I needed. Kittens are good medicine.

I have an appointment Tuesday for a checkup and shots. We’ll see how old Pumpkin is and when we can get him/her fixed. Today I will fix a winter box with a pet safe heating pad in it. I had those for the cats out at the farm. I’ll also get a heated water dish. The kitten seems to really like the safety of the building. We won’t have any mice in there anymore once this one gets big enough to catch them. And, there isn’t any poison in there. It’s a good, clean, safe place to sleep all cozy warm in a kitty condo. When we are home, the kitten is glued to us so…I think we’ve got this!

Oh, and I slept in the house for the first time in a month last night. I feel like I’m in prison after the freedom of the road. It’ll take time to acclimate, but last night’s low of 27 drove me back inside. In the meantime, I am filled with wonderful memories of the latest “Great Adventure”!

❤️

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”
Isaiah 55:12 NIV

Welcome to my Living Room!

Tue, 29 Oct 2019 01:30:00 -0600

“The camper is the kitchen, bath, and bedroom…the great outdoors is where I live!”

I got to my new campsite in the middle of the afternoon. The mountains I drove over yesterday weren’t anything like the ones last week but man, the road up into the campground here at the park is really, really steep! This truck did a great job pulling the r-pod in these West Virginia hills. When I arrived at my site, I was amazed to have this entire mountaintop to myself! I didn’t have any concerns about that, but I was pleased to see two more couples come into the campground with trailers.

It’s quiet as a church mouse up here. I heard some owls just after dark and a coal train. And the squirrels were in the hickory trees all around me all afternoon. I opened the awning and set up my chair outside and enjoyed the 75° temps and the warm sunshine. A few weeks ago, I purchased an adapter for my tripod so I could use the iPad as a camera. I got it out and played with it for awhile. I had a blast setting the timer for 10 seconds then running to see if I could get in the picture in time!

I wanted to tell you about what happened yesterday. I always sit in my truck before I pull out and pray for travel mercies. I list off all the things I’m going to be talking with Him about as I drive. Then I pray the Prayer of Jabez and ask Him to send me whoever He needs me to talk with that day. I hadn’t driven a hundred feet when I came around a corner and there was a whole crowd of folks my age sitting around a campfire. I stopped and rolled down my window.

“You kids look like you’re having entirely too much fun!”

“Oh, we are!!!” Everyone turned around and smiled and waved. We made some small talk and one of the gals asked if I was traveling alone. I told her all about Girl Campers and how I’m taking this camper around for a few months and we are raffling it off. One thing led to another and the subject of my writing came up. When I told them my writing is faith based and that I even have a Sunday Evening Prayer Circle, one woman came over and took my hand and asked if I would pray for her granddaughter who is sick with ulcerative colitis. I opened my blog and added her name to the prayer list. Before I left them, I took their hands and prayed with them…right there in the campground. God is so good…I asked, He delivered. Immediately! I know it happens so often, I shouldn’t be amazed. But I am always in awe at that.

I’m in the home stretch of the West Virginia tour now. Just one, maybe two more nights and I’ll be back at the Ponderosa for a few days. It’s been such an amazing trip and I’ve seen some beautiful places. I’m looking forward to heading south next week. If you all have any recommendations for campgrounds or state parks in Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, and South Carolina…I’d love to hear them!

❤️

“Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, “I gave birth to him in pain.” Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request.”
1 Chronicles 4:9-10 NIV

Between the Trees

Sun, 27 Oct 2019 01:30:43 -0600

“Sitting by the river is soothing to the soul.”

Being a writer is a wonderful thing. I can get lost in a blank page, creating worlds from my thoughts. It’s like magic…making something from nothing. I pray over my keyboard. I ask God to bring me words to say and people who need them. I am humbled when someone reaches out and tells me how my words have encouraged them or helped to ease the pain of their particular loss. I am quick to tell them…it is not me. I am merely the transcriptionist.

When I pray the Prayer of Jabez, I ask for God to give me those Blessings with my name on them. I ask Him to expand my territory and to walk with His hand over me to keep evil far from me so that I may not feel/cause pain. I love when He brings people to me. It happens daily and I am so blessed by His generosity.

As I sat yesterday in the r-pod, working on a writing project, I noticed the camper next door had turned their outdoor speakers up and were playing loud music. Not over-the-top loud…just annoying because it was disturbing my flow. I stopped and looked at the clock. Just after noon. I had been working straight through since breakfast. I sighed and closed my iPad.

Should I go say something to the people? Should I give them a stern look as I pass by? Should I report them to the park office? I sat and prayed for discernment and wisdom. As I washed up the breakfast dishes, I looked out and there were two children…maybe ‘tweens…carving pumpkins! They didn’t have their noses glued to an electronic device. They were camping with their family and doing fun, creative things in the outdoors.

I smiled as I dried my hands. Just WHO is the one with her nose glued to an electronic device? Oh, yes…that would be ME! I laughed as I looked up and said, “Ok, ok…I get the hint!” After taking a look around the camper to make sure things were unplugged and safe to leave, I donned my jacket and headed to the Fall Harvest Festival.

I watched a chainsaw artist carve a bear out of a log. I sat and listened to some live Bluegrass music. I went to the river and sat in a chair and read for an hour. I put my book away and just breathed in the smells of the day. The aroma of good food from the lodge kitchen. The smell of wet leaves and swift river water. The earthy smell of wool as the sun warmed my sweater. I closed my eyes and listened to children throwing rocks in the river and an elderly couple chatting softly as they walked slowly by…their feet shuffling through the leaves.

I thanked God for reminding me to remove the plank in my own eye before I asked my neighbor to remove the sliver from theirs.

It was a really good day.

❤️

“You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
Matthew 7:5 NIV

What Would Grandma Say?

Thu, 10 Oct 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“Autumn Glow Lights up the R-Pod”

I camped the last two nights at a park hardly anyone knows about and I’d almost like to keep it that way. Except…it’s so uber cool, I just have to share. I’ve written about Calhoun County Park before. Mr. FixIt and I took a drive out here once and took pictures of the Heritage Village…a collection of buildings that were transported here and restored. There’s an old general store, a school house, a church, and a post office among others. The post office was from Freed…not too far from Grandma’s farm. Grandma introduced me to some of the Freed family.

When we came out to the park that time, we saw a little campground and I was intrigued. As it turns out, Calhoun County Park is a designated “dark sky site”…meaning there is minimal light pollution and it’s easy to see the stars. The last couple of nights were peak meteor events. The first night was blanketed in dense cloud cover but last night was clear as a bell. Still, at the time I am writing this, I haven’t seen any.

When I got up yesterday morning and went outside, there was something about the light and sounds and smells that took me straight back to my childhood. Grandma’s farm is probably 15 miles or so from here as the crow flies so I’m practically camping in the backyard. It got me to thinking about her and what she might think of this little adventure I’m on.

My grandma always loved me, but she…like several of my family members…thought maybe I was a full bubble off the level. I have always marched to my own drum and never really did things in a traditional way. Here I am, out on 258 acres and not a soul in sight. Oh, there were some folks up at the community building the last couple of nights. And yesterday a state patrolman came through the park on his rounds. But that’s the extent of it. Grandma would think I was off my rocker!

Was I scared? Not really. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a care in the world, but fear didn’t really enter into the picture. I have protection. I have street smarts. I know the fire department is only a couple of miles away and I passed a policeman’s house not a mile from the park. Mr. FixIt is 20 minutes away at the Ponderosa. I have great cell service. I’m good.

I decided yesterday was a good day to figure out how to use the convection function on the convection microwave. On the R-Pod Owners V2 Facebook page, they talk about the “Cinnamon Roll Challenge” so I decided to bake some. Granted, they were from a can, but baking is baking, right?

It took me a little bit to figure out how to work the stove. I read the directions but it wasn’t until I watched a YouTube video that I totally figured it out. I baked the rolls…5 in the can…and iced them. I ate one and packaged the others for the freezer because Mr. FixIt is going to join me this weekend for another weekend of camping. AND…our first wedding anniversary is Sunday, so what better way to celebrate than getting lost in the woods with my sweetie?!

The autumn colors have really shown up the last couple of days and I’m in the most beautiful state to enjoy it. Almost Heaven…West Virginia! Today, I head to another State Park to enjoy more scenery and color!

❤️

“Let the trees of the forest sing, let them sing for joy before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth.”
1 Chronicles 16:33 NIV

Setting up the “Spare Room”

Sat, 05 Oct 2019 01:30:44 -0600

“Converting the sofa to a spare bed in the RPod 196!”

I’m Back!!! Mr. FixIt and I had a wonderful time camping together and the little break was just what I needed to recharge. There’s nothing like being in the woods in a little camper. Losing Mr. Virgo taught me to really appreciate every moment and this week has been grand!

On Monday, we checked into Tomlinson Run State Park in the tippy top of the Northern Panhandle of West Virginia. The drive up was lovely as we followed the Ohio River on Rt. 7. Mr. FixIt drove separately and followed along behind me. We got to our campsite by mid-afternoon and unhooked. It’s a lovely campground, located on top of a hill and densely wooded. The sites are all nicely spaced apart from each other. We had electric but no water. That’s not a problem, really. You just use the water you carry with you in your fresh water tanks. We rode our bikes around the campground, we cooked outside, and we spent as much time as we could sitting out looking at the stars.

We left Tomlinson Run on Wednesday and headed to Beaver Creek to meet up with the Girl Campers. Mr. FixIt loves to hang out with the girls and they really enjoy him as well. We had fires in the Solo Stove which is wonderful…so much less smoke than a conventional campfire but still enough that you feel as though you had the camping experience. We had some rain here Wednesday night. Quite a bit actually.

Mr. Fixit left yesterday mid-day to head home. My friend Diane joined me last night. Diane graduated from high school with me but we didn’t know each other back then. She and I didn’t really become good friends till I moved to the family farm in West Virginia in 2014…the year after Mr. Virgo died. I needed to find someone who could help me unload a truck so I called her to get a recommendation. We became fast friends after that.

I tried to get her to camp with me several years ago, but Motel 8 is roughing it to Diane. Then, when she found out I was taking the RPod out for a road test, she texted me with a bombshell. She wanted to come camping with me! She knew I’d be writing about my camping experiences and wanted to offer her services as “blog fodder”. “Camping with the Non-Camper!” Brilliant! This could either be really, really good…or really, really bad. I’m happy to report that, so far, she seems to be having a grand time! She fits right in with these great gals.

As is always the case, there’s always a good deal of food at these events and last night was a smorgasbord. Tonight is soup night…my favorite night during What a Hoot. Everyone brings their A-game on soup night and we all go around taste testing each person’s creation. I decided to do something a little bit different this year and make beef and noodles. I’ll stick the chuck roast in the crock pot in the morning and let it simmer all day. It will be a welcome addition, I am sure.

This morning was predicted to be 41 degrees! After a long stretch of hot, dry weather, I am really welcoming the cooler temperatures of fall. I needed to make a reconfiguration of the camper to accommodate my guest. I turned the jack knife sofa into a twin bed. The back of the sofa is a little bit higher than the seat when it’s laid out flat. I bought some firm upholstery foam sheets to lay down on the lower section to make an even base and place my inflatable mattress on top. It was cool enough for the furnace. Today is Pioneer Days down in the Historic Village. The grist mill will be running and there will be tours of the village buildings. Our friend Gail’s son wrote a book about the haunted history of Beaver Creek and will be on hand to sign his books.

So far, the trip is fabulous and so is the RPod 196! The tickets are on sale on girlcamper.com for $10 each and the proceeds benefit the Hold You Foundation, an organization that assists families with critically ill children. This is a wonderful chance to support a worthy cause as well and get the opportunity to buy a wonderful camper! It’s good to be back!

❤️

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

The Really REALLY Big Show!

Sun, 15 Sep 2019 01:30:02 -0600

“Janine, her BFF Carol, and me in front of the R Pod at the Hershey RV Show.”

Ok, so I thought Friday’s show was busy? Hokey Smokes!!! Yesterday was absolutely insane at the RV Show…but SO amazingly fun! Hundreds of people came and walked through the camper. Everyone loved the decor and if they didn’t…it was probably a guy. Guys don’t necessarily get the whole “decorate your camper” thing. That’s why most campers are varying themes of BROWN. I think a guy takes a look and says, “Yeah…that won’t show dirt. Use that!”

I do have to say, the folks at Forest River are stepping up their game in the new R Pod. The cabinets are a lovely shade of grey and the walls are off white. It is a perfect canvas on which to decorate in whatever style strikes your fancy. The light colors along with multiple large windows brings in an abundance of light which is exactly what I am looking for in a camper. I am going to switch the mattress out. I’ve never found an RV mattress that I found satisfactory. I am very choosy about my mattresses. I have an extra memory foam mattress at home so I’ll switch it out when I’m there next week.

Janine and I were so exhausted when we got back to our hotel room yesterday. We both took a long nap, then headed out for dinner. Our meal was ok. I was disappointed in my main course. I had pasta and meat sauce with Italian sausage. The sausage had been left in the skillet too long and was actually burnt. When the waitress took my plate, she asked if there was something wrong. I explained and she offered something different. By that time I was full from just the pasta and sauce and didn’t care for anything else.

Pretty soon, the manage/owner came out to talk with me. He said he took my entree off the check. In the process of our discussion, I informed him I had a good understanding of what he was going through. I told him about Mr. Virgo working in the Food & Beverage industry all of his career. He lit up and we began a long discussion comparing notes of who worked where and when. This is something I always found fascinating with Mr. Virgo. No matter where we were, he could find someone who knew someone and there was always common ground. It made me smile.

I told him our story. I told him about going out to buy the camper and how he died while we were looking. I told him about buying the little camper and taking it out in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado. I told him about selling my house and buying the big camper and getting rid of 95% of my personal belongings. I told him about being on the road in the camper and writing about it and how I came to know Janine. Then, I told him the happy ending of the story…running into Mr. FixIt and how we are just about ready to celebrate our 1st Wedding Anniversary.

A happy ending. It’s never “The End” though…is it. Mr. Virgo died. But it wasn’t the end. It was the end of many things…but not of him. Or of me. There is always more story to be written…even when you cannot believe you can survive another moment after such a painful loss. Being away, doing something different, learning new things, expanding my territory. All these things offer a lovely perspective of life. I can’t think how my life could be any more perfect than what it is. I am so incredibly grateful. Telling my story gives me this gift every single time.

❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
James 1:17 NIV

Forever 62...

Tue, 10 Sep 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Mr. Virgo…Forever 62…and still handsome as ever.”

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mr. Virgo. You would have been sixty-nine today. Would you have been retired by now? Would we have pulled that camper all over the country? Would our golf game be any better? It’s hard to say, but my guess is…we would have been out hitting some balls today.

My life is so different now…I do different things. I camp and write about it. I grieve and write about it. I got married again…and I write about it! Nothing is safe anymore…it’s all blog fodder. But in a good way.

I remember all the stages, all the phases, all the fear and pain and anger your loss caused me. I remember it all. At the same time, the edges are fuzzy. A little out of focus. The only words I can hear your voice say in my mind anymore is “I love you, baby doll.” I can picture your hands…your earlobes…your hair. It’s like I can see all the pieces of the puzzle but I cannot seem to piece them all together and put together a workable picture of you. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes its a Godsend.

As I always tell my readers, the pain of grief is always much, much worse when I’m tired. Sunday night, I could not get to sleep. And the longer it went on, the more focused I became on being away. I knew I’d be tired. And I knew the waves could hit any minutes, even if you never crossed my mind.

I finally drifted off for about 20 minutes and woke up freezing. I turned off the fan, threw a blanket over me, and went to sleep for…maybe a half hour. This time, I woke up overheated, sweating profusely, and anxious/nauseated/jittery. I finally got up, turned the fan back on, and got sick.

Grief.

Waves of seemingly unending grief have dwindled to the rare bad night. Sunday night was it. I hate disturbing Mr. FixIt if I’m jumping up and down all night so I moved to the guest room, took something for my upset stomach, and finally slipped into a sound sleep for four or five hours. This is the way it works now. The fact that I am happily married doesn’t seem to phase it. We never “get over it”….but we do learn how to hold our grief with soft hands so as to not wake up the beast.

It is your 69th. You are there with your mom and dad…and cousin-in-law Dennis…and now, your firstborn, Shannon. She has been with you for two years. I know you all are together and having a cigar on the back 9…watching the sunset.

I will always love you and remember you in so many ways. It’s funny how your shape in my life has changed over time. Each year you step a tiny bit further away. Your star shines a tiny bit less in my every day life…but you’re so much bigger in the grand moments. And still, every once it a while, a wave hits me and I have a bad night. Thank God, they are fewer and farther between.

So…

Happy Birthday, Mr. Virgo!

❤️

“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”
John 16:22 ESV

There is Another

Mon, 09 Sep 2019 01:30:03 -0600

“There is another who stands with us in the fire….always.”

I cannot tell you how many times I have felt alone in my life. Totally alone. Totally forgotten. Maybe not totally worthless…but pretty darned close sometimes. When I went through my formal conversion to Judaism just before my second child was born, part of the process was to sit before the Bet Din…the Jewish Tribunal Court that determines your suitability. Did you learn all you needed to learn? Are you converting for your faith…or for your husband? How will you accomplish the very important aspect of the Jewish faith…being a contributing member of the synagogue?

These were the easy questions. I had already lived a Jewish life for 12 years. This conversion was merely a formality so that our child would be considered by other Jews to be Jewish once she was born. The difficult question came last.

“Do you renounce Jesus as your personal savior?”

I thought I would fly through these questions without giving them a second thought. But this question….this…betrayal to all I had learned as a child hit something deep within me I didn’t even realize was there. But what was I to do? I was pregnant out to here and my nice Jewish doctor-husband was sitting on the other side of the door, waiting for me.

“I have obligations to my family,” I thought to myself. “I have people depending on me to show up as a Jew…not the least of which is my unborn child.”

So, I said yes…and that’s where the trouble started. I felt God…I don’t know…step back, for lack of a better description. From that moment on…for the next ten years…I felt alone. Forsaken, as I had forsaken Jesus. Granted, I had not recognized him as the Son of God at that point. I had never invited Him into my life. I had never given over to Him and called Him Lord. I guess, in that moment, I realized He was still in the back of my mind. He was still there. That is, until I kicked Him to the curb in the office of the synagogue that cold and sunny January day.

I didn’t deserve Him. I had shunned Him. I felt there was no forgiveness for such an action and that was where I was left. Dying on the vine from the inside out. Ten years later, after an overdose nearly killed me, I started my long journey back to life and along the way…praise God…I was brought to my knees at the foot of the Cross and came home to Jesus in 2005. Nearly fifteen years ago.

What I’ve learned since then is this: I was never alone in the fire. God was always there with me, no matter how far I tried to push Him away. I spent that whole decade feeling alone and unworthy…far from God on my side of the fence. Yet He sat there patiently watching out for me, patiently waiting for me to cry out for him.

I think of myself as a parent…how sad I have been at times when my children’s focus has them far away from me and how joyful I feel when they call, or reach out to me for something even as mundane as a family recipe. This must be how God feels when we reach our arms out to Him to be held. Like any parent…He loves His children. Like any parent…He rejoices when His children love Him back.

❤️

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.”
Psalms 36:7 ESV

Soft Hands

Thu, 05 Sep 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“Hold people’s hearts softly…with open hands.”

I’ve learned to have soft hands in my relationships. I’m not talking about getting a mani or using the latest lotions and potions. I’m talking about holding my relationships softly. I’ve learned a lot about relationships over my life. I’ve certainly had enough of them. I used to be embarrassed to say Mr. FixIt is my fourth marriage. I mean, would it have been nice to celebrate my 50th Anniversary with the man I married in 1973? Well…if it WOULD have been nice, I’d still be married to him now, wouldn’t I? Same goes for the one I married in 1979.

When I married Mr. Virgo in 2007, I truly believed it was my last marriage and we would grow old together. Then 2013 happened, and that dream was shattered by his untimely death at the age of 62. I was only 59, but I swore I would never, ever get married again. “No one could ever measure up.” “My heart could never take that again.” “I’ve already used up three women’s quotas…I’m done.”

I had every reason in the book to never do this again…then Mr. FixIt came along and God granted me another chance at happiness. I’ve been able to use a lot of the lessons I learned in my first three marriages and use them in my new marriage…my LAST marriage.

I knew nothing when I married my first husband…as is true with most people, I suppose. We were so very young…I was only 19, he was 20. We argued…a lot. We had a baby straight away and we were separated before she was two. I learned a lot about what I didn’t want in that marriage.

Hubby #2 was my longest marriage…20 years. And the divorce was extremely painful. When I look back on that marriage, I realize I held onto my husband with tight fists. I was jealous of his coworkers. The nurses and medical staff, the female doctors…well, anyone really. I spent my entire relationship wondering when he would leave me for some talented, intelligent, good looking, young thing. I held on so tightly neither one of us could breathe and the relationship became toxic.

By the time Mr. Virgo came along, I was looking for what I DID want in a partner…not the other way around. I held him softly, but I held myself in an ironclad fist. My second marriage did not end by my choice, so I told myself I had to be the very best version of myself…the perfect wife…with Mr. Virgo or he might leave me, too. The marriage was much, much happier…don’t get me wrong. But it was a lot of work to try to be perfect all the time. In all honesty, I have no idea what might have come of that relationship had he not passed away. I can idealize it and say it was perfect, but no relationship is absolutely perfect. Really, really great is a glorious gift.

By the time Mr. FixIt came along, I was tired of being something…someONE…I was not. I knew if I ever had the opportunity to have another serious relationship and be married again, I was going to be a “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” kinda gal. Which works out really great because Mr. FixIt is a “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” kinda guy. I love our relationship because we aren’t guarded around each other. We’re easy with each other. We hold each other’s hearts, but with soft, open hands.

You see, what I finally learned…and trust me, I’m a slow learner…what I finally learned was this: If you hold your love’s heart in the soft, open palm of your hand and he flies away…he was not yours to begin with. And, without the tight grip of jealousy and fear of abandonment, the relationship can breathe and grow.

I never once questioned Mr. Virgo’s commitment to me, yet I still held a piece of my heart tightly in my clenched fists for fear he’d leave like the last one and break my heart. It never occurred to me it would be his death that would crush me. I don’t question Mr. FixIt’s commitment either, and I haven’t held anything back. It’s liberating. Can I get crushed again. Yes, of course. But death has taught me I can survive anything so I don’t live in fear anymore. I have soft hands. And that is a much more graceful way to live.

❤️

“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.”
Philippians 4:5 NIV

The Other Side of Fear

Wed, 04 Sep 2019 01:30:51 -0600

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” Jack Canfield

I hear from a lot of widows who face fear as one of their most difficult symptoms of grief. Fear of the unknown…fear of being alone…fear of other people’s motives. Navigating grief is difficult enough on it’s own. Add fear, anxiety, and even full blown panic attacks and it ratchets grief up to an unbearable level.

I’ve always had a bit of an anxious nature. Anticipatory social anxiety. Commonly called “stage fright”. I’ve come a long way in learning to control it. Sometimes it bothers me. Sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve learned the things I most want to do lie on the other side of that fear, so I have to figure out ways to get through to the other side in order to find my bliss.

The fear I felt early on after losing Mr. Virgo was different than my usual pre-speech jitters. It was hold-onto-the-edge-of-the-mattress-all-night awful. Through trial and error, I’ve learned a lot of skills…tools for my tool box, so to speak. If I feel myself amping up, one of the things that almost immediately calms me down is listening to praise music. If I’m singing at the top of my lungs, its really difficult to be scared.

I’ve had so many people tell me they would really love to take off camping or traveling by themselves but they are too scared. The bottom line any grief mentor should take is honoring what others are and are not capable of. That being said, if it really is something you want to do, there are ways you can ease into scary situations without jumping in with both feet.

Finding a like-minded friend to do things with can help a lot when it comes to doing new things. Taking little baby steps helps, as well. If your dream is to take a month long trip to Europe but you have panic attacks going to the grocery store, you need to desensitize yourself. Start with little excursions. A short day trip. Repeat till you’re comfortable. Then an overnight, then two…you get the idea. Getting professional help can go a long way toward building your confidence and getting down to the root of the issues you face.

When I was planning the trip to Colorado, my biggest concerns were the social obligations of my daughter’s wedding and being so far away from Mr. FixIt. Losing Mr. Virgo so suddenly brings the possibility of a repeat to the forefront of my imagination. So, yeah…that makes me nervous. The night before the trip, my stomach was in knots but I did my routine and the next morning, I was good to go. It’s not the actual DOING that bothers me…it’s the anticipation. And, sometimes I just have to do the thing and feel the fear.

I’m really excited about the opportunity to take this new camper around. There’s nothing about it that scares me, per se. I may have pre-trip jitters the night before. I may not. Knowing what it is, knowing how to redirect my thinking, knowing just what I need to do helps me feel less out of control and more confident in my own abilities.

What I want is often on the other side of fear, but that’s exactly what makes the experience so much richer. I know exactly what I had to get through to get there and that makes me brave! After all…so far, I have survived every single experience I’ve encountered in my life!

❤️

“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you."”
Deuteronomy 31:6 ESV

Random Acts of Kindness...Senseless Acts of Beauty

Tue, 03 Sep 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“My grandma always said you can catch a lot more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.”

About thirty years ago, a woman named Anne Herbert wrote something on a placemat in a restaurant. “Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.” Since then, countless posters, books, t-shirts, and movies have incorporated this idea of doing something for others…some kindness…without expecting anything in return. Things like paying for the person behind you in the drive through at the local coffee shop. Or, leaving a basket of flowers on someone’s doorstep. Or, something I like to do every once in a while….put a sticky note on a $5 bill with a note like “God loves you!”…then tuck it in a book at the library or a book store.

Practicing random acts of kindness didn’t start with Ms. Herbert, of course. The original practitioner was Jesus, of course…and we would do well to strive to emulate Him. Being a good person seems to be rapidly going out of style. My dad wasn’t what you would call a profound thinker, but he said one thing that always stuck with me. “Computers will be the downfall of mankind.” I think I rolled my eyes when he said that. But maybe he wasn’t so far off.

I don’t think it’s computers, per se, that will be the downfall of man. I think it’s how computers are used. Social media has created a monster. It’s given people a voice who may never have had one. It’s placed a filter between people….it’s created an US against THEM atmosphere. And, it has taken away the social filter of eye contact, allowing whatever vitriol that comes to mind to flow through the keyboard without repercussion. Cyber bullying isn’t limited to 8th grade girls and misunderstood emo boys.

I will have to say…thankfully there has been very little in the way of nastiness on this page. I won’t tolerate it and the few times it’s happened, the instigator has been blocked and the offending message deleted. That isn’t the case everywhere. It’s hard to judge the “tone” of a message when it’s written. All it takes is one “rude” comment to unleash a flood of bullying back and forth…and that’s with grown adults!

It’s a new month. School is back in session. I don’t want to wait for Christmas to have the good feels. Let’s go out today and do kind things for people. If it’s not new to you, great! Keep up the good work! If it’s been a while and you’d like to rectify that situation, go out there and do something nice for someone today. And if someone does something nice for you, pay it forward.

We attract to us what we dish out. If we are negative and uncaring, we just get more of the same. If we are kind and loving, there is a better chance of attracting that same kindness and love. If it doesn’t come right away…keep trying. It never hurts to spread good vibes around the world.

❤️

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

The Tug of War

Mon, 02 Sep 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Angel on one hand, devil on the other…trying to have their way with me.”

Mr. FixIt and I haven’t had a lot of time together this summer. I was gone a lot and, even though he joined me for three weeks in Colorado, we both have been working nonstop at this and that since we got home the first week of August. Here it is September already and I’m already preparing to leave again.

We miss being together and we both know the importance of devoting time to our relationship. It’s been really nice this weekend because we took three days off for some much needed R&R. When I woke up yesterday, I was tired. My allergies have been giving me fits creating fluid in my ears which sometimes makes me dizzy. I laid in bed for twenty minutes telling myself it was perfectly fine to stay home…we didn’t have to go to church. I mean…it’s just this once, right? We go almost every Sunday when we are home. That deserves a day off to sleep in. I just didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like going.

As I let these thoughts run through my mind, I was almost convinced to turn over and go back to sleep when a stern “voice” shook me from my reverie.

“When you don’t FEEL like going is exactly when you NEED to go!”

I quite literally jumped out of bed.

Ohhhhh….my thinker was what was “sick”. Church is the place it gets healed.

When I’m thinking I don’t need to go to church is exactly when I need it the most. And yesterday, I am not kidding…church felt like plugging in my jet pack. I got fed the energy and grace and love and lessons I needed and I left there convicted. Convinced the place to feel better is to draw closer to Jesus, not turn over and go back to sleep.

It’s not enough to go every Sunday and get plugged in, hoping the charge lasts till the following Sunday. That obviously didn’t work last week because I easily could have opted out. My tug of war pitted the proverbial angel on one hand and devil on the other…each trying to pull me to their side. I know I can’t ever go wrong when I choose Jesus.

The key is to draw closer…constantly. The Bible says we are to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). The way to do that is to turn whatever you are doing into worship. Whether you are singing in the choir or scrubbing toilets, it can be done with a tone of worship and praise. And when we pray, we are to devote ourselves “to prayer, keeping alert in it with an attitude of thanksgiving” (Colossians 4:2)

Just that boost, and the conviction to keep close, has given me rest and regeneration. I feel so much better and not nearly so overwhelmed by all I need to accomplish in the next two weeks. I came to the farm after church…to my place of meditation…to the home of my heart…and enjoyed a quiet evening while Mr. FixIt bowled. Today, I’ll go back home and get some work done. Perhaps I’ll pressure wash the deck!

❤️

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2 NIV

Dining Alone

Sun, 01 Sep 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“Dining alone can be an intimidating experience when you are widowed.”

I saw her walk into the restaurant with the rest of us “early birds”. The waitress came up to her table and handed her a menu.

“Just one?”

I’m sure I’m the only one in the restaurant that saw the shadow of pain skitter across her face.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

sigh

I wanted to smack the perky waitress but decided at some point in the meal, this would become a teaching moment.

When we walked in, there were friends sitting in a booth near the front of the restaurant. They called to us to join them. The woman dining alone sat nearby. Our friends lost their son a couple of years ago. Eventually, our conversation included him…mentioning him by name, telling a funny story or two, comforting her and telling her at two years, it’s still ok to cry. It’s always ok to cry.

The waitress came back to give us our check and I chose that moment to speak to the woman dining alone. We made direct eye contact.

“I remember the first time I went to a restaurant alone after my husband died.”

She looked at me steadily. I recognized the sadness in her eyes. I sat there…many times.

“It doesn’t really help to be asked…’Oh…you’re alone?’ The first time I went to our favorite restaurant, I opened my iPad and pulled up my favorite picture of my husband and propped him up on the table so I didn’t feel so alone.”

“Yes…it’s really hard. Especially when someone comes up to you after a year and a half and asks ‘Where’s Paul?’”

The waitress whirled around. It just dawned on her what had happened. She opened her mouth to say something and I quickly said, “It’s not your fault. You aren’t clairvoyant so you had no way of knowing.” But now she’ll be more aware the next time someone comes in unaccompanied.

As we were leaving, I glanced over at the woman dining alone and gave her a long, knowing look and a gentle smile. She smiled back and waved.

God moments. He gives us the people we need to help…and to help us.

❤️

“He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing.”
Deuteronomy 10:18 NIV

GRIEF + TIME = grief

Thu, 29 Aug 2019 01:30:48 -0600

“Grief is a process that varies from person to person…but there are some general similarities.”

The other day I read a Tweet that stopped me in my tracks. A woman said she had cut her two best friends completely out of her life because in the entire year after her niece died, neither one of them bothered to check in with her. Her comment came after someone checked in…a full two years after her tragic loss. He texted her with a very simple message…

“I’m just checking in to see how you are coping after the death of your niece.”

Simple. To the point. And, so welcomed it brought her to tears.

It prompted me to reflect. When was the last time I checked in with my friends who have lost loved ones? I get so wrapped up in my “work”, my “ministry”, with the bereaved, I forget to reach out and connect myself sometimes.

Last night I spent a good two hours writing quick texts to several of my peeps who had lost someone significant in the last couple of years. I heard back from them and the response was universal…”You have no idea what it means to have someone remember to ask how I’m doing!” “Thank you SO much for checking in…it means so much to me!” “My own kids don’t even want to listen!”

It’s true…once a “reasonable amount of time” passes, people move on with their lives. And, unless they have been bereaved, they may not understand that you haven’t. I remember how I felt abandoned. Like no one cared anymore. That isn’t true, of course. They just don’t have a point of reference for the depth of your pain and…it would scare the crap out of them if they believed that depth of pain could possible last more than a few months.

There is no way to compare your own experience with that of another. Your grief is different than my grief. And it doesn’t matter how your person died…your grief is the worst grief ever because it is your own. But truly, I’m here to tell you, there is some grief that I cannot begin to imagine. Like the mother whose son was murdered by terrorists and left to die on the roadside. Or the mother whose daughter was found dead three days after a heroin overdose. Or the wife who returned from the grocery store to find her husband dead on the back porch from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

There are so many stories in the work that I do. It breaks my heart into little pieces. And, it makes me think, “If he had to die, at least it wasn’t like that!” I find myself feeling grateful it was “only a heart attack.” I didn’t have to watch him slowly fade away from the ravages of cancer.

As I talked to my friend whose son was killed a little over a year ago, I thought back over the years since Mr. Virgo died. And, while there isn’t some neat and tidy delineation from year to year, there is some general sense of first, second, third, etc.

The first year is such a fog. You are numb. You are just trying to get the next thing done, the next paper filed, the next account closed. Closet? Check. Accounts? Check. Cellphone? Check. The first year becomes a blur…a cross between busy and madness.

The second year can be surprisingly rough…like you are standing in high tide during a storm surge. Your footing shifts like the sand beneath you in the ocean. Each wave hitting you blindly, knocking you beneath the surface. And…you can’t swim. Not even close.

At some point along the way…you hear it. A little snippet of music. A little bubble of laughter. A little glimmer of color peeking through a stormy sky. And that’s when the tides begin to shift a little. The waves not quite so hard. Or…maybe we’ve become better swimmers.

For me, the third year gave me a little breathing room. It was a period of exploration and self-discovery. A time of reaching out and stretching beyond my past and stepping a bit more boldly into the future.

The fourth, and beyond, found me building a boat to carry me over the waves till the next storm comes.

I listened intently to my friend sharing her grief. I asked questions. I resisted the urge to share my experiences except to say the occasional “Yes! I get that…I felt that, too!” It was amazingly comforting to me when I found others shared some of the same things I was experiencing. At some point in our conversation, she asked…

”How is your life?”

“I feel bad sharing how wonderful my life is when yours sucks so terribly,” I said.

“No…don’t ever feel bad about that! Your story gives me hope!”

And that…in a nutshell…is what keeps me going. It keeps me telling stories…even when you hurt…even when I hurt. Because life keeps going on around us whether our sense of time has stopped or whether death has taken the joy from our hearts. I write about Jesus and faith. I write about grief. I write about pain. I write about love and joy and rocking babies. I write about travel, and camping, and becoming strong. I write about farms and mowing and fried green tomatoes. I write about life and all it’s little bits…both good and bad.

But mostly…I write about hope.

❤️

“You are my refuge and my shield; your word is my source of hope.”
Psalms 119:114 NLT

When Bad Things Happen...Lean In Closer

Wed, 28 Aug 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“Thank you so much for all of your prayers. I am so grateful.”

Since June, there has been one catastrophic event after another befall my friends and family. Cancer, Stillbirth, Mental Heath Crises, Accidents, Illness, Death. One after another after another. I’ve heard it said “Bad things happen in threes.” Try three TIMES three…and then some!

I once read the book “When Bad Things Happen to Good People” by Harold Kushner. The author is a Conservative Rabbi and the book addressed the long standing debate: If God is loving and caring, how can so many bad things happen to good people? While the book was written in 1981, I turned to it in 2001 after 9/11.

I had a difficult time reconciling a loving, omnipresent Deity “allowing” something so heinous to happen to thousands of innocent people. No doubt, people who loved Him, and worshiped Him whose only fault of the day was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I must admit, I was not yet a Christian on 9/11. It would be another three years before I took that leap of faith and surrendered to a God so much bigger than me. I was full of righteous anger that a “loving God” would allow this to happen. I could not wrap my head around it. I went to a psychiatrist and asked him for guidance. I was given a version of “these things happen”. Then I went to a Rabbi and asked him, “Where was God today???”

“He was there,” he said. “He was under the desks with the mothers as they called frantically to tell their loved ones goodbye. He was in the stairwells with the brave men who were helping the injured trying to escape the chaos. He was with the First Responders as they rushed into the flaming buildings, knowing full well they may not come back out alive. And many did not.

He was on the planes with the terrified passengers and crew members. He held steady those that made a mad rush on the terrorists over Pennsylvania. He was with the unsuspecting workers in the Pentagon and the Towers. God was everywhere, crying out in anguish as life after life was snuffed out.

God does not punish us with cruelty. He does not take pleasure in our pain. But what He DOES do is turn those terrifying moments into opportunities to lean into Him. To call out for Him. To have faith that, even in the darkest moments, He never forsakes us.

And that brings me to the events that have cast a shadow over my circle of friends and family…those I hold most dear and those whom I only know through others. We ask ourselves why these things happen, one on top of the other and the only answer there could be is…this is the nature of life.

As Stephen Colbert so eloquently stated on the subject of grief and the loss of his father and two brothers in a plane crash when he was ten: about learning to “love the thing that I most wish had not happened.” He went on to say: “It’s a gift to exist and with existence comes suffering. There’s no escaping that. What do you get from loss? You get awareness of other people’s loss, which allows you to connect with that other person, which allows you to love more deeply and to understand what it’s like to be a human being if it’s true that all humans suffer.”

I hate that my loved ones and friends are suffering. I wish I could take that pain away from them. But, if by doing so, I would rob them of the awareness of other people’s loss and subsequent connection with them, then I am denying them their humanness…their connectedness. I would rob them of the opportunity to love more deeply and to truly understand what it’s like to be human.

What I CAN do for them is to be there for them, to hold a sacred, safe space for them to come to and grieve. And I can encourage them to seek a closer relationship with their higher power, which for me personally is God.

Our pastor said something the other day that struck me. I’m paraphrasing, but it went something like this: When disaster strikes you and you wail in your grief, this is normal. But lean in very close and put your ear to God’s lips and listen.

He is closest to the brokenhearted.

❤️

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
Psalms 34:18 NLT

A Thousand Dragonflies

Mon, 26 Aug 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“The dragonflies are prolific this year!”

I love dragonflies. They serve a good purpose by eating mosquitos and other flying insects and they don’t bite humans! I am charmed by them. They will light on your finger or your shoulder. They hover around you as if to keep you company or to satisfy their curiosity. The other day I was leaving the doctor’s office and one flew alongside my window for at least a quarter mile. They make me smile.

Mr. FixIt and I were out cleaning the pool on Saturday and there was a dragonfly floating dead in the water. We both remarked how many more dragonflies there are the last couple of years. I did some research and found it’s because of all the rain we’ve been getting. With more rain comes more mosquitoes and consequently, the predators are in hot pursuit.

Somehow, I missed a big spot when I was mowing Saturday so I went out after church yesterday to finish up. I sat at the edge of the field in awe at the number of dragonflies hovering around me. From the website, Dragonfly Transitions, comes this: “In almost every part of the world, the Dragonfly symbolizes change, transformation, adaptability, and self-realization. The change that is often referred to has its source in mental and emotional maturity and understanding the deeper meaning of life.”

Change. Transformation. Adaptability. Self-Realization. If that doesn’t describe my life, I don’t know what does. This year has been, and continues to be one of remarkable opportunities…for travel, for growth, for learning…for becoming MORE. I love this, because the moment we stop growing, we die. Maybe not literally…but figuratively. A stagnant life is a fate worse than death for me.

I’ve said several times in the last week that I’ve been thinking a lot of my mom. I’ve been really missing her…more so than usual. As I was working with my calendar last night, I noticed today’s date. August 26th. My mom’s birthday. She’s been gone fifteen years now. She would have been 93 today. She died six weeks before her first great grandchild was born. As I sat rocking my second great grandchild in church yesterday, I thought of my mom and how much she loved children. She worked in the YWCA Daycare program and was the resident Grandma to hundreds of little ones. You couldn’t see her at work without some little person sitting on her lap at her desk.

I was thinking it would be great to relate Mom to the appearance of the dragonflies…for the purposes of this essay, at least. But, I have no idea if she loved dragonflies. She probably did. I do know she loved the color purple…and roses, books, peaches, piccalilli, tchotchkes, helping people, and genealogy. She loved her grandchildren. And she was totally devoted to my brother who has cerebral palsy.

No…we have dragonflies because it’s been a rainy year. And, I miss my mom so much because today’s her birthday. Two unrelated events, but yet both are symbolic of transformation and adaptability.

Here’s to Wanda Belle…an amazing and humble woman. Everyone who knew her, loved her and misses her. Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mama!

❤️

“So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy.”
John 16:22 NLT

Singing with Jesus

Sun, 25 Aug 2019 01:30:39 -0600

“Mr. FixIt says our pear trees have never produced…he thought they were ornamental. This year, they’re loaded!”

The other day I had to have a fasting blood draw for some tests. When I came out of the lab, I was humming a praise song as I walked through the lobby. “Your promise still stands…great is your faithfulness, your faithfulness.”

The woman in front of me turned around and gave me a huge smile and said, “You must be really happy! I’m a singer, too. I’m always walking around singing.”

I smiled back. “Well, Jesus is always with me and we love to sing together.”

She stopped and looked at me and said, “That’s a really good thing. I like that!”

Yesterday was a busy day. We had our class picnic in the afternoon. Then, Mr. FixIt went to help someone with a move and I went home and mowed five acres. Then I cleaned the pool. When I mow the lawn, I use a pair of ear protectors that have Bluetooth speakers in them so I can listen to the music on my phone. I crank up my worship music and once in a while I have to laugh when I catch myself driving with one hand and praising with the other!

Mr. FixIt came home when I was just finishing cleaning the pool. He was kind enough to deal with back flushing the pump for me so I didn’t have to keep getting out of the pool to do it. There is a decided turn in the temperatures that have put the unmistakable tinge of fall in the air. Mr. FixIt said the temp was 54 yesterday morning and very foggy when he left to work on the porch he’s building with a friend.

And today is church day…my favorite day of every single week! See you this evening for Sunday Evening Prayer Circle!

❤️

“Yet we hear that some of you are living idle lives, refusing to work and meddling in other people’s business. We command such people and urge them in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ to settle down and work to earn their own living. As for the rest of you, dear brothers and sisters, never get tired of doing good.”
2 Thessalonians 3:11-13 NLT

Another Trip Down Memory Lane

Sat, 24 Aug 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“A trip down memory lane takes me to the neighborhood grocery store.”

Do you remember when women dressed up to go to the grocery store? I ran across this picture on Facebook last night when I was searching for something else and it just brought back such a flood of memories. I love looking at all the details. Diet Pepsi was a thing…even in the mid ‘60s. Some of us were debating whether this was a staged photo-op because of the total on the cash register.

Look at the uniforms the store clerks wore! The “K” on the lapels was for Kroger. Their stores operate under a lot of brands now…King Soopers, City Market, Smiths, among others. And the manager of any store, grocery or otherwise, wouldn’t be caught dead without his short sleeved white shirt and tie.

Notice the machine on top of the cash register. Do you remember what that was? It was the stamp dispenser. I believe the stamps dispensed at Kroger’s were Value Stamps. They were yellow. Other stores had Green Stamps and Plaid Stamps. I remember my first stuffed toy was a donkey I named Pedro. He was stuffed with excelsior…or wood wool. It was made from wood shavings that were about the size of spaghetti. My first roller skates were from the Plaid Stamp store. And, we got a lot of things with Green Stamps…dishes, a laundry hamper, my trash can with the pink poodle on it.

My first boyfriend, who later became Hubby #1, worked at the Kroger Store in the Park Shopping Center. That was back in the days before malls. The shopping center stole a lot of business from the stores downtown and when the mall opened, it was pretty much the death of the downtown shops.

I remember stopping at the grocery store and watching the stockers use a pricing stamp and put the price in ink on the top of the cans. click, click, click, click, click. They’d stamp a case at a time. Then the checker had to hand enter each price into the cash register. I remember the first time I saw a guy working at the checkout stand. He might as well have been a zebra, he looked that out of place.

My very first job was at Kresge’s as a clerk, stocking and working the cash register. I never worked in a grocery store. I did stock shelves for a short time at the PX at Lowry Air Force Base in Denver when we first moved there till I could find a job in radiology. Ahhhh, I look back at my humble beginnings.

I’m at an age now where there’s a whole lot less time in front of me than there is behind me and I wax nostalgic when I see pictures like this. Maybe not so much for the jobs I had in my teens, but more for my mom. I see her in her dress and heels, coming from the office where she worked. Driving us in that big boat of a car and stopping at the store for a few groceries. Her hair carefully coiffed at the beauty college every Saturday. Sitting demurely while the young man in the skinny tie pumped her gas and washed her windshield and checked her oil. I remember her soft skin and her wet kisses, her cool hands on my fevered brow. I remember her sitting by my bedside when I had the mumps and read to me…until she too came down with them and Grandma had to come take care of us AND her.

I’ve missed my mom a lot lately. I opened YouTube the other night and on the landing page where there were a dozen or so suggested videos, there was a woman getting her snowy white hair cut short and I swear…she looked so much like my mom it made my eyes sting. I showed it to my friends that knew her and they agreed. My mom’s boss is still living and even she said it was remarkable how much the woman resembled my mom.

It’s not that I “long for the good old days”. I just miss my mom.

Grief…even for those lost so long ago…still comes in a wave. Not a tsunami anymore…but sometimes it’s big enough to rock my footing. There’s so much I’d love to show her. I think she would have really loved camping in a trailer or a motor home. Sometimes I just take her on a trip in my mind and I imagine all the places we’d go and things we’d see. She wasn’t well traveled, although she did come to England when Daughter #1 was born and she came to Colorado several times. She went to the beach once with my BFF in her little convertible.

Speaking of nostalgia, my high school class picnic is today. I saw on FB the Class of ‘69 had their 50th Reunion this weekend. That means only two years to ours. Where did the time go? I remember when my aunt and uncle went to their 50th and I thought they were so OLD. They were only 15 years or so older than me! Funny…the perspective from the other end was so long and from this end it’s so short.

We’ve finally had a break in the weather and it’s much cooler. The high was only 74 yesterday. It should be about the same today. I hope you enjoy your weekend!

❤️

“Don’t long for “the good old days.” This is not wise.”
Ecclesiastes 7:10 NLT

Freda the Ford Got New Shoes!

Fri, 23 Aug 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“New tires for the truck! Getting ready for the next Grand Adventure!”

I’ve been putting off getting new tires for my truck, but with a five month epic camping trip coming up, I couldn’t wait any longer. Mr. FixIt scoured the internet and found a good set of Michelin tires through Walmart. You pretty much have to order tires and wait for them anymore. Not that many places carry a big inventory.

We went out for supper after I finished with the tire ordeal (three and a half hours for a predicted one and a half hour wait). When we came out of the restaurant, we decided to take my truck for a spin on the interstate so we could feel and make sure the tires were balanced correctly. And…we had to go to Sam’s.

One of my readers sent a message asking me which exact mattress we purchased (a Queen Size Sealy “Mattress-to-Go” 12” Luxury Memory Foam Mattress) so I went on the Sam’s app to copy the link. And what did I find? The same mattress we paid $499 for, and was delivered to the house the day before, was now $100 cheaper! We discussed it over dinner and decided to go back to Sam’s and complain.

The little gal at the customer service desk was so sweet, but she couldn’t really help us because we ordered the mattress via the .com route and their numbers/system is different than the club’s. She gave me the phone number for the .com people and after being on hold for-ev-er, I was connected to the “Sealy People”. I explained to Gina, the very helpful agent, that I probably wouldn’t say a thing if the mattress was $20 cheaper the next day, but $100 is a little bit hard to swallow.

You know what she did? She said, “I can totally understand. Let me fix that.” I heard the tap-tap-tap of a keyboard in the background. “There! I credited your account the $100. Well, $100 plus tax. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Are you kidding? It was that easy! I said, “No. But I have to tell you…you made my day!” Kudos to Gina in Customer Service at Sam’s Club. She rocks!

When we went back out to the truck, I saw something on my front tire. I went in for a close look and there were little areas that looked like the tread was separating from the tire. Neither Mr. FixIt nor I have ever seen something like that, so now I have to take the truck back in this morning and have the tire folks at Walmart have a peek at the tires. It’s always something, isn’t it?

This afternoon I have an appointment at the Ford dealer to have them go over the truck and make sure there’s nothing lurking in the background that needs fixed. I have to give my Ford dealer kudos, as well. They never try to push something unnecessary on me. As a matter of fact, when I had them do this last year, they didn’t even charge me. I love those guys!

I’m getting all my ducks in a row so when I head out on the next Grand Adventure, I’ll be confident and secure in my towing equipment. When women travel alone, they should do all their homework ahead of time so there isn’t a crazy rush at the end. I’ve learned this from entirely too much experience, I’m afraid. This is getting exciting!

❤️

“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.”
Proverbs 22:3 NIV

Always Choose Joy. Unless You Can’t...

Wed, 21 Aug 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“Here’s to the compassionate people!”

I’ve been on a JOY kick all year. Ok. I get it. I just got married in October and I’m full of the feels. But yesterday, I got a reminder that sometimes…no matter how much you WANT to…joy eludes you for an indeterminate amount of time.

I belong to a few widow’s support groups on Facebook. I have cockily thought to myself from time to time that I certainly don’t NEED a widow’s support group anymore. That is, until I DO. Then I am ever so grateful for those who share and lift each other up, no matter where they land on the grief/time continuum.

There have been times when I read about the desperate sadness we as the bereaved quite normally go through and my heart breaks for them. I think of all the times I didn’t think I could go on. I think of all the wonderful people who supported and loved me through the most horrific event I have experienced up to this moment in time. There were people I didn’t even know…you readers…who lifted me and helped me move forward, even as I tried to lift others.

But yesterday there was a post that garnered a good deal of pushback and it gave me pause. Basically, this person was saying…just choose joy. That’s a gross simplification, but that was the bottom line. Just choose joy. It made me think about my cheerleading and jumping on the JOY TRAIN and how it may seem dismissive of those who are still in the active throes of grief.

It’s damned hard to find joy when the person who was so much your SOURCE of joy is no longer here. I know this in the core of my being. When I was in my darkest dark place in grief, I truly felt I would never find a glimmer of happiness in this lifetime again…let alone JOY. And yes…you DO have to make a lot of choices in this new normal. One of them is choosing to keep living. Choosing to keep trying. Choosing to keep moving forward no matter HOW hard it is or lonely or heart breaking.

We choose to do this for others….our kids, our parents, our friends…even our person who “would want me to live my life”. Eventually, it is my fervent HOPE that we choose to do this for ourselves.

I have been guilty of using the word “choose” a little too blithely, I’m afraid. And if I have, and it has caused you pain, may I offer my humblest apologies. It is not easy to choose when you are in overwhelming pain. It’s not that I forgot this…but maybe I push it a bit too far out of reach to mentor as effectively as I would like to.

I want you to have hope. I want you to find joy. I want you to experience good things in your life again. I know it CAN happen…I’m proof. It just needs to happen in its own time. And when you DO experience what passes as joy, it may not look the same as someone else’s and that’s ok. I just wanted you to know…I haven’t forgotten those of you whose hearts are so incredibly crushed. I will strive to always hold a sacred space for you here.

❤️

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.”
Psalm 119:50 NIV

Bowling Season Has Begun

Mon, 19 Aug 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“Pink roses and strawberries…and bowling season. Somebody loves me!”

Mr. FixIt is an avid bowler. He’s been on two bowling leagues for the last thirty-five years and he enjoys it immensely. He has friends there. He has ample opportunity to talk. It’s his guy time. And, I enjoy having a couple of evenings a week to do whatever I want to do as well. Honestly, I fell asleep late in the afternoon and didn’t hear him leave. When I woke up, I caught up with my Sunday evening phone calls and chats so it was a relaxing evening.

When he arrived home, he went into the kitchen to fix something to eat and we were trying to carry on a conversation while I was in the family room. He called out, “You know…I could hear you better if you were in here with me.” Of course! Sometimes we get so wrapped up in what we’re doing, we forget the basic manners and niceties we should offer those we love most.

I walked into the kitchen and there on the counter was a dozen pink roses and two cartons of fresh strawberries! I am always thunderstruck when he surprises me with these lovely unexpected gifts of love.

I looked at him and smiled. “What’s this?”

“It’s been a little while since I brought you flowers. It was time.” He smiled back.

What goodness this is…this life that is sweeter than any red strawberry…softer than any pink rosebud. This is a blessing. This is God’s gift to me. This man who lifts me up and celebrates who I am. Who cheers me on and encourages me to explore and be everything I can be. This man who holds my hand in church and prays alongside me. Who holds me and comforts me when I am sick or sad. I only pray I give him this same love back every day of my life.

There was so much sadness in my life after Mr. Virgo died. I swore I would never fall in love…never remarry…because the thought of going through that again was too much to bear. Then color came back into my life. And I could hear music and I could breathe and somehow I knew I could love again. I don’t know how long we have together…but it’s bowling season and I have strawberries and pink roses and my life is good.

❤️

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4 NIV

“Let The Sun Shine...”

Sun, 18 Aug 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“The Ubiquitous Photo from Woodstock”

Fifty years ago this weekend, a gazillion people descended on Mr. Yasgur’s New York farm just five hundred miles from where I grew up. What started out as a ticketed music event soon devolved into chaos as tens of thousands of unticketed hippies made their way into the tiny village of Bethel. The festival had already suffered a last minute change of venue and was seriously short on cash, but there came a point where Woodstock took on a life of its own.

Fifty years have passed. I didn’t go, of course. I was only sixteen and actually didn’t even hear about it till it was on the news. Not that I would have done something so brazen as to defy my parents because I know they never would have allowed me to go. I never even skipped a class in school, let alone run off to a hippy concert five hundred miles away. Still, I marveled at the mass of humanity. And, I liked the music.

It was such a crazy summer…the Summer of ‘69. The Summer of Love. That’s what we called it. But the older generations thought we young people were out of our minds. Sex, drugs, and Rock & Roll. And now look where we are. I saw a meme today. A grandpa was saying he fought in WWII and built his house with his own two hands. His great grandson said, “Sometimes I put a meme on Facebook and it gets a lot of likes.” That is so sad…and unfortunately, all too true.

We didn’t have the internet in 1969. We didn’t have the news on 24/7/365. We didn’t have violent video games. We didn’t have as many latch key kids and no iPad kids or YouTube kids. Dr. Spock was just beginning to tell us how to raise our kids and to never swat their butts or we would bruise their fragile self-esteems. I’ll tell you what, if I sassed back to my parents, they bruised my “self-esteem” with whatever was handy. I did the same with my kids. Nowadays, you can have your kids taken away for that. And they know it.

I remember Daughter #1 saying she was going to call Child Protective Services because I wouldn’t let her go to a party. I smiled and recited the number to her. Then I took her car keys. It’s hard to parent now. Having the grandkids over this week with their own little ones made me compare how easy I had it compared to what they are facing. And I didn’t have it all that easy.

After my first divorce, I was a single mom in Denver. My family lived in West Virginia. I didn’t have anyone I could leave the baby with while I went to work. I had to find child care…and pray they wouldn’t hurt my daughter. I lived in HUD housing, on food stamps and WIC. I drove a beat up old Pontiac that I paid some Iranians $200 for. The hood and the trunk were wired closed with coat hangers. All four sides were dented in. I prayed every day I could get to work so I could take care of us. I didn’t have a smart phone and five sets of grandparents to step in when I was overwhelmed.

God knows, I made plenty of mistakes in those early years. It’s a wonder we made it through. The music of 1969 was five years old before my daughter was born. I look back now in awe. I knew I’d be “old” someday. I just thought it would take longer. Oh, sixty-six isn’t OLD, exactly. I sure feel the difference, just in the last couple of years. Mr. FixIt and I work very hard and it’s taking it’s toll. I hurt in places that never hurt before. It takes me a bit to get moving. But, like my husband says…you’ve got to keep moving or you’ll stop.

Fifty years since Woodstock…and there’s a real part of me that genuinely feels a little past my prime. However, I’m about to take a brand new camper wherever I want for five months and write about it! Isn’t that just about the coolest thing? I wouldn’t take who I was in 1969 back for anything!

“Let the sun shine…let the sun shine in…the sun…shine in!”

❤️

“I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,”
2 Peter 1:13 NIV

The Metamorphosis of Grief

Thu, 15 Aug 2019 01:30:57 -0600

“The Farm. Clockwise from top left: Drying the laundry on the front porch is a country thing, Elderberries, A Rose of Sharon appeared from nowhere, Life is Simple, An Appalachian Pour Over, Blue granite pan used for dipping water out of the rain barrel.

Living in the country, you see many examples of metamorphosis. Where there once was a hairy caterpillar, there becomes a moth. Where there once was a striped green worm with a spiky tail, noshing on a milkweed leaf, there becomes a monarch butterfly. Where there once was a grub with legs, crawling up a tree and developing a hard shell, it soon splits and a locust emerges to call in the autumn season…signaling it’s time for school to start.

Just as there is a time for everything in its season, so it is with grief. I was thinking about this yesterday while I was trimming back the wild grape vines threatening to overtake the farm. When this blog began, I was fresh in my grief. I promised you then I would be honest and speak to you from my heart about exactly what it was like…at least for me…to go through the loss of my husband. There were times when it was so painfully ugly that it had to be difficult to read. Yet, so many of you have been here from the very beginning.

This blog goes through a metamorphosis every time something changes in my life. What started out as a method of pouring out my pain, morphed into learning how to navigate that. It changed and grew just as I changed and grew. It’s not just a grief blog, although there are hundreds of posts in the archives about grief. There was a time, when my grief had subsided to a nagging undercurrent, when I thought maybe I should just quit and make it all about grief. Just leave it there. But I couldn’t stop writing.

Writing became a part of me…as much a part of me as my hands and feet, my heart and lungs. So I decided to take you with me when I traveled, when I stepped into the dating arena, when I got married. I thought…ok, maybe I’m done now. Maybe I’ll just stop here. But, I kept living…and each new day brought a new experience, a new insight, and new lesson. And it became my devotional.

In a good cake recipe, bland ingredients like flour get mixed with sweet ingredients like sugar and butter. If baked with nothing else added, you wouldn’t have cake…you’d have some hard, flat, dry cardboard. But add eggs and leavening….take your time….and mix it well….and it rises high and beautiful. My life…my stories…my experiences are the flour and sugar. The scripture at the bottom of each post…illustrating my thinking in that particular moment…that’s the leavening. The eggs. The ingredient that makes the finished product perfect.

I know it’s not a grief blog so much anymore, even though I touch on the topic from time to time. That’s the nature of metamorphosis. Things are always changing…even grief. The numbing pain of the first year, the sharp pain of the second year, the personal growth of my third year, the stretching of my wings in the fourth, the explorations of the fifth, and finally…being remarried in the sixth…my grief has gone through its own metamorphosis and has settled into an undercurrent. A background noise that I have become accustomed to, yet it’s still very much there.

❤️

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”
2 Corinthians 3:18 ESV

The Farm is Failing

Wed, 14 Aug 2019 01:30:36 -0600

“The farm is the home of my heart…but it’s aging rapidly.”

Mr. FixIt and I have been back from Colorado for a week now. We talked over the weekend and decided to go to the farm for a couple of days because I haven’t been there since the third week of June. I really miss the farm when I’m away and can’t get there. Then, Monday morning came and there was so much to get done at the Ponderosa. Still…the farm…

I decided to bring the dirty laundry and come to the farm on my own for a couple of days. Mr. FixIt is capable of taking care of himself and, while he misses me…he understands my need to be at the farm sometimes. He’s a good guy.

There was a hard rain come through yesterday. I sat on the front porch and watched and it was soon over. The sun came out and the green dazzled my eyes. Everything was so clean and fresh. I sat for the longest time and just scoured the hillside and surrounding area…looking for differences.

The power line coming to the transformer on the pole in front of the house is noticeably drooping down low over the road. A tall vehicle could easily catch that. I’ll have to report it today. Also, the big pine tree on the bank seems to be leaning further out there over the driveway. I pulled up older pictures from the same vantage point to verify both the line and the tree. Something’s going to have to be done with that, too.

I noticed Monday afternoon, there’s a wild grape vine on the power line between the house and the cinderblock building. None of that was there before I left for Colorado. This monsoon summer has created an overgrowth the likes of which I have never seen here. It’s like a tropical rain forest.

When I did a walkabout yesterday, I noticed another tree on the hillside across the creek from the house that has split in half. But it appears the uphill half is actually falling up the hill. That has always been the main concern here. This little holler is so narrow, and the ground is shale and very soft. It wouldn’t take much to bring trees down on this house.

Maybe the earth is taking her back. Maybe it’s the natural progression of old farm houses. I do know, to bring this place back to life and prosperity would take far more money than it’s worth. And, a ton…an absolute TON of work. We’re not OLD…but we are 66 and 67. The other day, I told Mr. FixIt…if we were just 30 years younger, we could do so much with this place.

I think what I have to do is start saying goodbye to the old home place…in earnest. I know there will come a time when it isn’t safe to stay here without cutting down a bunch of trees…without upgrading the electricity…without shoring up the beams in the basement and the attic. My time here is getting shorter…I can feel it. I’m working on girding my heart in preparation.

It’s like the old man who can tell it’s going to rain by the pain in his knee. The only difference is…this pain is in my heart.

❤️

“"Is it a time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?”
Haggai 1:4 ESV

A Vivid Imagination

Tue, 13 Aug 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“The moment I saw this, I knew it was the answer to my dream!”

I was probably about ten years old when I got my first (and only) childhood bike for Christmas. I remember lusting after the sleek English racers I saw some of the bigger kids riding. Oooooo, the idea of all those gears and the trendy dropped handlebars and the hand brakes…I could just picture myself tooling around the world, peddling that bike, looking ever so sporty and sophisticated. I had a vivid imagination!

Christmas morning came. I jumped up out of bed in my worn and tattered flannel jammies, and ran to the living room. There, leaning on its kickstand in the middle of the living room, was a brand new shiny blue bicycle! It wasn’t an English racer. It didn’t have any bells and whistles. It was a heavy, single speed monstrosity from Sears with the label “J. C. Higgins”. It was a sturdy, reliable bike and it didn’t take me long to figure out Mom couldn’t afford that trendy bicycle. I was darned lucky to have this one and not some hand-me-down from one of my cousins.

I used to ride that bike all over the neighborhood. The following summer was the first time Mom let us stay home unsupervised. I played outside from first thing in the morning till I needed to be in to start supper before my folks got home from work. I remember having this intense fantasy of riding my bicycle to Canada. I envisioned panniers on the back…before I even knew what panniers were. I pictured what I would pack in there. I had read The Boxcar Children a dozen times so I knew just what I would need to survive on my own.

In my ten-year-old brain, I had it all figured out. I would need money to survive so I would need to either get a job or sell something. The Christmas Wishbook from Sears arrived that fall and I ran to my room with it to figure out how I was going to raise funds for this epic adventure. And there it was! A snow-cone maker!!! My friends and I LOVED snow-cones! I figured if I had one of these babies, I could set up a stand out in front of the house and blow all those Lemonade Stands out of the water. I mean…who could resist a great snow-cone on a hot summer day, right???

I look back at my youthful exuberance and my little girl naïveté and smile. I was sure I would sell a gazillion snow-cones from this cute little plastic gizmo. Just as sure as I would ride my bike to Canada. Well, I never rode my bike to Canada. I didn’t get the snow-cone maker. But I’ve been on lots of adventures. And, I’ve done things I never thought I could do. And now…I’m going to get to have another GRAND adventure and they’re handing me the camper to do it in!

Believe me…I know how blessed I am to get this opportunity. Between now and the middle of September when I pick it up, I need to plan out an epic road trip. I’m thinking it would be really awesome to combine this with several Meet & Greets and get a chance to meet you wonderful “Ranchers” along the way! I’m just in the formulating stage but I’m thinking this could turn out to be….

Ginny McKinney’s R-Pod-196 Adventure!

Stay tuned to Marshmallow Ranch for details as plans fall into place!!!

❤️

“For nothing will be impossible with God."”
Luke 1:37 ESV

There’s an Adventure Coming...

Mon, 12 Aug 2019 01:30:05 -0600

“Where will my next adventure take me???”

I’ve been hinting at an adventure coming up for me this fall and now I can tell you a little more about it. The manufacturer of the R-Pod has just come out with a totally new design…the Model 196. This is the first redesign Forest River has done in the ten years since the R-Pod was first released. And, Forest River has very generously donated the very first Model 196 R-Pod off the line to the Girl Campers for our annual trailer raffle!!! Isn’t that exciting???

My good friend, Janine Pettit, will receive the camper in the next couple of weeks. She will be putting a Girl Camper spin on it with some beautiful interior decor. Then, the camper goes to the Hershey RV Show. Janine and I will be at the show on September 14th for a meet and greet and to show off our Girl Camper version of the new R-Pod. After that, we head to Setzer’s RV in Huntington, WV for the big reveal!

At that point, I take over and get to pull this camper wherever I want till the end of January…which of course means I’ll just HAVE to go where it’s warm over the winter! (And, yes…Mr. FixIt gets to come along…for at least part of the trip!) Stay tuned for lots of fun and excitement in the coming months! In the meantime, here is a sneak peek at the “before” in a video Janine made at the Forest River factory. This is a gorgeous camper and I can hardly wait to get her out there on the open road!!!

https://www.facebook.com/janine.pettit.5/videos/10157250788233444?s=1219785470&sfns=mo

❤️

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.”
Psalm 91:11-12 NIV

A Farm Girl at Heart...sans Shoes

Sun, 11 Aug 2019 01:30:44 -0600

‘Sitting on the tailgate of my truck…drinking coffee and soaking up summer!”

I hate wearing shoes. I know it’s so stereotypically West Virginian, but I do not wear shoes unless I absolutely have to. Mr. FixIt emptied the truck yesterday morning so I went out with my mug of coffee and sat on the tailgate, contemplating my bare feet and the beautiful sounds of an August day in the country.

It wasn’t long after I finished my morning brew when I heard Mr. FixIt start up the push mower and I knew it was time to get to work. I ran to town to fill up the gas cans. Once I got back home, I hooked up my headphones and hopped on the riding mower. It could have waited till Monday, growth-wise. But the next two days are supposed to be 95 degrees and rainy. So, you know what they say...you gotta make hay when the sun shines!

I love watching the seasons changing here in my home state. Some of the trees already have some yellowing leaves on them. And you can tell a difference in the texture of the grass at this time of year. It’s tougher and harder to weed eat. I left home the 27th of June. There was a whole lot of growth between then and now and there are a lot of branches hanging over the edge of the fields. I’m going to have to get out there with the loppers again.

As soon as I got home the other night, I could just feel the stress leave my shoulders and neck. I can sit outside and listen to the night sounds instead of the constant hum of traffic in the background. As I sat basking in the velvet night air, I thought over all the places we saw over the last several weeks. It was such a wonderful vacation. And, as always, it’s both good to be home and sad that it’s over.

❤️

“The priest answered them, “Go in peace. Your journey has the Lord’s approval.””
Judges 18:6 NIV

Mother Earth..How Does Your Garden Grow?

Sat, 10 Aug 2019 01:30:23 -0600

“Product of our burn pile, aka pumpkin patch.”

Back when I was a wanna-be hippy mama in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, I was an urban farmer. Before urban farming was a thing. I had dug and turned over a garden patch at every house we rented while Hubby #2 was in medical school and residency. We were poor as church mice and we needed to put as much free food as we could on the table to make our meager budget stretch as far as it could.

I was dismayed at the fact Colorado has such a short growing season. With Denver being literally a mile high, compared to the relative low elevation of West Virginia, I longed for a farm of my own in my home state. I remembered my dad’s gardens. We rented the lot behind us and put in a huge vegetable garden every summer. My grandma not only had a “truck garden” across the creek…their farm also produced strawberries for the local farmer’s market. I was spoiled by the earth of my youth.

West Virginia soil runs from really sandy to heavy red clay mud. If you’re lucky, you find great gardening soil that’s rich and loamy and needs nothing more than a good tilling to prepare the perfect garden. You can get all scientific and test the soil and add lime or ash to adjust the pH but mostly anyone with any gardening skill at all can turn out some pretty impressive vegetables in a fairly small space.

When we were married last October, Mr. FixIt burned a lot of brush on our burn pile out in the field. We used pumpkins as a cheap wedding decor, then used them in turn to decorate for Halloween. Once they were frostbit, Mr. FixIt tossed them in the burn pile along with whatever else was in there. He figured once spring came, he’d clean out the flower beds and trim bushes then burn it all at once.

Winter came and went and when the first signs of spring hit the Ponderosa and the weekly mowing commenced, lo and behold…pumpkin vines popped up all around the burn pile! I was really excited to do a walkabout when we got home this week and see how the pumpkins fared while we were gone. There must be a dozen pumpkins growing out there. White ones. Dark orange. Light orange. Short and flat. Big and round. All kinds of pumpkins. And we didn’t have to DO anything…just throw pumpkins out there and they grew!

This is the stuff of my dreams….getting something from literally nothing. If we would have been here while they were growing, I would have nipped off all but one or two on each vine so the plant’s energy could have forced bigger pumpkins, but as it is, they are certainly a respectable size for decorating. And, maybe they’ll make some pies.

Our tomato vines did not stay tied up on the supports Mr. FixIt set out. They are all laying down on the grown and consequently, many of the tomatoes have touched the ground which makes them rot. But there are enough to eat and that’s all we care about. We missed all but the earliest summer squash. There are vegetable stands all around this area so I had Mr. FixIt stop and get some fresh sweet corn and a cantaloupe on his way home yesterday. We’ll eat like royalty tonight!

❤️

“So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.”
1 Corinthians 3:7-9 NIV

The DMV & Me

Fri, 09 Aug 2019 01:30:34 -0600

“Take my advice…bring chocolate next time you go to the DMV!”

How many vacations have you ridden along with me…vicariously? If you’ve been around very long, you’ll know I don’t do very well with “re-entry”. I’ve never just come home and smoothly transition into laundry and cooking and doing the everyday mundane things. And, it seems the older I get, the more difficult it is to come down off the high of a really good trip. And this one was a REALLY good one.

There were a few little bobbles along the way. The whole camper fiasco was a pain in the caboose but I turned it into a teaching moment. Then I lost my driver’s license. I know I had it at the Quick Care when I had the stress hives. But they swear it wasn’t left there. I called the pharmacy to see if maybe I left it there but they said it wasn’t there either. The DMV told me to print off a copy of my driving record to at least prove to a police officer that I have a valid license and I’m trying to fix it. Our whole camping vacation itinerary had to be changed, but that all turned out to be fine.

The first thing that had to be done yesterday was go to the DMV. Well…the FIRST thing I did was go pick up the mail to see if anyone had found it and mailed me my license. Nope. Then I went to the county building and got a copy of my birth certificate and marriage license in case I needed it at the DMV. I had my Social Security card and a vehicle registration with me. I have the Federal ID on my Driver’s License. I had to show a gazillion kinds of ID to get that. I thought SURELY I wouldn’t need a gazillion MORE kinds of ID to let them know I’m the same person with all the OTHER kinds of ID. HA! I was SO wrong!

I stood in the little pre-line line to let the clerk know what I needed. She looked at what I had. Nope. Not good enough. I needed a bill with my name and address on it. Ok, I had my health insurance bill. I handed that to her. Nope. They can’t accept health insurance. I had my taxes. Nope. Can’t accept federal taxes. OK, I said…what do you need? She underlined all the acceptable forms of identification. I went out to the truck and brought back a second registration for a different vehicle. Nope. Can’t come from the same source. Grrrrr.

So, I drove all the way across town and went to my car insurance agent’s office. I changed my address on my insurance and had them print out an insurance card for me. I drove back across town and stood in the pre-line again. Ok…we’re making progress. I got a number! I sat. And sat. And sat. Finally, my number was called and I ran up to the window with a huge smile.

“Identification, please.”

“Here you go! A registration and my car insurance…both with my name and address!” I smiled. They aren’t going to beat me this time!

The clerk looked over my papers and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t accept this. The address on the insurance card doesn’t match the one on the car registration.”

“What?!?!?!”

She quietly starts tapping on the keyboard and read, taps and reads, taps and reads.

“What is your husband’s name?”

I told her.

“And what is his birthdate?”

I told her.

“And you got your marriage license in this county?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Hmmmmm…I can’t find him.”

Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.

They’ve added a large copy of the law, highlighted, that says what the punishment is for disruptive behavior in the DMV. It’s pasted everywhere.

I looked over at the different styles of license plates you can order. And there…on number six…was a bluebird. I could almost hear Mr. Virgo say “Go easy, baby doll.” I thought of Mr. FixIt and how nothing seems to ruffle his feathers. And my shoulders relaxed.

“This must be a difficult job sometimes,” I said to the clerk.

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” She smiled as she continued to type and read.

Finally, I picked up the insurance card. The bottom half was kind of faded where the cartridge was running out of toner. Sure enough, under “Name and address of owner”, there was a typo in the name of the street. But, above that, under “Name and address of insured”, the address was correct. And clearly darker!

“Oh, look! It DOES have the name spelled right on this line! See? The other one is just so light from the printer, it’s hard to read. See the dark one here???”

It worked! My diversionary tactic to take the focus off the wrong one and place it on the right one clearly saved the day!

“Oh, my gosh! It must be my glasses! That IS right!” She took my money and quickly handed my number back to me. “You only have one person in front of you so it should take long now!” She smiled sweetly at me.

Right.

I was there another hour before they took my picture for my new license. And now I have to look at that tired, sweaty, grumpy picture for the next however many years. Or until I lose THIS license. Whichever comes first.

The bottom line is this…these people are just doing their jobs. They don’t make up the rules. They aren’t there to make your life miserable. They just want to earn a buck and go home and put their feet up. So, next time you have to go to the dreaded DMV, bring a smile. Some chocolate for the nice person behind the counter couldn’t hurt either. Maybe I would have gotten out of there quicker if I’d brought a little Hershey’s with me!

❤️

“Now swear to me here before God that you will not deal falsely with me or my children or my descendants. Show to me and the country where you now reside as a foreigner the same kindness I have shown to you.””
Genesis 21:23 NIV

Full Up to Here!

Mon, 05 Aug 2019 01:30:46 -0600

“Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic up to Eisenhower Tunnel”

When I first moved to Colorado, Denver was a cow town compared to what it is today. In 1975, the Denver Metro Area consisted of approximately 650,000 people from what I can deduce for a graph I found. The population now is over 3,000,000! And it’s not just the Denver Metro Area. The states population has grown steadily….every single year. It’s crazy!

When I moved to Glenwood Springs in 1986, there were two stop lights in the entire town. If it took us five minutes to get across town we thought we were in some terrible traffic jam. Now, it doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, traffic everywhere is bumper to bumper.

We left Montrose yesterday morning at 10:30. It took us eight full hours to drive 263 miles to Denver! Clear roads. A little rain around Eagle. The majority of the time spent driving was between Silverthorne and Idaho Springs. The Eisenhower Tunnel is a huge bottleneck and as soon as the toll lane starts around Idaho Springs, things loosened up and we made good time.

I thought it was exacerbated by the fact I have lived in the country for the last five years, but everyone here comments on it. And I have to tell you, I have never in my life walked into a Walmart or a mall…anywhere…and had the thought of a mass shooting go through my mind. But last night, we stopped at Walmart on our way to Ben & Sue’s house, and that’s the first thing that came to my mind.

“What is that crowd doing hanging around the front entrance?”

“Is there going to be trouble here?”

“Where is the nearest exit?”

I hate that. I hate that chill that went up my spine. I hate that I looked in the faces of those around me and wondered what they were capable of. Then I found myself in the cereal aisle and I heard Mr. FixIt’s friendly banter. He can (and does) speak to anyone.

“You only came in for two items? Well…you’ve sure gone over on this trip, huh?”

I turned to find a Hispanic woman smiling shyly at him.

“Yes…it happens all the time!”

I looked in her face and saw kindness and a slight self-deprecation at her inability to stick to a shopping list. And, what I saw was no different than me.

I smiled warmly at her and said, “Oh, I do that, too! What’s worse is when I come home and don’t have half of what I came in for in the first place!”

This was a welcome moment in an otherwise horrifying set of current events. I am devastated. I am outraged. And, I will do what I can and not just send thoughts and prayers, although those are flowing fervently. My heart is broken for the victims of yet more violence.

We pack up the truck this morning and say goodbye to to our Colorado peeps and hit the road for West Virginia. Please keep us in your prayers for travel mercies but more importantly, pray for those innocents who were just going about their day.

❤️

“Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.””
Isaiah 35:3-4 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

Finding Hope

Mon, 22 Jul 2019 01:30:13 -0600

“God’s promise.”

There have been so many times in my life when I felt I had no hope. I didn’t know about spiritual warfare. I didn’t know the enemy was the one whispering the lies about me into my heart and mind. My life had long stretches of darkness and it wasn’t until I became a Christian that I started to see light at the end of the tunnel.

We went to church yesterday and took Little with us. We sat with our friend Rick and his wife Connie. The pastor is preaching a series on the elements and yesterday was about the wind. And hope. He focused on Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones. As far as Ezekiel could see, the valley floor was covered with dry, sun-bleached bones. This represented the dried up, faithless Israelites. The Lord asked Ezekiel to speak to the dry bones. To tell them to listen to the Word of the Lord. When he did this, the bones started to rattle and come together. Tendons and muscle and skin formed and soon, they looked like you and me. But they had no life. No inner spark of hope. When Ezekiel told God he had only been halfway successful, God breathed his breath upon the bodies and they came alive and rose as a mighty army.

I know what those bodies felt like. I was dry and sun-bleached in my bones for such a long time. And, when I surrendered, God blew His breath…His Spirit…into me and I rose up like a mighty warrior. Whenever I begin to feel less hopeful, I look for the wind. Mr. FixIt remarked the other day…it never seems terribly hot here in Colorado. Even when the temperature nears triple digits. The reason is two-fold. The humidity is low. And there is always a breeze. You can feel it across the hairs on your arms. And when a wisp of your hair blows across your face. You can see it in the trees and grasses of the field. You can watch it even high above the earth as the clouds in the sky scud along.

When I look for the wind, I can see the breath of God as he works over us…his children. Even when I don’t see God’s promises in my current circumstances, I know He is there…working in the background. Even in my darkest moments…during the years of depression and the overdose, during a painful divorce, during the grief I suffered after losing Mr. Virgo…He was feverishly working to turn these terrible situations into something He could use for His Glory.

Finding hope in today’s world can be so terribly difficult. It is easy to lose hope and see no way out. If you can just remember to feel the wind on your skin and focus on some good thing in your life, you can ignite hope within your soul. Even the smallest ember can be fanned into a flame when you seek and use the Breath of God.

❤️

“The hand of the Lord was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’ ” So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’ ” So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army. Then he said to me: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’ Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it, declares the Lord.’ ””
Ezekiel 37:1-14 NIV

One Small Step

Sun, 21 Jul 2019 01:30:08 -0600

“One small step…”

It was a sultry summer night…Sunday, July 20, 1969. We had been watching the news over the previous week or so about the astronauts that were going to walk on the moon. I was all of sixteen…that magical age where you’re caught somewhere between Barbies and boys. We didn’t have screens on the windows but it was too hot to leave them closed. We absentmindedly swatted away the mosquitoes as we ate ice cream and stared at the flickering grey screen.

Hippies were preparing for Woodstock. Giggling teenagers were having slumber parties. We were rolling our hair on juice cans and wearing bellbottomed jeans. We popped our gum and knew all about Archie and Veronica’s exploits. Dad would complain about the “yippies” next door playing their drums too loud and the cars that went too fast up our dirt street. A couple of times a week, a Jeep would drive up the road spraying DDT into the neighborhood to keep the mosquito population down to a reasonable level. And once a month or so, a different truck would come and spray oil or tar down on the dusty dirt. The first day out after they sprayed, our bare feet would be covered with a half inch think glob of sandy tar turning our soles into…well, soles.

It was the summer of love. My foster sister was going to school all summer in Athens to get a certificate for preschool education. She wrote me long letters and on the back of each envelope she drew a picture of a bunny and wrote “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69” in an arc above its head. The war in Vietnam was cranking up, but we were young and in love with ourselves and life in general. War was something that happened so far away, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with us. But, in all actuality, we were living in difficult, tumultuous times in this country. We were just too young to really understand it all.

And now, here we were in a darkened room, sweat trickling down our backs, waiting for Neil Armstrong to take “one small step for [a] man…one giant leap for mankind.” I remember being absolutely mesmerized by this amazing feat. This was one of those landmark moments in time. A moment when there was a before and after and nothing would be the same again. It was a unifying event and we all held our collective breath in the moment.

Here it is…fifty years later. Where did that time go? It seems I blinked and now I have great grandchildren. I’m feeling particularly nostalgic because I am here with my Colorado family. Yesterday we celebrated the 90th birthday of the matriarch of my son-in-law’s family. Grandma’s health has been failing this week but by golly, she rallied yesterday and seventeen of us gathered to shower her with our love and ate strawberry shortcake…her all time favorite. Afterwards, we left Grandma to get some rest and went out to dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory.

It was one of those days we will remember always…when Grandma’s sun was shining and the moon echoed with the memories of another hot summers’ night, so long ago.

❤️

“it will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky.”” Psalm 89:37 NIV

Hand it Over

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7”

I have struggled with anxiety all of my life. It’s so, so frustrating because I know what it is. I know the feelings are real, but they stem from thoughts. I have a whole toolbox of techniques that I’ve used over the years…some helpful, some decidedly harmful, all of them ineffective to a large degree. It wasn’t until I started studying the Bible looking for answers that I have begun to find some semblance of relief.

I was reading a devotional about anxiety and fear this week and came across something I had never read before but it really struck home. It talked about a secondary effect of anxiety becoming “a fear of fear itself”. That sums it up so distinctly. I really HATE feeling afraid…to the point of fearing the fear. Suddenly, it just all seemed so ridiculous.

The Bible talks a lot about fear and anxiety. So much so that it is apparent these feelings are prevalent in all humans to some degree. For years…decades…I felt weird about my anxiety. Like there was something wrong with me. That I was somehow flawed and no one else had these feelings. Knowing I’m not alone…even Joshua and Mary and countless others were told by God to not be afraid. That is so comforting to me.

I am excited about the upcoming wedding in two weeks. I’m thrilled for my daughter and her happiness. And, it’s hard to tease out the difference between the butterflies of excitement and the quaking of anxiety. It affects me physically the same and my mind can easily take off on a wild tangent which isn’t anywhere I really want to go.

This most recent Bible study I read says whenever the first feelings of anxiety or fear begin to come into your mind, think of a praise instead. Turn on praise music. Sing a praise song. Thank Jesus for waking you up this morning. What I’ve been doing is telling God about all the beautiful things we’re going to do the day of the wedding. I’ve been telling Him about the pretty dresses the girls are wearing. And all the people we’re going to see that we love and don’t get to see often enough. I’ve invited Him to come along with me and to be there right alongside each of us.

There’s so much in life that can change plans at the last minute. There are illnesses in families or some other unforeseen circumstances that you can’t predict. It doesn’t help to be nervous or worried, but it’s hard not to be. As Jesus said, God takes care of the birds and the fields…surely He’ll take good care of us…even in our worst moments.

I hand things over…repeatedly. And, it does get easier and easier to remember to give it to God first before I let my mind jump on the worry train and go off the rails. There will always be something you can worry about. That’s how the enemy steals your joy. And, there are situations in life that you can’t help but let affect you. Things like watching a loved one decline. Losing someone or something special. An unexpected diagnosis or financial difficulty. God wants to walk those paths with you. Reach out your hand and take His. He’s so much bigger than anything that troubles you.

❤️

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:6-7 NIV

Coffee & Plowing the South Forty

Thu, 18 Jul 2019 01:30:46 -0600

“Can you tell by looking whether it’s got caffeine in it? Yeah…me neither!!!!”

I love coffee. Like…LOVE coffee! I like to think I’m a coffee connoisseur, but I can’t name the region where a coffee was sourced just by tasting it or smelling it. I just know a good cup of coffee when I taste one. Ben & Sue are half-caff kids. No strong coffee for them. I learned to really appreciate coffee when Mr. Virgo was alive. If the spoon didn’t stand up in the cup, it wasn’t strong enough as far as he was concerned. And don’t DARE serve him a cup of coffee that you can read a newspaper through!

When Mr. Virgo and I were first together, I griped incessantly about his coffee…it was too strong, it was bitter, it was wretched! I bought a coffeemaker that actually had two sides to it. He would make his coffee in one side…I’d make mine in the other. We both turned our noses up when we saw the other’s brew. Then, that coffeemaker broke and he finally convinced me to buy a Bunn. They are fabulous! Your coffee is ready in literally 1-2 minutes. It was great.

After making a big show of pouring half a cup of coffee and filling the mug with milk before I popped it in the microwave, accompanied by a heavy sigh, I started actually appreciating the flavor of his coffee. It wasn’t until after Mr. Virgo died, that I started drinking my coffee the same strength as his. A “hanging on to memories” kinda thing, I think.

Ben & Sue have offered a place on the counter to put my own coffeemaker where I can brew my version of coffee, but I just haven’t taken the time to go out to the storage bins and search for it. Until I do, I am happy to have a cup or two of what is available. But at least a couple of times a week, I have to take advantage of the many coffee shops in the Metro Denver Area and get a “real” cuppa Joe.

Yesterday, Mr. FixIt and I had a list of things we wanted to accomplish. We went out to breakfast with Ben & Sue. We started out at Denny’s, but after 15 minutes and no one did so much as bring us silverware, we got up and left. We went to Perkin’s Pancake House. After breakfast, we headed out to run our errands. By the time we were finished, it was 3:00 and we decided to go to Caribou Coffee and get something cold and refreshing.

I am adamant about my caffeine intake. I cannot have regular coffee after about noon or else I’ll be up all night…ready to plow the south forty. I got about halfway through my iced coffee when I realized I forgot to order decaf! O. M. Gosh!!! As I’m writing this, it’s 8:30 Wednesday evening and I could start painting a barn if I had one! Zooooom! Zooooom!

It’s been hot here, but nothing like the heat y’all are getting back east! Ninety-eight here is certainly not the same as ninety-eight back home. I hope you all are staying safe and well hydrated so you stay healthy!

❤️

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 NIV

Mother Cabrini Shrine

Tue, 16 Jul 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“The view from Mother Cabrini Shrine is stunning!”

The other night when I picked Mr. FixIt up from the airport, I was accelerating to get on the interstate when the transmission made an eerie slipping sound. I turned to him and said, “Did you hear that?” He did…it wasn’t just me! I had heard this same noise several times and I was really worried something was wrong with the transmission. But, Mr. FixIt has been in that truck hundreds of times and never heard it.

Before I even got up yesterday, he and Ben had looked up the number for a reputable transmission shop nearby and as soon as I had a cup of coffee, I called them up. They told me to bring the truck right in and they would check it for me. The transmission fluid was low and they added a whole quart to it. Then the manager of the shop drove the truck around and came back. He said it made every sound it was supposed to and no slips. No surprise there. However, when I got out and drove it, I was pleasantly surprised to feel and hear how smoothly it was shifting, so I think we may have fixed the problem. When we prepared to leave, I asked how much I owed them and they said, “Not a thing. You have a great trip!”

If you need a good transmission place in Arvada, Colorado…go to Jerrod’s!

Since we suddenly had a free day in front of us, we ran to Starbucks for a cup of coffee then headed to the mountains. I was thinking of taking Mr. FixIt to Red Rocks Amphitheater, but I could see dark clouds starting to form in the west. I decided instead to turn into Mother Cabrini Shrine to explore instead.

It has been a full forty years at the least since I’ve been up there. I once went up there and just sat in the field near the shrine to gaze out over downtown Denver. I haven’t explored when improvements were built there, but I don’t remember all those steps. My memory had a path going up and you could walk out into the field surrounding the statue of Jesus at the top of the hill. But, like I said…it has been four decades since I was there so I’m not sure my memory is accurate.

I was surprised the chapel didn’t have candles to light in memory of someone. But there was a grotto below and a much smaller chapel with candles. I lit four candles for special people and said prayers for all of you. Then we went down to the springs. When Mother Cabrini purchased this land for a retreat for orphans, she told others she got it so cheap because there was no water. When she explored the land, she struck a rock with a staff, it broke open, and fresh spring water flowed out from it. We each drank a glass of this miracle water and thanked God for the blessing of the water in such an arid place.

Mother Cabrini is the first American to be canonized as a Saint. There is a small museum on the property with personal articles that belonged to her. There were also religious relics on display. You could even take a free third degree relic which was a laminated card with a tiny piece of fabric which had come into contact with Mother Cabrini’s clothing somewhere along the line. It was all quite fascinating.

We left just as it started to sprinkle and headed to Olive Garden for an early supper. Then back to Ben and Sue’s. It was a fun day and a good workout with all the steps up to the Sacred Heart statue. This photo was taken about halfway up and if you zoom in, you can just make out the tall buildings of Downtown Denver in the distance. Day one of exploring is under our belts!

❤️

“"Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. "Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”
Matthew 6:1-4 ESV

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

Saying Goodbye to TOW-Wanda!

Fri, 12 Jul 2019 01:30:35 -0600

“TOW-Wanda…being towed away to her new life with a boy.”

Night before last, I put the camper on Facebook Marketplace at 10:00. It sold in thirty minutes! And, there were thirty people right behind the guy I sold it to, ready to step up and pay cash. I was shocked. I was forthright in explaining the camper needed work or would be perfect for a backyard she shed, writer’s nook, guest quarters, or kids playhouse. Still, the price and “camper” were enough to bring everyone out of the woodwork seeking a deal.

The first person who said he wanted it was a guy who just got married on the 8th. He was so excited to get the camper, he was knowledgeable and fully understood what it was going to take to get her fixed. He wanted to fix up TOW-Wanda so he could take his son camping. He took a picture and sent it to his dad. Then he FaceTimed with his son and I could hear their excitement.

This guy knew campers. He knew what it would take to really fix her right. I am so glad about that because I was worried someone who didn’t really know about them might get it and not heed my warnings and try to tow it to the mountains. We had a long talk. We negotiated a price that was fair and acceptable to us both. I told him, I could see God’s hand all over this. For me…to learn a valuable lesson about inspecting campers well before you buy them. And for him…to affordably get into a camper that he has the skills to fix so that he can be a good dad to his son.

Yes…I lost money on the deal. But, no one got hurt…just my pride. And there’s a little boy out there who is going to be one happy camper when he gets to go out in the mountains with his dad. There is no price tag on the making of a man.

❤️

“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.”
Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

Blog Inspiration

Thu, 11 Jul 2019 01:30:12 -0600

“Enjoying a midsummer’s eve in Colorado.”

I was talking about my blog the other day with the owner of a lovely antique store in Minturn, Colorado. Just a stone’s throw from the glitz and glamour of Vail, Minturn still holds that little mining town feel it’s had for decades. It is kind of land bound…there can’t be a ton of new expansion and building outrageous mansions for the rich and famous. The town center is located just two miles off I-70, but it seems like a step back in time.

I told the owner of the shop that my life experiences are “blog fodder”. Just about everything I do, I look for the gold in the moment. I ask myself, “How can I weave this into an interesting story without sounding like Aunt Bertha describing her breakfast for the umpteenth time?” I always look for ways my posts can be positive, uplifting, encouraging, and even empowering. I want you to come away with something good for your day…even if it’s just a smile or a giggle.

Yesterday was bittersweet as I began emptying the camper and packing the items away in plastic bins. I need to be able to fit everything in my truck, including what Mr. FixIt brings with him from West Virginia. I’ll list it tomorrow so people can shop over the weekend and hopefully she will find a new home and someone will love her as much as I have. We girl campers have a strong attachment to our little homes on wheels.

I bought some of those big ziplock bags that you vacuum the air out of and the compress the contents for easy storage. I’d never used them before but they were amazing. Ben and Sue have a huge dining room table to accommodate our large family at dinners. I had the top of that table piled two feet deep with pillows, blankets, towels, and my fur throw. By the time I got the items packed and the air vacuumed out, I couldn’t believe how compact it was. There is room in the back under the tonneau cover for one more large bin with some extra space around them. These bags will easily slip between and on top of the plastic bins, keeping the contents from getting wet.

When I was finished with my chores for the day, I went out on the back porch to write. Sue has the most beautiful flowers this summer. It has been rainy and cool up to this week so they are thriving. It’s unusual to keep pots this pretty by the middle of July here in the semi-arid climate of Colorado. The air cooled to a reasonable 81 degrees by 8:30 so I sat there for a long time…admiring the beauty of a midsummer’s eve.

I hope you are enjoying your summer. I was telling Sue at supper list night…I think I’ve only been home a week or so since the last week of May. It’s ok…I’m having a wonderful time and it will only be made better by Mr. FixIt’s arrival on Saturday. Two more sleeps!!!

❤️

“In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.”
Ephesians 5:28 NIV

Here Comes the Rain Again!

Sat, 06 Jul 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“Looking east as the sun set over Arvada.

I think I brought the rain with me from West Virginia. We got about an inch of rain in two days in the northwest suburbs of Denver. It dropped from the mid 80’s to 75…then in thirty minutes it dropped down to 60 degrees. Lots of small, pea sized hail but no damage that I can see.

Along with Colorado’s severe thunderstorms, California had a 7.1 earthquake aftershock last night, Europe is having an unprecedented heat wave, and West Virginia just sits and soaks in sweat. It’s crazy weather. I hope things settle down soon. It’s downright chilly here right now.

I’ve been “camping” at Ben & Sue’s house. We pulled the camper back under a locust tree for some little bit of protection from the elements. When you are in the camper, even pea and marble-sized hail sounds like a gunshot. Little is going to come join me and “camp” tonight. I had to tell her the camper is broken so we can’t go to the mountains like we wanted to. She is so easy going. She said she didn’t care where we camped, as long as we were together!

I’m sad I’ll be saying goodbye to this camper sometime this month. It has such a beautiful layout and is pristine inside. I know the right person will come along and be so happy to get her to place on a piece of property or in the back yard. I’ll just keep praying about it. Mr. FixIt put the title in the mail to me today so I should receive it Monday or Tuesday.

My sweet man arrives in Colorado a week from today! I can hardly wait to see him!!! He’ll be at the baby shower today for our little great grandson due this month. We got him a crib. I’m so sorry I’ll be missing that but I’m busy making memories here!

❤️

“He loads the clouds with moisture; he scatters his lightning through them. At his direction they swirl around over the face of the whole earth to do whatever he commands them. He brings the clouds to punish people, or to water his earth and show his love.”
Job 37:11-13 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

Trailer Trouble...With a Capital T

Wed, 03 Jul 2019 01:30:49 -0600

“Damage to the camper indicating it is no longer towable.”

Whenever I travel with one of my campers, I always circle around and do a visual safety check. I check before I head out. I check when I park for the night. And I check when I get to my destination. Saturday night I stayed at a hotel in Russell, KS. I did my walkabout when I locked her up to go inside and there was nothing wrong. Same thing the next morning before I headed out on the road for the final leg into Denver.

When I arrived at Ben & Sue’s house and I was unhooking, I noticed the front curbside corner of the camper had separated a little. It looked like a couple of screws had popped and all I would need to do is screw them back in. I was hot and tired and not planning to tow anytime soon so I decided to wait till I was better rested. The first chance I had was yesterday morning.

I went out and looked at the corner again. I tried to push back on the panel but it would not move. This indicated to me there was weight behind it and my original idea was not going to work. I got down on my knees and looked back at the base of the trailer where it meets the frame and this is what I was faced with. The other side looks almost as bad.

That silver metal cover is the rock guard. It’s called diamond plate. It is heavy gauge and does NOT tear easily. I knew as soon as I saw it what had happened. When I first bought the camper, I notice there was about a two to three inch water stain on the mattress below one corner of that front window.

These windows notoriously leak. That’s why most camper companies don’t build a camper with them anymore. I asked the previous owner when I was inspecting the camper if it leaked and she said she had never noticed it before. Maybe it happened over the winter and was new. There was another red flag…the front surface had become delaminated. There is a fiberglass material fused over the wood walls in this camper. If there is a leak, over time…the surface will come away from the wood and have a rippled appearance.

It was a red flag that I didn’t understand was HUGE. I was thinking “little r”. Nope….big mama-honkin’ R! The more I camped in this new-to-me camper, the bigger that little leak got. I figured as soon as I had time, I would pop that front window out and re-caulk it. Done. Easy peasy. But it kept raining and I kept busy and then…boom!

What happened was, driving across the washboard that was once I-70 caused the board across the bottom front of the camper (that had obviously softened or rotted) to buckle from the weight of the camper body being repeatedly slammed down on it. This brought the body down over half an inch, dropping it onto the frame that comes out to create the tongue and hitch.

Layman’s terms? The camper is not towable in this condition. There are several scenarios that can happen here.

I could fix it myself. But this is a long, big, BIG job that could entail tearing the camper down to the frame and reconstructing it. I don’t have a place to work undercover. I’m not here long enough to do it...even if I were so inclined. Which I am not.
I could have someone fix it for me. This could cost two to three thousand dollars and the camper itself isn’t worth much more than that. (Come to find out, I paid too much for it, but we live and learn, right?) I’m not willing to put the money into it.
I can sell the camper “as is” with the firm stipulation that it is not roadworthy. This is a viable option. A lot of people are putting little campers in their back yards to use as she-sheds, guest houses, Air B&B accommodations, or playhouses for the kids and grandkids.
I can just leave it here and worry about it next summer, but that isn’t very reasonable. It would take up room at Ben & Sue’s and it would be out in a potentially bad Colorado winter. It’s just putting off the inevitable.

So, plans change. We won’t be camping on this trip except in the driveway of Ben & Sue’s house until I can manage to sell the camper. Mr. FixIt couldn’t find the title at home so he needs to get a new one. In order to do that, he needs the registration. That was in my truck so I sent it to him priority mail and he’ll get it Friday. Then he will send me the new title. And, he will be here a week from Saturday.

I don’t want to say I feel stupid. But I didn’t do what anyone who buys a used camper should do. I didn’t have it inspected by an RV professional. The inside showed no damage…it was pristine. All but that tiny leak. The only thing that made me feel better was this: The only way I could have known that board inside was rotten was to tear the front off the camper and you can’t do that. I had no way of knowing. It was just one of those unfortunate issues that sometimes comes with used campers.

I have backup campers at home. Everything will work out. I am VERY grateful nothing terrible happened on the road like the frame breaking in the middle of Kansas. This is workable…it’s not the end of the world. I will inevitably lose money on this deal, but that’s a lesson learned and an excellent teaching moment when I mentor women campers.

I tell my husband this over and over and over. “You get what you pay for.” I had the money to get a new(er) camper, but I went for the deal. Sometimes that “good deal” just doesn’t work out. And then again….sometimes rainbows come after the worst of storms! I wonder how God is going to use this for good? There is a reason this has happened here and now. I just don’t know what it is yet!

❤️

“It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain.” Isaiah 4:6 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

America’s Bread Basket is Baking!

Sun, 30 Jun 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Clockwise from top left: My rig in the summer sun in Kansas, the long straight stretch that is Kansas…look how green!, my digital laser thermometer that I use to check my hub temperatures at every stop, me looking decidedly fresher in the AM than I was by evening!”

You know you are getting into farm and ranch land when you start seeing billboards advertising bovine genetics and DEKALB seed corn. I left the Lazy Day Campground in Danville, Missouri yesterday morning about 8:00. It was a very long, very HOT day. A section of I-70 was closed at Kansas City so I took the recommended detour. I recognized it as the route I usually take anyway to avoid downtown. There is one interchange on the interstate near the city where you have to get from the right hand side onramp to a left hand side exit in less than 1/4 mile. Pulling a camper makes that a real challenge, let me tell you!!! At least it wasn’t with big TOW-Wanda on a Friday night at rush hour. We have to look for the little things!

When I was emptying the tanks on the camper before I left yesterday, it wasn’t 8:00 yet and the sun would take the hide right off of you. The temperature quickly soared to the high 90’s and by the time I was halfway through Kansas, it was 100. The low was only expected to go down to 80 so I stopped and got a hotel room. When I first got in the room, I cranked up the air conditioner and stretched out on the bed. I texted Mr. FixIt and said, “I am NEVER doing this again!!!” He texted back that I don’t have to. I’m holding him to it!

Ok, it was the third day. It was hard. It was hot. I was tired and probably a little hungry and dehydrated. And knowing I have over 350 more miles to go had me feeling really sorry for myself there for a few minutes. But, once I rested for a while and got something to eat and drink, I felt a ton better. When I stop tonight, it’s going to be at my son-in-law’s parents’ house so I’ll be with family. It’s going to take me a week to rest up and acclimate to the altitude. Mr. FixIt will join me on the 13th so that time will pass quickly.

I had a lot of time to think about this as I was driving yesterday. I don’t like being this far away from Mr. FixIt. I thought about that from every angle. I asked myself if it was co-dependency. I don’t think it’s that at all. I do all kinds of things without him and I don’t need to be attached at the hip. I talked with my dear friend Deneene about this last night. She lost her husband unexpectedly about a year after Mr. Virgo died. She is also recently remarried. We decided it’s not co-dependency at all. It’s the fact that we KNOW what can happen and how quickly it can come. I don’t think it’s that I’m doing something without him. It’s that I’m doing something so far away from him and I can’t get to him quickly. THAT I don’t like at all.

Still, it is fun in many ways. I’ve seen some beautiful countryside. The sky was blue and wide open. I’ve forgotten what that looks like living in West Virginia. (I took the picture while driving but my phone was in a cradle and all I did was touch the screen. No eyes off the road for me!) I don’t have anything pressing to do once I get to Denver so I can relax and catch up on my rest, keep myself really hydrated to counteract the altitude, knit, write, and visit with my Colorado peeps. I could not believe how green Kansas is. They had the same long, drawn out, wet spring everyone else had. It is so hard to believe the temperature is in the high 90’s in Colorado and one week ago they had two feet of snow. Crazy weather!

Oh, see that picture bottom right? That’s my digital laser thermometer. After burning up an axle in Indiana two summer ago, I check my hubs religiously…every time I stop and get out of the truck. I know you can just put your hand down there and feel if it’s hot, but how hot is too hot and if it IS that hot, you’ll burn the heck out of your hand. I keep watch on it and it’s always between 100-110. That’s perfect. If it goes up, it means the bearings need grease.

Well, I’m on the last leg of this Grand Adventure. The last leg of the first part of it, anyway! It’s just me and Jesus…making our way west!

❤️

“….“The Lord watch between you and me, when we are out of one another’s sight.”

Genesis 31:49 ESV

#Separation, #Marriage, #Adventure

Road Trip: Can’t Keep a Good Gal Down!

Fri, 28 Jun 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“A Shady Spot”

If you would have asked me at 10:00 Wednesday night, I would have told you (as I told you this morning) there was NO WAY I was going to leave for Colorado yesterday morning. Ahhhh…but, once I got past the icky stomach, took my tummy medicine, and slept a solid eight hours, it was a whole different ballgame.

Because I was getting up and down, I slept in the guest room so I wouldn’t wake up Mr. FixIt. I awoke before dawn…around 5:00…and felt great. I read my devotionals and caught up on some correspondence then my sweetheart came to check on me around 7:00. I met him with a big smile and said I was good to go! He smiled back with relief. He doesn’t like it when I’m sick anymore that the other way around.

It took a couple of hours to finish packing the truck and camper and I was on the road by 9:00. My first stop was Walmart to pick up a few things. I had some things to return. I got back to the camper and put away my purchases and got in the truck. There were my return items sitting on the front seat. Oy! I really didn’t want to cart them to Colorado so I went back in and stood in a long, slow line. But, it’s done and I was out before too long.

The next and final stop was gas and a great big drink to stay hydrated on my trip. The young gal behind the counter was very excited because she is leaving on vacation today. Her very first camping trip! Well, I turned right back around and talked with her for awhile! I sure hope she has a grand time and decides to keep right on camping! Those first few camping trips are critical. You’ll either love it or hate it.

It was really hot yesterday and about midway through my drive, I pulled over into a rest area to stretch out on my bed. Well, it was over 90 degrees! Of course, when you pull into a rest area, there’s no electricity, so no AC. You need to improvise. The last time I drove cross country alone, I stopped in Kansas for a rest and needed to do something to cool off. I had a tiny little battery fan and a cold pack from the freezer. It worked ever so slightly, but it wasn’t long before the cold pack was melted and that was the end of that.

When I was at Walmart yesterday, I bought two 10” fans that are powered by fan and batteries. I’ve also taken to carrying a very large bottle of water that I keep in the freezer of the camper. Went I stretched out on my bed yesterday, I sat the large frozen container in a basin and put the fan behind it. I also had three water bottles I had frozen. I set them up in front of the other fan. I positioned myself in front of the cool air and had a lovely mini siesta. Perfect! I popped all the bottles back in the freezer before I pulled back on the highway.

“Hillbilly Air Conditioner!”

That right there is a little hillbilly ingenuity. Appalachians are a resourceful lot. I arrived at my favorite little campground in Richmond, Indiana at around 5:30…had supper from my slow cooker and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings as the sun went down. I tried to keep from turning on the AC, but it was still 85 degrees at 8:00 and I was done with the heat by that time. I’ve never slept all night with the AC on in this little camper. It’s pretty noisy in this tiny little space.

I wrote early last night so I could have a good solid night’s sleep. Yesterday was a long day, but I didn’t get very far. That’s usually how it works on the first day out. For me, anyway. I monitored all the systems on the camper and the truck and everything worked just as it should so I don’t foresee any difficulties. As always, I say my prayers for travel mercies. I appreciate when you do, as well.

Have a beautiful Friday!!!

❤️

“Guard me, O Lord, from the hands of the wicked; preserve me from violent men, who have planned to trip up my feet.”
Psalms 140:4 ESV

Vacations: Past & Present

Fri, 21 Jun 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Vacation Photos: The Making of Memories”

The idea of a vacation was totally foreign to me till I was in my late twenties. My family were not big travelers. We didn’t go to the beach every summer like many of my friends’ families did. We didn’t go camping or hike or play on the river that was a mere five blocks from our house. My Grandma was only west of the Mississippi a couple of times in her life. The first was to see my Uncle Sonny get his wings as an Air Force pilot. The second was when she went to Minnesota to visit my aunt’s resort on Lake Kabetogama. Two vacations in her life.

We didn’t have the money to have extravagant vacations. We visited my aunt and uncle over near the eastern panhandle of West Virginia for a week every summer. That was as close to a vacation that I ever got until I was married to Hubby #2. Our first real vacation was a road trip, car camping around Colorado. After that, we went to West Virginia several times to visit family and one year we went on a twenty mile backpack trip there.

The first extravagant vacation we had was a trip to Cancun with friends the year before I had Daughter #2. We went to Hawaii once, but it was very difficult to get him away from his practice for very long. We did quick trips to DC, Yellowstone, and Disney. After he and I parted company, I traveled alone whenever I could. I took Daughter #2 on a three week road trip when she turned thirteen and took her to Mexico for her sixteenth birthday.

When Mr. Virgo came along, we had great plans to travel when he retired. We did go on a long road trip for our honeymoon. We went to Utah once, and Yellowstone twice. In the summer of 2011, I took him to West Virginia to meet my family. He wanted to take me to Europe to see all the beautiful places he had been. We were buying a camper for retirement when he died.

Heading out on my own again, this time with my own little camper, I found travel to be my solace…my escape…a panacea for the pain of losing my husband. I traveled a lot in those years following his death. And, I was still on the road when my Uncle Bud called me home to live on the family farm. Even living there seemed like a vacation…a dream vacation luxuriating in the memories of my loving family.

Then, Mr. FixIt came along. Thankfully, he was retired and itching to get out and do things. We’ve already accomplished more travel in the short time we’ve been together than I did in the last thirty years. But, is it really “vacation” when you’re retired? Yes and no. No, because every day is Saturday, to some extent. We aren’t bound by the clock and time is somewhat our own. Yes when you consider all the work our properties entail.

I am so grateful for the opportunities to travel and see new places. I know there may come a time in the future when I may not get to do these things, so I’m making up for lost time. I’m banking memories like a squirrel hiding nuts. Someday, I’ll look back on all this…I’ll read the pages of this blog or my book…and have some wonderful stories to tell.

❤️

“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man.”
Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 ESV

Early Bird Special

Mon, 17 Jun 2019 01:30:53 -0600

“Father’s Day in Florida…a little slice of Heaven!”

It wasn’t that many years ago that I looked on as “old people” toddled into restaurants to eat dinner at 4:00 in the afternoon. The “Early Bird Special”. “Bonkers!” I thought. “What on earth are they doing eating at this time of day? Don’t they know how to have FUN anymore?”

HA!

Guess who can’t eat anything other than Raisin Bran after 5:00??? Yeah…what goes around, comes around, don’t it?

So Father’s Day started out great. A lovely breakfast served to my sweet man…father to a great family…love of my heart. Then, we headed to the Ponce deLeon Lighthouse. We’ve been there before. It was earlier in the day…I was in much better shape…and it wasn’t so darned hot the last time. The “feels like” temperature yesterday when we arrived at said lighthouse was 98 degrees.

When you came out of the drastically air conditioned gift shop into the Florida heat and humidity at 1:00 in the afternoon, it seriously felt like walking into a sauna. And, there were signs everywhere that said “No water bottles.” Among other important things to leave behind like pets and flip flops.

Seriously? You want a slightly pudgy West Virginian with heat intolerance to climb up 203 steps…without water…or air, for that matter. Ok, I’ve done it before…I’m sure I can do it again. As I climbed the stairs, I got to the first landing and remembered. THIS was the lighthouse I didn’t like before. It gets narrower and narrower the further up you go till it becomes really tight. AND…they don’t open the windows so there is zero air flow.

The last time I felt like this was in 1989 when I climbed up the interior staircase of the hidden inner pyramid of Chichen Itza. Very narrow, steep stairs, slippery with the dampness, only the occasional incandescent bulb hanging dimly to lead your way. Four of us entered…our good friends, Hubby #2, and me. Only two of us made it up. Me and our friend’s husband. The others backed out with feelings of claustrophobia.

This felt tight and close like that and by the time I got up to that first flight, I couldn’t breathe. It was the heat and being out of and still feeling the effects of illness. There’s nothing wrong with saying, “Nope…not doing this one!” I went down and out and sat in a rocker on the front porch of the lighthouse keeper’s house, waiting for Mr. FixIt to come out on the balcony above.

He snapped a few pictures and chatted with some folks from Roanoke then gave me a jaunty wave. When he came back down, he looked like a drowned rat. It was time to cool off and we headed for the air conditioned museums.

Once we were cooler, we headed to the truck and drove down to New Smyrna Beach. I’ve got to tell you, driving down that narrow little street with the Father’s Day crowds didn’t feel much different than climbing that ever narrowing lighthouse with no air. I couldn’t believe how many people were crowded into such a tiny area.

I’ve been there before so I didn’t really need to get out. But it was Father’s Day…we do for the ones we love. I won out when we finally found ONE parking spot in a lot. You pay by entering your driver’s license number and stick in your credit card. When the fee came up in the window, I nearly fell over. $20.00! You had to pay for a full day. Nope! Not doing that either.

We headed back toward our condo and we both decided we were hungry and wanted seafood. We came by Blackbeard’s Inn and remembered eating there the last time we were in Florida. We pulled in and had such a good meal. Blue crab cake and coconut shrimp with a baked potato. All perfectly delicious.

What time was it, you ask?

4:00

The Early Bird Special!

sigh

❤️

‬‬“Do not reject me now that I am old; do not abandon me now that I am feeble.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭71:9‬ ‭GNT

Facebook Memories

Sat, 15 Jun 2019 01:30:16 -0600

“The Storm King House”

Oh, sometimes those memories that pop up on your timeline are killers, aren’t they? On my birthday, five years ago, I put my Colorado house on the market. I bought this house when Hubby #2 and I split up. It was about a third built and I chose my colors, carpeting, cabinets and countertops, and all the plumbing and lighting fixtures. Even though Daughter #2 was only eleven years old, she spent three weeks at a time with each of us. It was, essentially, the first time I’d ever lived sort of alone.

I was so proud of the house. I did the landscaping myself…laying sod, planting trees and flowers. This was before the days of “TOW-Wanda” so my little house was my sanctuary. I decorated like girls lived there…because, they did. I had green and white striped sofas and lots of florals. No TV. The antique rolltop desk that my uncle left to me when he died sat where an entertainment center was supposed to go.

I didn’t have curtains. I needed all the light I could get. I loved that house. Then, Mr. Virgo came along. Six months after he moved into the house, he diplomatically asked if I had ever given any thought to redecorating. I think the fru-fru girly stuff was getting to his mountain man sensibilities. I acquiesced and when we were married, we got rid of all the furniture and started over.

A friend of mine was moving to Hilton Head and didn’t want to take the furniture from her million dollar house, so I bought about $25,000 worth of furniture from her for $4,000. We painted the first floor living area as loft gold, hung tapestry valances, and brought in the new furniture. We had the painting behind the dining room table done by a Colorado artist. And we found the breakfast table and chairs at a local furniture store.

I felt so….grown up. All this sophisticated furniture with my homey touches of family antiques filled my heart. I really, REALLY loved my house.

Then Mr. Virgo died. We had just refinanced the house five months before he died. In order to give us flexibility with payments, we went with a thirty year mortgage with the understanding we would pay it off quickly when we were flush and still stay afloat on the lean months. Now I was faced with a tenth of the income and a mortgage that wouldn’t be paid off till I was ninety years old!

I quickly began to hate the house. It needed new carpet, new windows, new appliances, new paint. It was nickel and dime-ing me to death. And there were memories around every corner. I couldn’t stand it. I stayed away as much as I could. They tell you not to make any major decisions in the first year after losing your spouse. So, I waited till the next summer and decided to sell.

I wouldn’t change a thing, really. I made my decisions based on what I was faced with in the moment. I suppose, maybe I could have kept the house and rented it out, but that just presents a whole different set of problems. We went through that when we rented it out for three years while we worked around the state. In reality, it would have been cumbersome.

Do I miss it? I don’t know…I look at these pictures and remember how beautiful it was. I remember all my stuff I had in it. I think the thing I miss the most is that great front porch. But that is not the life I live now. That was then. This is now. I have a life now that I wouldn’t trade for the world. And, when we build our retirement home, we can make it any way we want it. And I’ll have a big front porch just like this one. That’s the one thing I’ll ask for special.

Facebook Memories….sometimes they blindside you. Sometimes they show you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

❤️

“For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything.” Hebrews 3:4 NIV

Happy Birthday!

Thu, 13 Jun 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“Happy Birthday, to ME!”

June is my birthday month.

I love June. I love my birthday. So I just combine them and celebrate the whole month!

After sleeping twelve hours straight on Tuesday night, Mr. FixIt and I went down to the beach and walked then played in the pool for a while. After lunch, I took a three hour nap. Seeing a trend there? It’s all about ME ‘cause it’s my birthday month!

Just as I woke up, Mr. FixIt walked in to make sure I didn’t sleep too long and not be able to sleep later. Then he asked me that question every woman longs to hear.

“How would you like to go eat ice cream for dinner?”

Back off girls…I saw him first!

Yes, ladies…I have married the perfect man. Not only does he celebrate my birthday with me for a month…but he also takes me out for an ice cream dinner. Sexiest man alive.

After a dinner of butter pecan in a chocolate dipped waffle cone, we drove around. We shopped at a couple of Mr. FixIt’s stores. We found Aldi’s and picked up a few groceries. Wonderful strawberries for a dollar.

A simple day…Birthday Eve.

Today is my actual birthday.

Sixty-six. Wow. Why does it sound so much older than sixty-five?

Some of the grandchildren were over Monday evening before we left. I told them how old I was going to be.

“Sixty-six! Can you believe that? It has been half a century since I was sixteen! Half a century!!! You know that’s fifty years, right???”

My wise grandson-in-law said, “Did it go fast?”

How do you answer that? Yes…it flew by in a nanosecond! No, it lasted forever! It’s both.

It’s the coolest thing…to be sixteen plus fifty. I was sixteen in 1969…the summer of love. “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69!” That’s how my best friend signed her letters when she was off at a summer internship. Woodstock. Rock and Roll. Hippies. Bell bottoms. Long hair.

I thought I was free.

I was so wrong.

It took living those fifty years to actually BECOME free. Funny how that works. I’d hate to have gone through all that and not learned the beautiful, hard, gritty, wonderful lessons involved.

Sixty-six. Nope, that doesn’t bother me a bit.

I’m a crone now. I love that!

Happy Birthday to ME!

❤️

““ ‘ “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” ’” Numbers 6:24-26 NIV

Van Life

Mon, 10 Jun 2019 01:30:34 -0600

“One of our Girl Campers brought her conversion van to camp in. We were sold!”

My dear friend Gail has a conversion van that is tricked out like a camper. It’s currently in the camper hospital so she camped in a tent this time. But one of the other gals brought her conversion van and was kind enough to give me a peek inside.

I can see now why van girls love these so much! There is a lot you can pack into a small space. Christy has hers in soft pastels and cream, making the space seem much larger. She uses her Yeti cooler as extra seating. She has a whole kitchen crammed in this little cabinet.

This really got my creative juices flowing and I was thinking of all the things I can do to the minivan when I get ready to convert it. The only downside I could see is no air conditioner. She does have a 12v fan she can use, but I’m thinking I would be limited to spring and fall excursions.

Christy spend five weeks at Quartzite, Arizona in the winter and never felt claustrophobic in this setup. She is thinking she would like to take it on the road full-time. I belong to a few Facebook groups that focus on the van life. It’s intriguing…but a little too confining for two.

Anyway, someone asked to see the van…so here she is! Enjoy!

❤️

“It’s better to live in a hut in the wilderness than with a crabby, scolding spouse!” Proverbs 21:19 TPT

One Hour & Thirty-Five Dollars = A Haircut

Thu, 06 Jun 2019 01:30:12 -0600

“Before and After…what a difference a haircut makes!”

I haven’t really felt like my perky self for a while. Nothing I could really put my finger on. Maybe a little tired. Maybe a little down about aging. I’ve been losing weight but avoiding the mirror. It didn’t really dawn on me till I saw pictures from the baptism a couple of weeks ago and I was up on the stage with my bonus granddaughter. Gasp! I looked SO old! I looked like my grandma. Not that that is a bad thing, but I’m talking in her 80’s. I was in desperate need of a haircut!

I always celebrate birthday month…not just a week or a weekend or a day. Nope…I was born in June…I celebrate JUNE! This month I turn 66. It’s only a number. I have more energy than I did at half my age. I remember when I turned 26. I was SO depressed! It had been a WHOLE DECADE since I got my driver’s license. Give me a break! Now it’s been half a century since I got my driver’s license. insert eye roll here

No, it wasn’t my actual calendar age that was getting to me. It was my hair. I got lazy. I got tired of going in every six weeks and getting it cut. I got tired of sometimes having the perfect cut and other times wondering what went wrong. I got tired of spending the money on something that you just have to do over and over and over.

It’s not my fault really. I saw beautiful older women on Pinterest…long flowing locks of silver hair caressing unnaturally perky breasts. Stylishly dressed. Leaning against brick buildings in downtown New York City….their jacket carelessly draped across their shoulders…their chunky boho jewelry and oversized sunglasses deflecting my gaze from anything that could barely be called crepe-y skin. No…Pinterest assured me I would look uber chic with long, silver hair.

Then, I took a look at myself and wondered what on earth possessed me to do such a thing. Me…in my JCPenney sleeveless summer dress made from t-shirt material. Me…of the ample upper arms and comfortable tummy. Me…of the “I know I have makeup SOMEWHERE in this house!” Me…of the Chacos and farmer tan and clip-on sunglasses and floppy brimmed had and a riding mower. Yeah…it was time for a reality check.

I called Michelle on Tuesday and cried uncle. I said, “You win! I’m coming in to cut it off!” I’m almost sure I heard an audible sigh of relief from the other end of the phone. “How’s tomorrow at 11:00?” She didn’t want to wait too long for fear I might change my mind.

An hour. Thirty-five dollars. That’s all it took to bring back my sparkle. It’s really true…if you LOOK good, you FEEL good. I walked out of there feeling like a million bucks! It’s such a simple thing…getting a haircut. Oh, and a pedi. A MUCH needed pedi. I hadn’t had a “Me Day” for such a long time. It was way overdue and I feel so much better.

I sent the before and after photos to Mr. FixIt with a note…”Here’s the girl you fell in love with!” And you wanna know what he said?

“You’re beautiful…but, I didn’t fall in love with your hair.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

❤️

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

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

Field of Dreams

Tue, 04 Jun 2019 01:30:23 -0600

“My Field of Dreams.”

I know, I know…how many pictures of a field am I going to post here, right? Oh…however many times I am moved by the view, I suppose…which is daily. Every day, every hour, the view changes with the light. This was taken Sunday afternoon after the heavy rain and hail that swept through the surrounding area. I love the way the sky is slightly pink as the sun begins to set over the hill far to the left there. The air is soft with humidity and brushes the edges of the woods with a velvety glow.

I have a lifelong sister/friend who asked me yesterday if there wasn’t family who could come and mow this for us. After all…I’m 65. I smiled at her love and concern for me. Then I told her what I tell everyone who asks why I still mow. First, 65…nay, 66 in nine days…is young, if you ask me. Second, this is my home, too. Of course I’m going to work on it. Also, seriously…all I do is sit on a riding mower and drive around and around with headphones on listening to rock and roll music. How hard is that?

My biggest reason is this…I spent my entire life praying to have exactly what I have now. I have so much joy in my heart, a few hours driving around cutting grass is the smallest of prices to pay. I truly love it! That being said, my shoulders are tired and sore when I’m done. I wish for a hot shower and a masseuse…only one of which is readily available. But it’s a good sore…a good tired. And I sleep really soundly when I’ve worked hard.

I mowed the big fields yesterday while Mr. FixIt was in town working. We have a lot to get done before we head out camping on Thursday. According to the weather report, we are in for a cool, cloudy weekend with the possibility of rain showers. That’s ok…we’ll have plenty to keep us busy under the canopies. I bought walls for the canopy that will hold heat in. Gail has her canopy, as well. Camping is fun, no matter what!

❤️

“Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.” Psalm 96:11-12 NIV

Weather Warnings

Mon, 03 Jun 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“Clockwise from top left: Milkweed about to bloom, box turtle preparing to lay eggs, hail along the road, the field we were married in, hail from 10 miles down the road from the Ponderosa”

When you live twenty miles from town and get a severe thunderstorm warning for home, you have to just hope for the best. I always send a quick prayer up when we get those alerts but this time it came while we were in the restaurant having breakfast and didn’t have our phones on us.

As we were driving home, Mr. FixIt’s son called to see if we had hail. They saw a news report with quarter sized hailstones from just a few miles away from the house. When we got closer to home, we started to see leaves on the road looking all the world like chopped salad. There were patches of white hail gathered along the roadside. The creeks were roaring. It didn’t look good.

All we could think of was the campers, my truck, and water in the basement. But when we came around the last bend in the road, the damage just stopped. When we passed the house closest to us, I looked for her garden and it was pristine! No hail here! We rushed downstairs and there was no water in the basement either. God was watching out for us again!

We walked around the fields in the early evening. We came across this box turtle. She had dug a hole and was preparing to lay her eggs. I’ve never seen that before. As we came around the end of the camper we are selling, a doe was standing in the field watching us. We talked quietly to her and she stood still for a long time listening before she moved on.

We found a deer skull on the rocks by the creek…probably scavenged road kill from the two lane out front. The pears are getting bigger on the two trees out front. We got a couple tomato plants on clearance at Walmart so we’ll plant those this week. I also need to start getting the camper packed for the Girl Camper trip this week. And…the grass needs mowed…again.

❤️

“It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain.” Isaiah 4:6 NIV

From Beast to Beauty

Sat, 01 Jun 2019 01:30:03 -0600

“The glorious Luna Moth!”

It takes about ten days for the egg of the luna moth to hatch into a tiny caterpillar and another five to six weeks for that caterpillar to go through multiple instars (stages of growth) to reach its full size…2.5” long by 3/4” diameter. That’s a big green worm! Once it reaches its full size, it spins a cocoon and usually about two weeks later, the moth emerges, wings shriveled and damp. Over the course of several hours, fluid is pumped into the wings, they dry, and voila…one of the largest silk moths of North America emerges to grace us with its presence.

Normally, the luna moth has a wingspan of about 4.5” but they can be as large as 7” across. This fellow is a male. His wings angle backwards somewhat and his abdomen is smaller because he isn’t carrying the 200-400 eggs the female has. They fly in the evening and at night in late spring and early summer. They don’t particularly like when the temperature dips into the 50’s. They’ll be somewhat paralyzed until it warms up.

I love when I catch sight of one of these beautiful moths. You don’t see them quite as often as you used to because a type of predatory fly was introduced to control the invasive gypsy moths and they’ve damaged several species of moths, including the glorious luna.

Mr. FixIt called me into the kitchen last night so I could see this fellow. I ran outside with my phone so I could take pictures while the light was still good. As I was coming back inside, I found the remains of a luna who wasn’t so lucky…wings scattered here and there, coated with drops of dew. Nature. It’s a rough world out there.

“The remnants of an unfortunate demise.”

When I came out to the camper to write afterwards, I watched a video on Facebook. The premise was two former classmates run into each other in the parking lot of the grocery store. They chat and it becomes apparent one is wealthy and the other is not. The one who was not tells the other about her son getting a job after graduation and that he is thriving and so happy. The other kind of turns her nose up a bit and brags about HER son who is going to Stanford. And, as a matter of fact, he was on his way to pick her up….wasn’t that sweet? The poorer mother smiled and nodded and congratulated the other mom on her son’s great achievements. But you could see when wealthy mom left, the working boy’s mom looked a little let down.

I am ashamed to say, I can relate to that…however fleetingly. This is the time of year when news of graduations fill the pages of social media with our darlings’ academic accomplishments. It’s beautiful and I don’t begrudge them their joy. Not one bit. We were thrilled when Daughter #1 got her Associates Degree, majoring in drama. We told her that, and $3.50 would buy her a cup of coffee and she should go on and at least get her Bachelors Degree. But no…she and her fiancé had other plans and married a month or two after graduation.

At some point along the way, she realized perhaps her parents had been right and she had an excellent opportunity to go back to school at which time she became a Special Ed teacher. Again, we were so proud. Then, somewhere down the road, she went back and got her Masters. She’s still married to her college sweetheart and coming up on their 24th anniversary.

Daughter #2 is brilliant…maybe more so than her sister as far as IQ goes. But she has always danced to her own music, struggled over eight years getting her Bachelors but never gave up, and now works in management in the food service industry…the love for which she received from her beloved stepfather…Mr. Virgo.

In the movie I watched earlier, the Stanford son berated his mother for keeping him from his friends and let her know she was distinctly cramping his style while the poor son brings his mama flowers and tells her how much he loves and appreciates her for everything she does for him. A dramatization, for sure. But there is much truth there, unfortunately.

A while back, a friend from long ago posted photos of her daughter getting her doctorate. They flew to Australia to visit her where she was doing research. Her two younger daughters were married, one after the other. Beautiful. Successful. This girl and Daughter #2 had play dates together when they were babies. I had a moment of full on green envy.

For only a moment. Because, in that moment, Daughter #2 called me on the phone. I sat back and listened to her go on and on about the upcoming wedding and how her dress is just so perfect and makes her look like a million bucks. We chatted about how the bouquets are being made with origami flowers from comic book pages. And she found a real Viking drinking horn at a pawn shop and that’s what they’re going to toast with! Wow! And under her dress? Tie dyed Vans…of course!

As I listened to her happy voice, my mind drifted back over the many phone calls when she struggled and suffered through depression and anxiety. Really struggled. And I realized…rich, poor, Stanford, Community College, PhD, shift lead in a restaurant…none of that matters. She’s happy. There is light and life in her voice. My eyes filled with tears…from shame that I was even momentarily envious…and from sincere joy and relief that my baby didn’t end up a statistic like so many others have.

I still have her here…in all her quirky, wonderful weirdness. As we prepared to hang up, she gave me that sweetest gift every mama craves.

“I love you, mama…all over your face!”

“I love you too, Moon Pie.”

She made it…just like the caterpillar to the glorious Luna.

❤️

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4 NIV

Keep Moving Forward...Always

Fri, 31 May 2019 01:30:48 -0600

“I’ve finished the wedding quilt!”

I have over 28,000 emails on my iPhone. This makes my daughter crazy. She says, “What if you missed something???” I say, “Yeah, there’s always a chance of that. But, what if I stayed on my phone for 8 hours a day reading, answering, or deleting every e-mail that came through? I wouldn’t get anything else done.”

I have been known to miss an occasional message, but for the most part, when I scan through, I see the important stuff. A couple of weeks ago, I saw something intriguing come through. Someone was searching for quotes about if or how and why blogging through grief has helped me cope. I wrote back and didn’t think much more about it.

It was a rainy, cool day yesterday. I cuddled up in my little camper and stitched the binding on my daughter’s wedding quilt and listened to the rain hit the roof. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of something brown running by and under my camper. It was two large rabbits. They chased each other all afternoon and made me smile. They made me think of Watership Down. One stopped beneath my window in plain sight. I whispered, “Be careful of the hrududus, bunny!”

Sometimes I feel like I run out of things to say here. I think maybe you’ve heard every story I ever knew. Sometimes I think I begin to sound like your slightly dotty Aunt Felicity who tells you everything she ate today. I know that’s an exaggeration, but still…I wonder if I’m wearing out my welcome. When I stitch or knit or mow or drive, I have conversations with God and I ask him to tell me when I’m done. And, every…single…time, He sends me someone to tell me, “No, dear one. Not yet. Someone tomorrow needs your stories.”

As I stitched on my daughter’s wedding quilt, I watched old black & white reruns of the Andy Griffith Show. Up popped a message from a reader I haven’t heard from in four and a half years. In those years she had lost a husband. Had gained a love. And nearly lost him to a silent heart attack. My posts that they’ve been reading together helped them to see how life can change in an instant. They are working together to create a new life, new adventures, in a new direction. They asked me to please keep doing what I’m doing. It made me cry. God knows our hearts. He hears our pleas. And he sends us answers if we’ll just slow down and listen and pay attention.

After reading that, another message popped up. It was from the woman who wrote to me two weeks ago seeking that quote and the article was published yesterday. I read down through the stories of all the people she had quoted and realized two of them I am connected with on Twitter. I’ll connect with the others now.

Grief is a solitary business yet it thrusts us into a community of others going through similar experiences. The biggest point I made in my story for the article was this…you are not alone. No matter how hard grief is. No matter how isolating it is. No matter how crazy and lonely and forgetful it makes you…you are never truly alone. For me…I have Jesus and my family and you guys.

I’m not about to quit on that.

You can read the collection of stories here: https://www.aklander.co.uk/news/why-blogging-can-help-with-grief

❤️

“For that reason, I don’t run just for exercise or box like one throwing aimless punches, but I train like a champion athlete. I subdue my body and get it under my control, so that after preaching the good news to others I myself won’t be disqualified.”
1 Corinthians 9:26-27 TPT

Gracious Conversations

Wed, 29 May 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“Let your conversations be gracious and attractive.”

I have been trying to be more conscious of my conversations of late. I try to steer clear of gossip…listening or repeating. I try to discern the difference between sharing concern or inquiring of someone’s wellbeing and telling tales out of school. I have to be honest…I haven’t always done the best at that.

I’m a storyteller, but I don’t want to be known as a gossip. So when I have conversations with others, I seek to be gracious. I do have my closest confidants with whom I can be brutally honest, but still be gracious.

It is especially difficult to be gracious in today’s sociopolitical climate. People can be truly offensive without necessarily intending to be. And, the same goes for us. We can easily offend others without being aware of it.

Social media is an excellent place to practice gracious conversation, but it isn’t always easy. I am a co-administrator for our class page on Facebook. I asked that someone be made co-administrator simply because we are aging. So many of our friends were dying, I thought if we lost our administrator, we’d lose control of the page and it’s really wonderful to catch up with our friends there.

I received a message from one of my classmates yesterday informing me someone had placed one of those political articles of questionable origin on our class page. She was gracious and expressed her dismay that something so obviously intended to be divisive had been posted there and would I please remove it.

I went to the page and didn’t do anything more than read the headlines and immediately removed the post. Then, I created a post of my own and said I had removed a political post. I reminded our classmates that there are plenty of pages that support those kinds of posts and it didn’t matter to me whose side it was on…it was not appropriate for our class page.

I reminded them we are only “Big Reds” when we are on that page. It’s intended to keep our classmates informed of upcoming events. All too often these days it is where we inform the class that someone has died. It’s a wonderful place to reconnect with old friends we haven’t seen or heard from…sometimes since graduation.

We can stop the political diatribe from amping up by being gracious in our conversations. And, when that doesn’t work, we can disconnect and/or turn a deaf ear to the offender. Just because someone is baiting us, doesn’t mean we need to bite. I wish it were so simple always. I know it’s not. But it felt good to say, “Look, we’ll have none of that here.”

I was camping with a group of women a couple of years ago. Someone went on a rant about politics AND religion…in the SAME conversation. They were making disparaging comments about Jesus. Our hostess stopped her cold by saying, “I love the Lord, and I will not sit here and listen to any such talk. Let’s change the subject, please.” Simple, honest, gracious, and to the point. The subject changed and that was the end of it. I was very proud. And emboldened to have my own gracious conversations.

Practicing grace and kindness elevates our spirits. It lifts us above the ugliness that can creep in. Go out and practice gracious conversations this week. See what a difference it makes in your stress level.

❤️

“let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance—” Proverbs 1:5 NIV

Praying for Others

Tue, 28 May 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“Praying for others is the key to freedom.”

As time passes, my daughter’s wedding is looming in the forefront of my mind. What to wear? Well, I’ve bought three dresses…so far. It depends what suits me that day, I think. The event seems to be fast and loose so I’m not terribly worried about that part.

As I headed into this, the idea of being the mother of the bride…for the last time really…filled me with delicious anticipation mixed with bits of trepidation. Her father and I have mended a lot of fences over the years and I am so proud of the way we can demonstrate good behaviors for our kids and grandkids. Long gone are the angry jabs at each other over a love gone awry.

I overcame the majority of the pain, anger, and resentment through fervent prayer and good therapy. Prayer was my tool. I prayed my family would be healed. I prayed the father of my child would find joy and happiness with the woman he chose. The more I prayed for HIM, the happier I became.

That being said, the enemy loves to sneak in and tell me lies. He loves to remind me I’ve gained a few pounds and my ex-husband will notice. He loves to make me second guess myself and be self conscious of my body and my dress choice. He loves to whisper in my ear and tell me if I would have been a better wife, that great big estate my ex owns could have been mine.

Lies. They are all lies. I could have been the best wife in the history of the universe and the marriage could have still fallen apart. I’m not taking 100% of that one. I’ll comfortably accept my 50%. If I even consider my weight as being something my ex would judge me for, I’m setting myself up for failure and disappointment.

Here’s the thing…if we look for something, we WILL find it. If I look for judgement, I’ll feel judged. If I look for criticism, I’ll feel criticized…even if it’s subconsciously. And, as soon as I feel those things, I’ll react defensively. That whole scenario is a totally no win situation. Nothing good can come from that.

Recently I read about a technique for recognizing the cycle of anxiety and stopping it in its tracks. The premise is, as soon as you feel the very first sensations of anxiety…even if it’s just the thought of feeling anxious…you pull back and become the observer. Recognize what is happening and say to yourself…”Hmmmm, that’s interesting. I’m having a feeling that stemmed from a thought. It is just a thought.” Then, you picture surrounding that thought in a bubble, reach out, and poke it with your finger.

Poof!

When you can recognize what anxiety really is, it’s much easier to step back, give it a poke, and send it on it’s way. It has been working quite well in the last few months. One would think, at the ripe age of 66 (in about three weeks), I’d have gotten a handle on anxiety long before now. Sometimes it’s the fear of having an anxiety attack that brings it on. It’s crazy…but it’s quite real.

This wedding isn’t about me. His house isn’t about me. My weight isn’t even completely about me in that it was caused by taking steroids twice this year. I’m the only me I have. I am the only mom my kids have. The only Nana for my grands. I am my husband’s queen. He will think I am scrumptious no matter what I’m wearing or where I sit.

This is such a relief…to let go of fear. The fear of rejection. The fear of not being good enough. The fear of doing or saying something wrong.

I am enough. I have always been enough.

Dang…I love my sixties!

❤️

“But the moment one turns to the Lord with an open heart, the veil is lifted and they see. Now, the “Lord” I’m referring to is the Holy Spirit, and wherever he is Lord, there is freedom.”
2 Corinthians 3:16-17 TPT

Smoke

Sun, 26 May 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Life has a certain synchronicity. It swirls round and round like wisps of smoke.”

Mail delivery is different when you live on a rural route. When you drive out any two lane blacktop, there are dirt roads that go off up into hollers. There may be a dozen or more houses up there, but it wouldn’t be feasible to send a mail carrier up every little dirt track. So, you often see a whole row of mailboxes on the corner and everyone has to pick up their own mail. Our mailbox is across the two lane from the Ponderosa so we either walk up or stop on our way out when we go somewhere.

When I first moved in with Mr. FixIt, I seldom got any mail here. I have a post office box that I use for my business so it was just easier for me to get all my mail there. Because the majority of the mail was his, I never really saw it unless I picked it up. Mr. FixIt was throwing away junk mail one day and casually remarked, for some reason he had received coupons for cigarettes. He couldn’t figure out how in the world he ever got on their mailing list.

We went into town yesterday to decorate graves on Mr. FixIt’s side of the family. We stopped to get the mail and there was another cigarette advertisement. He handed me the mail and said, “See? We got it again!” I sat there, holding the mail in my hands. For a moment, my heart skipped a beat and I could barely breathe.

“Is this the brand you got before?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s always the same.”

I ran my fingers over the familiar green box and smiled. Kools.

“You know…this is Mr. Virgo’s brand.”

“Whoa. That’s weird.”

“No…not weird. It’s just a message. A sort of hello from beyond.”

I don’t know how things work on the other side exactly. I know there is heaven. And I know the Bible says there is a veil between the worlds and those in heaven cannot see or connect with their loved ones on earth. I also know God loves us and wants to comfort our hearts when we lose loved ones so He sends us things that strike a chord with us. In my case…bluebirds. A particular song that’s out of place. Flickering lights. And, an ad. Of all the cigarette brands that are out there, the one that came was Mr. Virgo’s. It’s not even what I would consider a top brand. Why that one? On Memorial Day weekend?

I reached over and took my husband’s hand. I smiled and looked out the window at the passing scenery. I marveled at this lovely life and all its synchronicity…curling round and round like wisps of smoke.

“Hello, Mr. Virgo” I said softly. “Thanks for coming to see us.”

❤️

“Now they know that everything that you have given me is from you.”
John 17:7 ESV

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

Girl Camper Quilt

Tue, 21 May 2019 01:30:55 -0600

“The Girl Camper Quilt is almost finished!”

I spent the day yesterday at Schoolhouse Quilts. I finished sewing the border on the quilt and Carolyn did the machine quilting. I sat and visited and looked at quilting books for inspiration while the quilt was in the longarm. They make these things so fancy these days. First, she scrolled through the different patterns the machine could quilt in, then you simply put it in the rollers that hold it and push go. You do have to kind of keep an eye on it, but it’s pretty amazing how fast you can machine quilt. I think there’s probably 12 hours of work in this quilt. I do still have to hand stitch the binding down yet. It will be a prize in a giveaway we’ll be doing soon so stay tuned for details and how to enter to win!

We slept in the camper again Sunday night. I am not kidding…I could sleep in my camper every night of the year. I love it that much. I love CAMPING that much. I was going through my calendar yesterday and realized the next Girl Camping event is in sixteen days. The time really flies once warm weather gets here, doesn’t it? It seems like it crawls all winter.

The weather is so beautiful right now. We had rain and I swear, between the rain and the heat, you can actually HEAR the grass grow! I know starting today, we’ll have to start the next round of mowing. I don’t mind mowing, really. It’s fun to get out on the riding mower and let my mind wander as I watch the fields become groomed lawns. But when you start having to mow twice a week, it does get tiresome.

Still…with all the work, with all the heat and humidity and bugs and mowing…I wouldn’t trade this life for anything in the whole world! This week we clean and open the pool and mow and hoe the garden. I also will sew the binding on these two quilts and maybe even knit a little on the socks I started at camp. That plus keeping up with my writing schedule and I’ll be one busy Mountain Mama!

❤️

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Colossians 3:23-24 NIV

A Lovely Summer Evening

Mon, 20 May 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Spring? It’s more like summer here in West Virginia!”

Ok…it’s not officially summer for another month. But the temperature on the truck was 93 yesterday afternoon so that is close enough for me! Mr. FixIt and I camped in the yard beside the big building Saturday night and it was wonderful. The windows were open and a small fan on low kept us very comfortable. The mattress in the camper is better than any in the house and it’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a week. The climb-over-you bed configuration wasn’t a problem so I think we’re a go for the big Colorado trip later this summer.

Church was wonderful…again. As I stood there, holding Mr. FixIt’s hand, praising with the other…I counted my blessings as I counted my bonus family down the pew. Afterwards was breakfast out and catching up with what’s going on in their busy lives. (They thought it was very funny that their grandpa and I camped in the yard. He does lots of new things since I came along!)

We delivered a saw to his son and checked out the deck they are rebuilding. Then we headed home. I had a deadline to meet on this new writing project I’m involved with so I climbed in my little camper, turned on the AC, and got busy. In the meantime, someone came to look at the camper we are selling. When we were both finished, we did that very fun thing we love to do…we took a drive and stopped for ice cream!

As we walked back in, the light was perfect on our peonies just outside the back door so I had to stop and snap a picture. It was the perfect summation of the day…soft and sweet, warm and blessed. As I write this, I am again in the little camper, the windows flung open, the frogs peeping in the creek beyond the far field. What a rich and lovely life we lead!

❤️

“The season has changed, the bondage of your barren winter has ended, and the season of hiding is over and gone. The rains have soaked the earth and left it bright with blossoming flowers. The season for singing and pruning the vines has arrived. I hear the cooing of doves in our land, filling the air with songs to awaken you and guide you forth.” Song of Songs 2:11-12 TPT

Another Quilt Top

Sun, 19 May 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“Cute camper material for a raffle quilt”

My dear friend Gail and I will be co-hosting a Girl Camper Gathering at Blackwater Falls next month. Gail is so talented and we have so much in common…it’s always fun to camp with her. We have some great ideas for fun things to do while we are camping. This is our Kick Off to Summer Camping Event so I wanted to do something special so I’m making a lap quilt to raffle off. There will be more details as we get things finalized. If any of you are interested in camping with me, this would be an excellent opportunity! Blackwater Falls has cabins and a Lodge so there are alternatives to traditional camping if that’s not your thing. It is a beautiful park with lots to see and do.

I went to Schoolhouse Quilts again yesterday and sewed for a few hours. I almost have the top for the little camper quilt finished. I’ll have to go in next week to finish it up. I just LOVE this material and the colors are SO Girl Camperish. Carolyn who owns the shop had some really cute ideas for the border so I can’t wait to share it with you when it’s done.

Mr. FixIt and I went to the cemetery yesterday to decorate the graves of my family. We will do his family’s after church today. I wanted to avoid the rush of next weekend, especially at the little country cemetery where my family members are. There’s one little lane that goes in…the same lane comes out. And it’s on a hillside so there’s no wiggle room to pass each other.

After the cemetery, we went to North Bend State Park and checked out the campgrounds. The main campground was jam packed with kids, which I think is wonderful. They were riding bikes and playing games and enjoying themselves immensely. I am so glad their parents are getting them out and teaching them the love of camping. That being said, I am past the age of wanting to camp in a crowded campground full of screaming children. Fortunately, there is a new campground for the older, more sedate crowd. It was far more to my liking.

We ran to the farm and had dinner out so it was date night for us. It was a welcome respite to mowing, mowing, mowing!

We didn’t get to go camping this weekend so we camped last night at home in my new-to-me camper. This was our first attempt sleeping in this camper together so we will see how the climb-over-you bed arrangement works.

❤️

“However many years anyone may live, let them enjoy them all. But let them remember the days of darkness, for there will be many. Everything to come is meaningless.” Ecclesiastes 11:8 NIV

Wednesday Evening Walkabout

Thu, 16 May 2019 01:30:23 -0600

“Clockwise from Top Left: Abundant Blueberries, Honey Locust, Wild Grape Vine, Beautiful Peonies”

I finished mowing at the Ponderosa while Mr. FixIt was in town working on a porch he’s building. There were several areas around the edges of the fields where brush, vines and trees had encroached into my mowing space. They are the worst when they hang over and I have to try to mow under them. I bend way far forward over the riding mower, but sometimes a briar will jump out and grab me. So, last night after supper, I did my walkabout and took the loppers with me. I pruned back a lot of branches and threw them into the woods for the critters to munch on and hide in.

I finished the back property line before I gave up for the evening. I love how the fields look when they’re freshly mowed. They smell so good and they are all smooth and even. I snapped a few pictures as I moseyed around looking at the many varieties of trees in the woods beyond the far fields. I love this time of year. The dense foliage makes the shadowy underbrush dark and a cool breeze comes out smelling of musty earth and moldy leaves. It’s a rich aroma of sweet decay combined with cut grass, honey locust, and creek water. It’s heavenly, earthy, decadent. It makes me happy.

Once my tools were put away, I climbed in the little camper, snuggled back into my favorite corner and looked out at the sun setting over the far hill. The reflections of the puffy white clouds and bluebird sky on the windshield of my truck added movement and color to the scene. These are my tranquil moments. It’s MY time. Mr. FixIt is in his recliner inside, watching the news. We both worked hard today. It makes the evenings such a gift.

We are blessed beyond belief. We have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and love in our hearts. We have a wonderful family. We have our health. We have each other. As I was walking around the field last night, a bluebird dashed in front of me and I smiled.

“Well…hello there, Mr. Virgo. I’m doing just fine!”

❤️

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NIV

A Quiet Place

Wed, 15 May 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“Living in a quiet place fills me with peace and gratitude.”

Mr. FixIt had to go help his friend move some things in town yesterday so I hung out at home and “pretend camped”. I piddled around in the camper most of the day. I cleaned up and put things away. I swept and washed the floors and emptied the trash. I wiped things down and stripped the bed. While I was taking off the comforter, I noticed it was damp up by the front wall towards the driver’s side. A leak!

It didn’t leak when I was parked at the campground and we had some pretty heavy rain. This leak came when I was driving through torrential rain on Monday so it has to be either around the window or something at the edge. I happily discovered the bed raises up with pneumatic lifters so I could get under there and have a good look. There were no wet places on the flooring under the bed or in any of the compartments. So I’ll have to look some more.

While I was in under the bed, I got a good look at the water system. Mr. FixIt helped me and we could not figure out why the pump won’t build up pressure and shut off. Again…more investigation is needed. In the meantime, if I can flush the commode and wash my hands and the dishes, I’m not too concerned about the rest of it. Just about every place I plan to camp will have electric and if it’s cold, I have either the electric blanket or the little space heater to keep me warm.

When Mr. FixIt got home, he staked up the tomatoes. Something happened to one of the plants. It’s just gone. The rest look good though. And the beans are coming up much better than last year. I still have a bunch of food in the refrigerator in the camper so I fixed us some supper and we sat at the dinette and ate. That made me smile.

After supper, we went for a quick walk down the road. There’s been some activity on the property next door so we moseyed over to see what’s going on. They are clearing the lot so maybe we’re getting neighbors. We don’t have neighbors within sight of the house so this is something very new for Mr. FixIt. He’s lived here over 40 years.

When we were walking back down the road, holding hands, I looked out over our field and smiled. All of my life I’ve wanted to live on five acres. And here we are! I looked around and thought of all the things I would have liked to have on these five acres over the years. A barn with maybe some animals…a cow for milk and butter, some chickens, maybe a couple of goats or sheep. A big garden. Some fruit trees. I sure would have done more with this than five acres of lawn to mow. And now?

I never say it’s too late to do something. But my priorities have changed. We like to travel and we’re going to be too old before too long to maintain that level of farming. No…we’re looking at simplifying now. But it’s nice to dream about what we might have done, had we been together when we were younger.

This is our little slice of heaven, and so is the farm. When we got back from our walk, I jumped on the riding mower and mowed till it was almost too dark to see. I watched Mr. FixIt with the push mower in the fenced yard. I watched how the mower took the curves of the field and turned them into the swirly rows of a contemporary quilt. I watch the old yellow cat sitting at the edge of the field, eyeing me to see if I was going to sacrifice another turtle for him. Thankfully, I did not. I noticed the petals of the poplar blooms fallen as I mowed over them. I watched the robins swoop in to get the bugs the mower stirred up. I took a deep breath of new mown grass. And…I smiled.

❤️

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19 NIV

Rainy Days

Sun, 05 May 2019 01:30:13 -0600

“Grandma’s rhododendron is starting to bloom out at the farm. I think it might have gotten a little nipped by the polar vortex this winter, but it sure loves these rainy days!”

It has been rainy in West Virginia the last couple of days. We’ve even had some thunderstorms, which I dearly love. I remember really missing them when I lived in Colorado. The thunder doesn’t roll there like it does here. The rain held off till Mr. FixIt and I were finished changing the oil in both trucks. I sat on the mechanic’s stool, looking up at the sky when it started to sprinkle and asked God to please hold off for an hour or so. He was so gracious to do so. Thank you.

I was very disappointed. We had everything set up. I got the truck up on the ramps with Mr. FixIt’s guidance, and I got down under the engine and set to work. Try as I might, I simply could NOT loosen the plug in the oil pan. I couldn’t get in a good position to get leverage. The battery pack for the headlamp sat on the back of my head wrong and kept getting in my way. And for some reason, I didn’t like the feeling of that truck over my chest on the plastic ramps Mr. FixIt has. His metal ones were stolen and I just didn’t trust plastic to hold that truck up off me. It gave me the heeby-jeebies.

Mr. FixIt took my place and, with some difficulty, finally got the plug out. I got BACK under the truck and tried to loosen the oil filter and it wouldn’t budge. I hated to admit defeat, but i just don’t have the arm, wrist, and hand strength I used to have. I climbed back out and sat on the stool handing Mr. FixIt what he needed, when he needed it. When he was finished, I held the funnel while he poured the oil in.

“I’m sorry.” I said, dejectedly. “I just couldn’t do it.”

Mr. FixIt looked at me with soft eyes and said, “That’s ok, baby. That’s what husbands are for.”

For one second, the feminist reared up in my head…then I stopped. I looked at this kind, gentle, yet strong man and said…

“Service. That’s your love language, isn’t it?”

He smiled and went back to the task at hand. I didn’t even offer to try helping him when we got his truck up on the ramps. We just chatted as he told me stories or pointed out the differences between the two trucks and their filters. I sat on the stool, smiling and sending up a big “Thank You” for my many, many blessings.

❤️?❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17 NIV

Uncle!

Wed, 01 May 2019 01:30:16 -0600

“When you’re tired and overwhelmed, it’s ok to say Uncle!”

Every day since we got home from the beach has been packed full. Long hours of mowing thick, wet grass. Unpacking. Cleaning. Finally, we had to split the chores yesterday and Mr. FixIt went to the farm to mow while I worked on de-winterizing the camper. First, I filled the freshwater tank and added a little bleach to sanitize it. Then I went in and turned on the pump. It’s supposed to run a little bit, build up pressure, then shut itself off. It didn’t. As I stood in front of the kitchen sink, listening as a pitiful stream of water came from the faucet, I could hear water splashing outside.

I went out and around the camper and there was water coming out of the water heater compartment. I opened it up and saw the plug was an old type and it was rusted through. Not a good sign. I was told the camper had been fully inspected two years ago and everything worked fine. And, while I should have taken the camper to someone to have it inspected again, I trusted mine and Mr. FixIt’s camper knowledge. Besides, it was very difficult to really get in and have a look at the inner workings in the driveway where it was parked. I don’t think the previous owner was trying to scam me. I just don’t think she used the service systems because she only took it out three or four times to sleep over at horse shows.

I knew there was nothing I could do without getting a new plug. I towed the camper to an RV service center and the guy was kind enough to stop what he was doing and put a plug in. Then he proceeded to have a look around the camper and started telling me all the things that were wrong with it and made me feel generally inept and stupid. One thing he pointed out, which I hadn’t noticed was…the tires were seven years old. Even if the tread looks good and there’s no evidence of dry rot, you really shouldn’t run a trailer on tires over five years old.

My next stop was a local tire shop owned by a woman. I’ve talked with her before and I’m so impressed that she built this business from scratch. I got four trailer tires for $65 each, mounted and balanced. Then I drove to a rest area with a dump station to empty and clean the waste tanks. A camper has two waste tanks on it…”grey water” from the sinks and shower and “black water” from the toilet. That wasn’t much of a chore as they had been emptied previously. They just needed a good flushing.

Once I was finished with the tanks, I tried turning the pump on and it still wouldn’t build up pressure and shut off. That means the system isn’t sealed and there’s a leak somewhere. I didn’t see water anywhere and there was nothing dripping. By this point, I was tired, hungry, and pretty darned frustrated. I kept telling myself I’d bought a piece of junk camper and I was pretty low by the time I got home.

Mr. FixIt called. I poured out all my fears and frustrations and he asked me to tell him one thing at a time. He said they were all fairly small things and relatively easy to fix. At the most, I may need a new hot water heater, a water pump, and new propane regulator. He said I didn’t buy a piece of junk, but it is twelve years old. There are bound to be some things that will need fixing.

I got home and walked in the door. There is still a toilet, a sink, and half a shower stall in my living room. I suddenly felt defeated and sat down to think it through. When I made arrangements to attend my niece’s graduation in Indiana, I didn’t realized how tight I had planned these three trips. Four days between the first and second trip and only one day between the second and third. It took us three full days just to mow both properties. How was I possibly going to pull this off?

I prayed about it for a while and talked with Mr. FixIt again and two of my trusted friends and they all said…set some priorities…get some rest…it’s ok to say no. I hated the idea of cancelling the Indiana trip. I hate missing my niece’s graduation and getting to see her family. And, I hate disappointing anyone. But, you know what? I’m not thirty-five anymore. I’m not fifty-five anymore. I’m nearly sixty-six and while, in many ways that is still young, I have to admit to myself I can’t do it all. I get tired easier. I get overwhelmed easier. I’ve noticed this since losing Mr. Virgo.

So, I wrote a long note and sent it to my niece and her mom. I explained why we couldn’t come and while they will miss us, they understand. I immediately felt a weight lift off my shoulders and I cried with relief. It’s ok to cry “Uncle!” I turned on the air conditioning, crawled under a blanket, and rested…for the first time in weeks, it seems.

❤️

““Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”” Matthew 11:28-30 NIV

I Choose Joy!

Tue, 30 Apr 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“I’m choosing joy by choosing to remember the special moments we spent at the seashore last week.”

Even though Pastor Justin’s message Sunday morning was about choosing joy, I just had one of my “bad nights”. Yesterday’s post indicated I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I did. Re-entry from vacation was part of it. Being overly tired was another. And, after being gone a week, there was a lot of catching up to do and we just heard one bad thing after another all day. It just hit me hard. Combine that with eating a greasy burger too late in the evening and I was up half the night.

I tried all my go-to remedies and nothing seemed to help. I was up pacing the floor. I tried snuggling with Mr. FixIt and that helped, but I was too hot. Finally, I took a Benadryl because I had been out mowing all afternoon and my head was throbbing. I settled into the guest room, opened the window to let the cool night air in, and read my Bible till I got drowsy. When I finally slept, it was sound and deep and restful…just what I asked God for in my nightly prayers. He is a good Father…His lullaby is perfect.

I hit the ground running yesterday and went for the MRI of my foot. I’ve had several MRI’s in my lifetime. I couldn’t believe it took a whole hour! It was an open MRI and, of course, the only thing in it was my foot. But the noises were the same. The technician turned up the music really loud and I listened to the country station for an hour. The only hard part was boredom thinking of all the things I could have been doing. Laying still on my back for an hour on a hard table wasn’t too much fun. I just used the time to have a conversation with God.

I needed to have fasting blood drawn from an appointment a couple of weeks ago and I kept forgetting to go in so I did that. Then I stopped at the mall and bought yet another dress for the wedding. I can’t seem to make up my mind but this one I really liked and it was 50% off. I can wear it to my niece’s college graduation this weekend and see how I like it. I even found some cute little sandals that were also half price. I’m not buying any more dresses!

My last stop was Walmart for new sheets for the camper. I’m not one for keeping a lot of old sheets around. I buy two pair and rotate them till they’re worn out. I’ll bet I could count on two hands how many sets of sheets I’ve had in my life. Funny thing…they are exactly the same pattern as the sheets I bought for the big camper five years ago. I would have used those, but they were full size and the new camper ya s a queen bed. I also picked up a couple of throw rugs and a new shower curtain. Everything else will get moved from the old camper to the new one.

Before we leave, I need to treat the fresh water tank with a mild bleach solution and run it through the pipes. Then I need to put some Dawn dish soap, Calgon Water Softener, more water, and a bag of ice in the black tank and take the camper for a drive to let it all slosh around in the tank and dislodge anything gunking up the works. I will drive up to a rest area up north and empty the tanks and get them all ready for Thursday. Once I get back home, I’ll make the beds and wipe down the surfaces. I’ll wipe out the fridge and the cabinets and wash the floors. Once the bathroom is cleaned, I can put down the new rugs. I’ll pack it up and we’ll be ready to go!

So…today I choose joy. Even in the busy rush of life and travel preparation. Just breathe. Just breathe.

❤️

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.” Psalm 94:19 NIV

Goodbye...For Now

Sat, 27 Apr 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“Best Friends”

Goodbyes are so hard…especially since losing Mr. Virgo. My world perspective has forever changed and grief has colored every thought since that fateful day. I am so aware of how tenuous life is and how strong the bonds between us and those we hold most dear.

Today we have to say so long to our dearest family/friends as they head back home to Colorado and we head back home to the Ponderosa. We have had such a delightful week. The weather seriously couldn’t have been more perfect. Our first morning here dawned sunny and gorgeous and remained the same the entire week until a band of severe thunder storms came through last evening. It rained hard into the night and brought cooler temperatures but today is supposed to be sunny with a high around 70 so it will be perfect traveling weather.

While grief and death are not in the forefront of my thoughts anymore, there are certain things that have changed because of my loss. Now, when I see a scene, I see it through the eyes of a widow and know the scenes I wish I had pictures of. As we watched the sunset in a quiet cove along the sound in the Cape Hatteras National Seashore the other night, I looked back. I noticed Ben & Sue turn to take in the last of the golden light as the sun dipped below the horizon over the glassy surface of the water. I smiled as Sue reached for Ben’s hand and I reached for my cell phone to snap this picture. I added the location and date and sent it to her.

We do not know when our time will come, but we do know statistically that women outlive their husbands. When Mr. Virgo died, I really had fewer photos of him than I thought. I wanted to make sure Ben & Sue had all the special events of the week recorded for posterity.

As we drove down to the beach last weekend, I kept thinking…”It’ll be over in an instant and we’ll be driving back home.” And, here we are. But…oh, my. We made some beautiful memories together this week and I will cherish this time together for the rest of my life.

❤️

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

Good Friday

Fri, 19 Apr 2019 01:30:21 -0600

“My grandma’s pretty posies…I love to visit them.”

I ran to the farm yesterday to pick up my laundry I left hanging to dry. I took a quick walkabout to see Grandma’s posies. She loved them so much and I always feel so close to her when I see them.

Grandma loved Easter time. Her flowers were beautiful and she almost always had all of her family together to go to church. I feel terrible that I won’t be attending church with the kids this weekend, but there is a church right across the road from the condo so we will still get to go to an Easter service.

The bags are packed. Going to the time share is much like camping…we take extra linens and pots and pans because the one’s there are somewhat lacking in substance. We also bring some dry goods with us because groceries down there are so expensive. So, the truck will be packed first thing in the morning and we’ll hit the road no later than 9:00.

Small group last night was wonderful. I talked to the girls about Passover and the rituals around the Seder meal. I brought some traditional foods for them to taste. They weren’t crazy about the gefilte fish!

Kathy spoke about Easter. She told how Jesus washed the feet of the Disciples. Then, she prepared a basin and pitcher of warm water and washed all of our feet. It was a humbling experience. When she was done, I stepped forward and invited her to sit so that I could wash hers. I followed her example and told her the beautiful attributes Jesus sees when He looks at her. I thanked her for being such a shining example of a humble servant for all of us to see. And I told her how much I dearly love her.

What a wonderful way to start out our week!

❤️

“It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean. When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” John 13:1-17 NIV

A Good Tired

Wed, 17 Apr 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“Spring flowers make my heart sing!”

Now that the taxes are done, submitted, and accepted, our attention can turn to other things….mainly, mowing. With the rains we received over the weekend, the grass growth was remarkable and it couldn’t be put off another day. We had a neighbor brush hog the far field last fall when we were preparing for the wedding. That field is really rough and needs to be mowed really regularly or we’ll have to resort to the brush hog again. I got about half the field mowed at the Ponderosa then we had to head for the farm. Mr. FixIt mowed while I hauled dropped limbs and did laundry. It was 7:30 by the time we were done and ready to head back home.

This is the kind of tired that feels good. When you do a good solid day’s work and you have something to show for it. When your muscles are sore and you’re hungry and you know you’re going to sleep soundly…that’s a good day’s work. We still have much to do to prepare for our trip but once we are there…it’s beach time, baby. I can’t wait to see Ben & Sue…my son-in-law’s parents. They are joining us for the week and it’s going to be SO much fun. They are the dearest people and we can’t wait to show them all around the Outer Banks!

I do have a favor of you. I have an appointment with the orthopedist today for this pain I have in my foot. I think it’s a Morton’s Neuroma and if so, I will likely need a shot in the ball of my foot, which…as you can well imagine…I am not looking forward to. I am preparing myself with lots of prayers and meditation. Please add me to your prayer list that everything goes smoothly, the pain is little to nonexistent, and that whatever they do, it takes care of the pain and I can get back to exercising regularly! Thank you in advance!!!

I’ll let you know how it went!

❤️

“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. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 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 29:11-14 NIV

Evidence of Healing

Tue, 16 Apr 2019 01:30:00 -0600

“A memory from a time long ago and far away…”

I know April is a hectic time of year what with my daughter’s birthday and taxes being due. I was also quite busy this spring writing and editing my book. And, our annual trip to the Outer Banks is this weekend so my mind was preoccupied. As I sat down at the computer yesterday to write my post, I was confronted with one of those Facebook memories complete with scads of photos….of Mr. Virgo’s and my Honeymoon.

I couldn’t believe it. It was on the 7th and it never once crossed my mind. I remember one year I almost forgot. It was probably four years after his death and I felt so terribly guilty because I nearly went the whole day without thinking about it. This time, it was a whole week PAST the anniversary and I may not have remembered at all if I hadn’t seen the photos. But, I didn’t feel guilty. I actually felt somewhat relieved.

There was a point in my grief when I thought I never would feel even somewhat normal again. I didn’t believe I would ever feel joy or freedom and certainly not romantic love again. Yet, here I am. On the other side. I’ve no doubt I still have my moments. NOT remembering seems monumental in some way.

Not focusing on or remembering an important anniversary doesn’t mean I have forgotten Mr. Virgo…or anything about him. It just means time has passed and I am healing. I’ve moved….forward. I wish I could have had some serious reassurance four or five years ago that so much healing could occur in what is a relatively short time in grief years.

This time fourteen years ago, we were driving up the west coast on Highway 1. I wanted to stand on the beach with my husband. Fourteen years later, I’m packing to leave for a trip to the east coast so that I can stand on the beach with my husband.

Ironic.

The whole thing makes me smile. It makes my heart soften. It makes me ever so grateful to have known…and to now know…such great love.

❤️

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine.” Song of Songs 1:2 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

Always be Humble and Kind

Sat, 13 Apr 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“I love when God sends me a not-so-gentle reminder to chill out!”

As I’m writing this, I’m propped up in bed, the windows flung wide, the peepers peeping their springtime love song. It is 10:30pm…I just finished a long and particularly grueling day sitting in front of my computer, doing my taxes. One frustration after another…but I doggedly pressed on with only a couple of short tempered outbursts. Finally…finally I got it all filled out and pressed “send” only to find out, yet again, my laptop won’t connect to the internet. I mean…it SAYS it’s connected, but I get a page that says “Cannot find page. Check your internet connection.” It works elsewhere, just not here. So, I said enough is enough for one day and I will pick it up tomorrow….today to you.

In preparation for a day that could be stress-filled, I spent an extra long time in scripture before I got out of bed. I read my devotionals. I listened to a little praise music. I put on the full armor of God. And still, after twelve hours in front of the screen, I found my stress level rising. Poor Mr. FixIt steered clear of me most of the day and when he did have to sit with me, he was very loving and supportive. Good man.

When I finally called it quits for the day, I was too tired to even go out to TOW-Wanda to write…something I really look forward to when the weather is warm. I came into the bedroom to write, fully prepared to let loose a diatribe about how darned frustrating it is to spend a whole day on the taxes only to find out you have to pay a BOATLOAD. I climbed into bed, set up my little lap desk, opened my iPad, and God smacked me right between the eyes.

There, staring back at me was a picture of a woman squatting down in front of an absolutely emaciated young child…so tiny and frail and nothing but skin and bones. She’s holding a water bottle up to the child’s lips….the little one with her head tipped back, gratefully taking a sip as she clings to a crust of bread in her tiny hand.

I am humbled…ashamed of my anger and frustration that I felt only seconds before.

Look what I have. A roof over my head, food on my table, clean water and air, a warm bed to sleep in, health, family…God.

Yes, paying a big tax bill was not what I expected. But you know what? Just two weeks ago, God gave me a hefty settlement check for the accident I was in two years ago. I had a brain bleed, but can walk and talk. I lost four months of my memory, but my family didn’t have to lay me in the ground. And that check will cover my taxes and then some.

There is always something to be grateful for. ALWAYS.

Thank you, God…for your provision. And for the stern reminder of how good I have it. You are a good, good Father.

❤️

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Ephesians 4:2 NIV

Memory Recall

Thu, 11 Apr 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Photos of childhood memories can bridge the miles between you and your children.”

Sometimes it’s hard to reach my kids, both literally and figuratively. They have busy lives. Jobs, families, houses…they don’t have a lot of time to visit with their mom. I get that. I was in their shoes. So, instead of whining about it and pulling more than a nominal guilt trip, I have taken to sending them pictures of things I find on Pinterest. Not just any old thing. Things that will stir a memory of their childhoods and make them smile whether they have time to talk or not.

One such photo was this one. It is identical to the kitchen we lived in when she was little and her daddy was in medical school. She remembered the sink, she said. But I know, if she remembered the sink, she thought of all the times I canned our food and baked our bread. She might have thought of the times we set up the tent in the backyard so she could have a sleepover. I’m sure she thought of the slumber party I let her have in the Vanagon camper with the pop top. We were still finding peanut M&M’s months later. Maybe she thought of the Christmas Eve Blizzard when we spent the day pushing people out of the ditch in front of the house. Or the time she rode her bike on the church parking lot down the street and almost put her eye out on a tree branch.

I miss being close to my kids. Maybe by this time, if I hadn’t have found Mr. FixIt, I might have been back there…or at least spend more time in Colorado. But, just as my girls have lives…so do I. I just have to make the most of the time I do have with them when I am there.

I spent yesterday at the farm again. I made great progress on the paperwork I’m doing. Tomorrow I can wrap it up and we can do our taxes and be done with it. I promise myself every year that I wont procrastinate next year…and here we are. Down to the wire yet again. Maybe next year!

❤️

“But everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way.” 1 Corinthians 14:40 NIV

Bad Night - Great Day

Wed, 10 Apr 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Resist the devil and he will flee.”

I remember back in the first two to three years of my grief, I often had what I referred to as “bad nights”. Nights were especially difficult from the beginning. Too many hours stretched ahead with too much time to think…especially since I had such a hard time sleeping. It didn’t take much to send my mind chasing rabbits and soon a thought would have me in a tailspin. I spent SO many nights alternating between gripping the mattress and throwing up. All. Night. Long. It was brutal.

Thankfully, that finally evened out. Partially from time and healing, but mostly because I got a grip on my anxiety once I learned it’s source. Some may call it a trick of the mind, but I have been much more successful in not only controlling my anxiety, but sending it packing altogether. Prayer and petition to God to come in and bring me comfort helps tremendously. One thing has really helped me and the old me would have rolled my eyes with a “Right…sure…ok.”

That one thing is banishing Satan. The enemy comes to rob, steal, and destroy. He is the force behind the thoughts “You can’t handle anything.” “You will always have anxiety.” “I’ll make sure you are miserable all the days of your life…this will never get better.” When I feel anxiety creeping in, I talk out loud now. I just tell the old goat to get the heck away from me because I don’t believe his stinking lies.

The second thing I do is listen to praise music. I have discovered if I’m having anxiety and I start playing praise music and singing along, the anxiety dissipates. I cannot be anxious and upset while praising Jesus.

And…I’m human. Sometimes I forget to do those things and I get caught with my guard down. That’s what happened on Monday when we drove by my dad’s house and saw it had been torn down. I immediately felt sick and I let things spiral. I felt horrible and out of control. I could hardly eat a thing and that night, after writing my post, I tried eating a bowl of cereal and immediately got sick.

I did excuse myself to the guest bedroom so as not to interrupt Mr. FixIt’s sleep. I took something to settle my stomach and I read the Bible and listened to praise music. And I asked God to send his angels to wrap their wings around me and keep me safe. I immediately fell into a deep sleep and awoke refreshed and feeling much better.

I knew I needed to spend some time at the farm, though. The Farm is my touchstone. I drove out and sorted through my papers to prepare the taxes. I drank coffee and walked around the yard looking at Grandma’s posies. Once the paperwork was sorted, I took a little snooze in Grandma’s bed and finally headed back to The Ponderosa.

Mr. FixIt did yard work all day. The field looked like a well manicured golf course. He wanted to show me some things so we walked the entire five acres, hand-in-hand, marveling at the spring beauty. We inched through a rose bramble to look for arrowheads on the creek-bank. We moved an old fallen tree. We found violets in the grass and looked for frogs in the ditch along the road.

Last night, just before bed, we went out back in our robes and slippers and held hands while we counted stars. The “bad night” of the night before wasn’t even in my memory. It had been banished with a stern warning…spoken aloud…”Get away from me Satan…you have no dominion over me!” He isn’t as powerful as he would like you to think he is. He can’t read our thoughts so we must speak aloud to him.

Every time I get closer to Jesus…every time I raise my hand in church and further commit my heart to Christ…the enemy swings hard. He does this for the precise reason…he knows I’m a threat. He knows who lives in my heart…who is my true north. And he hates that. That’s ok. I can do hard things. I can have a “bad night” if it means I get so much greatness on the other side.

❤️

“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” James 4:7 NIV

TOW-Wanda III: Day 1 - Cleanup

Sun, 07 Apr 2019 01:30:52 -0600

“The first thing that had to go was the bunk bed over the main bed.”

The first thing I did yesterday…after coffee, of course…was head out to the new camper. I could hardly sleep the night before, I was so excited. I didn’t realize how very much I missed my first camper till I got a load of this one! I hooked it up to electric and checked out the systems again. The air conditioning worked fine. I cleaned the filter screen in the AC unit so it works more efficiently. The fan, lights, and microwave. I haven’t checked the refrigerator yet.

Mr. FixIt was kind enough to bring a ladder and some RV cleaning products out to the camper for me as well as a hose and scrub brush. I started scrubbing with an RV wash/wax combo and followed up with a Norwex cleaning cloth and Norwex cleaning paste to get the black streaks off. I rinsed it well and checked inside…NO LEAKS! Yesssss! No leaks is a good thing…especially with a 2007 camper. This thing is built exceedingly well.

The camper is a Cikira Classic Cruiser 18FB…which roughly translates to an 18 foot camper with a front bed. From what I can find, Cikira RV wasn’t around for very long, but I don’t think that was because they lacked a quality product. If this camper is any indication, the quality is excellent. The RV industry isn’t easy to break into. But more importantly, look at the date of my camper. The economy in 2007 was booming and people were traveling a lot. Then 2008 came and the bottom fell out of the market. No one was spending money on anything extra. I know…that’s when I had to close my needlework shop. Hobbies like camping and needlework are the first to go when it comes to extraneous expenses.

Once I had the outside walls scrubbed down, I opened the awning and gave it a good wash. I left it open to dry in our beautiful 72 degree weather and closed it up before dusk so it wouldn’t gather the dew. Then it was time to head indoors. The first thing that had to go was the bunk bed overtop the main bed. The previous owners had a 10 year old daughter who loved the bunk above, but it was too confining to lay underneath it and I knew I would hit my head every time is sat down. The bunk was secured with sturdy angle iron and the plywood base was screwed securely to it. I removed the twin size memory foam mattress and Mr. FixIt helped me carry it down to the storage room. We can use it for an extra if we have overflow company.

The front piece of the bunk bed was a long piece of heavy angle iron attached to a decorative wood front. I removed that piece but left the other three pieces of angle iron connected to the three walls above the windows. This way, if we ever need the bunk bed again, we can pop it back in easily enough. Taking that bunk out opened up the entire bed area and made it much more comfortable, roomy, and light. By this time I was fried so I gave in and snuggled up on my new bed and took a nap.

So, our blessings continue. Our great granddaughter is being dedicated to Jesus in church this morning! My heart is so happy!

❤️

“And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”
Mark 10:16 NIV

What a CRAZY Week!

Sat, 06 Apr 2019 01:30:47 -0600

“The perfect little camper!”

When I started out this week, I never dreamed I’d be the owner of SIX campers by the weekend!!! What??? Yes, that’s right…S-I-X campers! Ok, when Mr. FixIt and I started dating, he had two campers (a hybrid and a 27 foot Jayco) and I had one (a 30’ Starcraft). Then, by fall I bought our fourth camper…a 1967 Franklin I named “Joy”. She is still out at the farm and I need to get her over to the Ponderosa so I can work on her some more.

I picked up the little camper yesterday and I’m telling you…she’s a little cream puff. She is immaculate inside with a Sealy memory foam mattress. (Color me happy!) Mr. FixIt went with me to check her out carefully and he agreed I got a good deal on a great little camper. Hooking her up was easy peasy. We stopped at the first gas station and checked the air pressure. This is especially important every single time you tow. Remember the blowout I had coming home from Blackwater Falls a few years ago? It was caused by undetected low tire pressure. I learned a valuable and expensive lesson that day. All four tires were low. This happens when a camper sits for a while. We pumped them all up and headed for home.

The second test would be to see how well Frieda pulled this camper. I was sure she would do well, but this is an 18’ camper. I’ve seen different weights. An online spec sheet says 3740 and the tag on the trailer says 4200. There are some steep hills on the drive home so I watched carefully. Frieda towed that trailer like a boss and the transmission temp didn’t get up over 197 degrees which is perfect. When we got home, I felt the hubs and they were barely warm to the touch so that is wonderful.

I pulled the camper around to the side of the house where the water connector is. The exterior surface is fairly dirty and dull. I wanted to see how it would clean up. I used my Norwex cloth and cleaning paste on a two-foot square section and it looked brand new when I was done. When it started getting dark, I went in the camper and stretched out on the yummy mattress. It’s wonderful! I opened the rock guard from the front window and it is exactly like my first camper…a Sportsmen Classic by K-Z RV.

I loved my first camper and I’ve got to tell you…I love this one more. If my first camper would have had a dinette with a separate bed, I never would have gotten rid of it. This one has exactly what I’ve always wanted and I’m thrilled!

Now, a friend has a 30’ camper that she is giving me and we are going Monday to bring her home….making SIX campers. Mr. FixIt has one for sale now and TOW-Wanda Grande will be on the market as soon as I get her emptied and cleaned up.

“Hi, my name is Ginny…and I have a camper addiction.”

This was absolutely, without a doubt, a prayer answered. This camper is more economical, practical, safer to tow….Thank You, God!

Oh, an update on the bathroom. We managed to go another day without killing each other. However, we did end up having to cut a big chunk out of the drywall to get the bottom piece of the shower stall inserted. AND…there was yet ANOTHER trip to Lowes. Mr. FixIt’s measuring is impeccable. I am not kidding…that opening isn’t 1/16th of an inch bigger than the shower base. I am in the presence of engineering greatness…seriously!

❤️

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”
Proverbs 16:9 NIV

Renovations

Thu, 04 Apr 2019 01:30:42 -0600

“There’s something about vintage kitchens that speaks to my heart.”

I came across this picture on Pinterest the other day. I don’t…CAN’T…spend as much time on Pinterest as I would like to. I have too many irons in the fire right now and I know what a black hole Pinterest is. It’s a candy store for creatives and I get SO lost. I pop in there every day because I get notifications. Almost always, there’s something on my landing page that I might pin if it’s an idea I’m working on, thinking maybe there WILL be a time when I can be a bit more leisurely. I look at my notifications, then I’m out of there…1-2 minutes, tops.

The reason this particular picture grabbed my attention was a memory. Hubby #2 and I moved into our first house a couple of blocks from the medical school and this cabinet, and one just like it on the opposite wall, was in our kitchen. It formed a walkway into the breakfast nook where you sat in front of a big picture window.

The view out the window was unremarkable, but that kitchen was one of the coolest in any house I’ve ever lived in. It was big and roomy with tons of storage space. It had a window over the kitchen sink which is always a must have for me. To this day, I cannot remember if the countertops were red or green…but I definitely remember that vintage style. It spoke to me…even as a young woman.

You don’t find vintage kitchens like this much anymore. We are a throw away society with a newer is better attitude. The young wives of the ‘80s wanted new and better and hopefully not avocado green or harvest gold or that hideous brown copper toned color. No offense…if that’s what you have or what you love, but it was an affront to my sensibilities then and it remains so today. There is NOTHING nostalgic about that for me.

Speaking of renovations, we are still in the throes of redoing master bath at the Ponderosa. I have never been married to a man that could fix or build anything. Seriously, if anything got built or renovated or decorated, it was my doing. I’m the one with the power tools. Well, I was. They all were stolen when someone broke into my storage unit and broke my heart. Mr. FixIt knows how to do everything. He didn’t get his name for nuthin’.

Here’s the thing. When I fixed up my mom’s house to put it on the market, I did the entire house myself except for installing the kitchen cabinets, connecting the gas for the new range, and updating the electrical service to the house. I tore the kitchen out to the walls and did it all…set the sink, installed a garbage disposal, new GFI outlets, plumbing, laminate flooring, under cabinet lighting, tiled the backsplash and entryway, coped the baseboards and quarter-round molding. I also refinished the hardwood floors, switched out all the ceiling light fixtures, put in a new doorbell and doors and storm doors, painted the entire inside, changed out the bathroom fixtures, tore the entire floor out and installed a subfloor, underpayment and linoleum, new baseboards and quarter round, a new toilet, took out the old medicine cabinet and installed a new mirror and lights and tiled the backsplash.

In other words…I know my way around a renovation project.

The thing is…I probably didn’t know enough to be intimidated. I just did it. And if I didn’t know how to do something or what tool I needed to do it with, I just consulted the knowledgeable staff at Lowes or read one of my helpful how-to books. I wasn’t picky. If it looked good, that was my bottom line. I thought it turned out great. Anyone who saw it thought it turned out great. And…I did the whole thing in about 4 months…by myself, for the most part.

Then I married “The Man With The Engineer’s Brain”.

Have you ever asked a man with an engineer’s brain to do something? They will do it. Perfectly. Absolutely perfectly. They will spend an inordinate amount of time drawing up plans…perhaps even doing so on a CAD program on the computer than costs more than the budget of small countries. They will print out the plans and study them and make notes. Then they will go back in and edit said plans. Then…once they are satisfied with the design, they will start the shopping process. The frugal engineer will have his/her supplies mapped out and listed by store according to price. This you will buy here. That you will buy there. All in good time.

Finally, the work begins. There will be measuring sessions. That will last a totally unpredictable amount of time. More notes will be taken and perhaps the CAD plans will be altered and reprinted. The flooring alone took several weeks. In a bathroom half the size of a good walk-in closet. Then there came the drywall. The patching. The sanding. The next coat of patching material. The second sanding. The third coat of patching material and the necessary sanding. Then came the painting. First the ceiling. Two coats. Then the walls. At least two coats.

I came in to see how it was going after the second coat of paint dried and Mr. FixIt was sanding…again.

“What on earth are you doing???”

“I didn’t like the way that looked. I don’t like satin paint. You can never get it to look good. I’m fixing this spot.”

“Cool. I’m going back out to the camper write now. Love you!”

Now we are at the point where we are installing the shower. He measured and calculated and remeasured and recalculated many times and finally…finally…we went to buy the fiberglass shower stall on Monday. That thing weighed a ton. We had to take it apart in order to get it in the house. Once inside, we took the protective coverings off and it was not only scratched, but it had several cracks in the fiberglass surface. So, we had to cart it back outside, put it all back together, and take it back to the store to exchange it. Once home, we had to take it apart again to get it in the house. Thank GOD it didn’t have any cracks because I just might have said a few choice words.

I could have had this bathroom done in two…three weeks tops. But I can guarantee you, it would not look nearly as perfect as the bathroom Mr. FixIt is building. I’m more of an instant gratification kind of gal so this has been a real learning opportunity for me in patience and appreciation. It’s coming along though. It’s definitely coming along.

❤️

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”
Romans 12:12 NIV

Sick & Tired

Tue, 02 Apr 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“Can’t we all just get along?”

Those of you who have been reading my blog for some time know that, even in my grief, I’m a pretty upbeat individual. Mr. Virgo used to call me Pollyanna because I always look on the sunny side of life. I objected saying there’s nothing wrong with looking for the light, even in the darkest situations…as long as you don’t stick your head in the sand. I think I keep a weather eye out for the realities of the world while still trying to look on the bright side.

I’ve gotta tell ya…and this is in NO WAY a political post…but, I’m just sick and tired of hearing all the ugliness these days. I keep looking for the God-spark in everyone and dang if it isn’t disheartening sometimes. I read something yesterday that punched me in the gut. Teachers can no longer teach kids the way we were taught. Because, the world we were raised for no longer exists. We didn’t have a TV till I was in school. Countries on the other side of the world were nothing but stories in the encyclopedia. We didn’t have indoor plumbing at my grandma’s house till I was in first grade. We went from that to landing a man on the moon by the time I was in high school. To think the computer onboard an Apollo spacecraft was far, far less sophisticated than a Blackberry…and they are archaic in the grand scheme of things.

Between the Information Age, readily accessible electronics, and Joe Public’s thirst for all things that would have been cringeworthy a decade or two ago, we are bombarded with violence. When I grew up, coverage of the Vietnam War and shoot-em-up Westerns were about as violent and graphic as anything you would likely witness unless you saw a terrible accident. You can’t put smoke back in a bottle. Once you see this stuff, it’s in your brain…and in your heart.

Mr. FixIt and I had to run to town yesterday to get the shower insert for the new bathroom. As I was gathering my things to leave, he asked me to watch a story from CBS Sunday Morning. It was about Sandy and Lonnie Phillips. Their daughter was one of the victims in the 2012 mass shooting in the movie theater in Aurora, CO. She was with a friend who was an EMS. He was shot twice and he did everything he could to save her, but he couldn’t.

As I watched this story, my heart broke for all of them. I know grief. But I know nothing of the grief that comes with violence. Instead of climbing into the never ending hole of horror, they chose to help other victims of mass shootings. They’ve rented their house out, quit their jobs, sold everything they owned, and travel from place to place pulling a travel trailer….following the shootings. They started in Newtown, then went to Isla Vista, San Bernardino, Orlando, Las Vegas, Sutherland Springs, Parkland, Santa Fe, Pittsburg and Thousand Oaks. The equivalent of a soldier with PTSD running into firefight after firefight after bloody firefight with no end in sight.

It brings them no joy. They still cry every day out of sadness and pain and it’s been seven years since their daughter was murdered. But they do find satisfaction in helping others who are coming up the same path behind them. They are able to hang onto each other and offer comfort to others while being bombarded by conspiracy theorists who verbally threaten and harass them. Their super power is compassion.

My soul is tired. My brain is bruised. My heart is weary. “I can do hard things.” But…in reality, can I? Could I do what the Phillips’ are doing? Could I survive such horrors? I think I couldn’t, but I know God could. I know I had to rely on Him to carry me through Mr. Virgo’s death so I have no reason to believe He won’t carry me through everything that comes to me in this life.

I’m just so tired of all the anger, hatred, ugliness, violence, pain, depravity. I cling to the joy and hope I find in my faith. I pray for this world. I pray for wisdom. I pray for peace. I pray for strength to get through a time that numbs me. I don’t want to be numb. I want to always, always, always look for the light. Find the good. Encourage the downtrodden. Shine a light in the darkness. See, here’s the thing…there are a lot more good people on this earth than the media will lead you to believe.

Look for the light. Look for the helpers. Yes, I get weary…I just can’t quit.

So, I press on. I go outside and put my bare feet on the earth to ground myself. I feel the wind on my face. I close my eyes and turn my face to the sun. I hug people…a lot. It’s the best gift I can give them because I can’t help but get a hug in return.

If all of these things bother you, too…turn off the TV. Put down the newspaper. Go outside. Nature heals.

❤️

“Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. For, “Whoever would love life and see good days must keep their tongue from evil and their lips from deceitful speech. They must turn from evil and do good; they must seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer, but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.”” 1 Peter 3:9-12 NIV

Vibrant Women

Mon, 01 Apr 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“Vibrant Women…a women’s ministry.”

Something phenomenal happened Friday night and it has taken me this long to process it. Actually, I’m sure I’ll be processing it for some time to come. We have a husband-wife team leading our church. It has been wonderful to watch Pastor Heather growing into a strong leader for the women of our region. A little over three years ago, God planted a seed in her to lead a Women’s Ministry. She gathered her friends together, told them her ideas for this movement, and asked them to start feeding her possible names. When she heard “Vibrant Women”, she was moved. Vigorous. Energetic. Lively. Vital. All words that resonated with where she wanted to go with this movement….words that described women of strong faith.

This was the third Vibrant Women event held at our church…the second I have attended. It’s come a long way since the beginning. I think there might have been two-hundred women at the first one. Friday night saw almost SEVEN HUNDRED women packed into our church. There wasn’t a seat in the house. The sound booth said at one point the decibel scale peaked out at the same level as a jet engine. It was crazy fun. The energy level in that room was amazing.

We had a guest pastor…Pastor April Carter of the Together Church in Yakima, Washington. Pastor April spoke about Living Beyond Fear. Oh….she touched every single one of us. At the end of her message, she told a personal story. Someone who works in her church called her…panic stricken. Then he arrived home, his house was surrounded by police, fire, and ambulance crews. They would not let him in the house. The only thing he knew was, something happened that involved his son. Pastor April and Pastor Micahn headed to the hospital to meet them.

As they sat there, waiting for word of what was going on, she absentmindedly fingered a necklace she was wearing that a friend gave her. It is engraved…”I Can Do Hard Things”. The time dragged slowly by. They prayed together. They held each other up. And, finally…the doctor came out. Their friends’ son had gotten his hands on a gun and somehow accidentally shot himself. And they could not save him. Pastor April closed her eyes and repeated to herself…

“I can do hard things. I can do hard things. I can do hard things.”

Since Mr. Virgo died, I haven’t been so good in medical emergencies. There have been times I haven’t been able to show up for people who need me to do hard things. Pastor April challenged us to put on our boxing gloves and get in the ring of life and fight. Listening to her, I felt empowered. I felt stronger. I felt like trying harder and being the best version of myself I can be. I mean, isn’t that what faith does for us?

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Even the hard things.

We were doubly blessed in that Pastor April delivered our message at church yesterday too so we got to hear her twice this weekend. I googled her name on YouTube last night and there was a message called “Hard Reset”. You should give it a listen if you are interested. She is very good.

❤️

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:13 NIV

Getting Healthy

Sat, 30 Mar 2019 01:30:01 -0600

“It’s time to get healthy with AdvoCare’s 24 Day Challenge!”

I went to the doctor last week for bronchitis and had to do that thing I’ve dreaded the most…I had to step on a scale! I haven’t weighed myself in ages…mostly because I just find it so demoralizing. I am past the caring what others think of me thing. However, I do still care what I think of myself. I don’t feel healthy when I weigh this much. My feet hurt. My bladder leaks. My acid reflux is abysmal. The whole thing makes me pretty darned cranky.

Unfortunately, I’ve had to take steroids twice in the last six months and that wreaks havoc on my weight. However, I can’t just blame this weight gain on medications. Writing this book kept me sequestered in my camper for the last two months. And when I write, I nibble and nosh without thinking much about it. Winter brings the blahs and comfort food gets me in trouble in a hurry.

It’s time to do something about it. I did check into a weight loss program that a friend of mine is one. She has had a dramatic weight loss and looks wonderful, but her program is $400 a month and that is unreasonable for someone on a fixed income. I have decided to do what worked for me last time and just ordered the Advocare 24 Day Challenge. It’s time. It’s not too terribly expensive and if you work it, it really gives me that jump start I need to get me going. If any of you are interested in doing it with me, you can send me a private message and I can send you the link to purchase what you need. If you followed along with me three years ago, you saw what a difference it made.

It’s a new season. I need to stay active and physically fit so I can maintain my fun girl camper lifestyle! I’m going to be 66 this summer…it’s time to really take serious control of my health!

❤️

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”
1 Corinthians 9:24-27 NIV

My Friends

Fri, 29 Mar 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“The little whitetail deer of West Virginia are so delicate and fine boned compared to the larger mule deer of Colorado.”

Thursday nights have been fun the last three weeks because I’ve spent the evening at the local pizza shop…munching on yummy pizza and people watching. Last night, my friend Charlotte came to have dinner with me and catch up. Charlotte and her husband, my second cousin Rick, are the couple that took my farm cats down to their barn to live. She says they are doing really well. As a matter of fact, four or five beautiful ducks showed up recently and have taken up residence with the cats and a plethora of roosters. A lot of times, people end up with more roosters than they need to get the job done and they end up down at Charlotte’s barn. She has quite a menagerie now. Next week, my small group meetings begin for our Spring session so I won’t be hanging out at the pizza joint for a while.

The other night, I came out to the camper with Mr. FixIt’s headlamp on my head. As I was unlocking the door, something caught my attention and I turned to my left. The light swept across the big field and it looked like the lions of the Serengeti out there. Nothing but eyes shining back at me from just above the grass level. There must have been a dozen deer bedded down out there and at first, it was downright spooky till I figured out what they were.

We don’t have any new babies yet. It won’t be long before we see little spotted fawns gamboling about in the fields of The Ponderosa. Once in a while, we sleep out in the camper now that the weather is getting warmer. When Mr. FixIt joined me the other evening, a huge possum was standing just outside the camper and about scared the stink out of him. The furnace was running and I had the music on so I didn’t hear him yelling.

I haven’t smelled any skunks out yet. The birds are starting to nest in the eaves. We have had a problem with swallows nesting in the chimney so we need to get it covered before too long or they’ll be back. I noticed the mockingbird was back this week. It sits on the old TV antenna above our bedroom window, its distinctive call sounding like a multitude of birds. I’m waiting to hear the whip-poor-wills and the owls.

Tonight is the women’s conference at my church and I’m really looking forward to going with my bonus girls. Afterward, I’m headed to the Girl Camper weekend and the Camper College near Huntington. A fun girl’s weekend!

Mr. FixIt is making great progress on the master bath now and the flooring is about to go down. He did a wonderful job on the drywall. That is something I never did in all of my renovation projects. It’s hard to handle a full sheet of drywall by yourself. Fortunately, he only had to patch a few places. Hopefully we get this project done soon as there are many more in the lineup and the weather is getting nicer every day. We are about to head into our warmest week yet and it’s none too soon!

Happy Friday, everyone. I hope you are going to go out and enjoy this beautiful spring weather in your neck of the woods!

❤️

““But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.” Job 12:7-10 NIV

Cha-Ching!

Thu, 28 Mar 2019 01:30:21 -0600

“There’s an old saying…Watch your pennies and your dollars will watch themselves. I hate when I get caught paying more for something than I should have. I feel robbed!”

I’m really careful with my money these days. I wasn’t always. I hate to admit it, but I was a spoiled princess and I really didn’t pay much attention to how much things cost. If I wanted/needed something, I just bought it. I didn’t pay much mind to grades of quality other than to buy the best I could afford. I still adhere to that somewhat, because I firmly believe you usually get what you pay for. I am much more accommodating when it comes to sacrificing a little bit of quality for a good savings. I also hate to admit, I’m learning most of this from Mr. FixIt. He’s a frugal man and, while I have gotten him to spring for a little better quality sometimes, he has done a wonderful job in teaching me to pay attention to prices.

I went out yesterday to pay my property taxes and get my tags for my truck for another year. It really chaps my hide that I pay taxes on my earnings, then I pay taxes on what I buy, and ultimately I pay personal property taxes on those items I purchased just so I can own them. In West Virginia, in order to get your tags on your vehicle every year, you have to pay your personal property taxes. You pay on the vehicle you owned in June two years prior. I owned a 2011 Ford F-150 pickup truck and my 2015 camper. My taxes and tags were a little over $800.

Mr. FixIt and I were having dinner last night when I told him how much my tax bill was. He thought that was a little high so he went and got his. Now, he pays for two vehicles, two campers, and a utility trailer. Granted they are a little older than mine, but all five of his totaled less than what I paid, so I had to dig in and figure out why.

It turns out, I have been using my post office box as my address, even though I physically live in a different county. If I would have changed my address to Mr. FixIt’s house, my taxes would have been at least $250 less! It never even occurred to me there would be that much of a difference. And, now that it’s been paid, I can’t do anything about it. But, trust me, I’m changing my address ASAP. This is just another lesson for widows to check on these things. If Mr. FixIt would have been with me, he would have noticed the taxes seemed high and we could have investigated. And, if it weren’t for him, I never would have known about this.

The upside, if there is such a thing as an upside in spending $250 more than you needed to, some of that money went for a school bond in the little town I grew up in. So, I’ll just look at is as a non-tax-deductible contribution to the betterment of my old hometown. They’re on their own next year!

❤️

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.”
Proverbs 15:22 NIV

The Ponderosa

Wed, 27 Mar 2019 01:30:52 -0600

“The Ponderosa is the land I have dreamed of all my life.”

I’ve still been recuperating from this bronchitis/cold/virus/allergy thing. Kind of laying low, taking care of myself. To keep from re-infecting Mr. FixIt (he already had this last month), I’ve been spending a lot of time out in TOW-Wanda…resting, reading, writing, napping, cogitating. It has been very good for me to spend so much time in my little house on wheels. It certainly made winter go by MUCH quicker!

As I was writing this yesterday, I was stretched out in my “sun room”…the slide-out in my camper. It is actually the dinette, but it collapses down and makes a twin-sized bed and I actually have a mattress in there. I have piles of pillows and comfy blankets all around so it’s a nice little cocoon in which to snuggle and write and dream.

An e-mail came in while I was writing and it took me back probably ten years or so. It was from a site called Land Watch. Many years ago, I was trying to convince Mr. Virgo that it would be a very good idea to move back home to West Virginia. He humored me and looked at the farms and land I found. He half-heartedly searched for B&B’s for sale here and in the surrounding states. But, he came from Pennsylvania…he lived a long time in Florida…all with the goal of ultimately living in Colorado. His Nirvana. I think if push came to shove, he would have moved here for me…but he wouldn’t have been happy. God had different plans anyway because he took Mr. Virgo to His home before I could take him to mine.

As I looked at that e-mail and thought of all those times I dreamed of having a few acres in West Virginia, I looked out the windows of TOW-Wanda at the fields and far hills of the Ponderosa and smiled. I have what I have always dreamed of having. A faith-filled life. A wonderful family…biological and bonus. And land…a garden, grass, trees, flowers. TWO farms, actually. I’m doubly blessed. I had no idea ten years ago I would realize my lifelong dream but it wouldn’t look at all like I thought it would. It’s funny how life plays out.

I took the liberty of blurring out some identifying features in the photo above. There’s a neighbor up at the top there…I blurred out their home. And I blurred out the roads and route numbers that were on the map. But it gives you an excellent view of the Ponderosa. All that green there? That’s what we mow! This satellite image was taken at least two and a half years ago because the maple is still in the front yard. It fell in late 2016 or early 2017. You can see the curved drive where there are two campers parked. My TOW-Wanda sits where that blue dot is on the map.

Nature is getting ready to show off…things are getting green. The trees are starting to bud. The forsythia are blooming, as are the daffodils. They were stunted somewhat by the polar vortex, I think. They are much shorter than usual. We were walking through the yard on Monday and realized it won’t be long till we need to mow it. It will be at least a month before we get the pool ready. As I am writing this, the sun is shining. We are at our high for the day…51 degrees. We are going to our Alma Mater’s Girl’s Softball game this evening to watch one of the granddaughters play. It is a good life we live and I still have to pinch myself sometimes to believe I’m really here.

❤️

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters,” Psalm 23:2 NIV

Widowed or Single?

Tue, 26 Mar 2019 01:30:29 -0600

“Has the mental image of ‘widow’ changed all that much?

One of my friends shared a post with me yesterday. Ironically, it turns out I know the woman who wrote it. And, I know her well enough to understand what she meant by what she said about being called a widow. The writer, Jan, said she didn’t like the term “widow” because it conjures up this preconceived notion of “old” and “feeble”. As she says, we live in an era where ageism runs rampant. Our gray hair and social mores puts the widow in an unenviable position on more levels than grief alone.

Jan says she hates going into doctor’s offices and filling out the forms, having to select widowed or single. She has taken to saying she is “single-by-death” because, she DOES feel single. I’m all for changing the vernacular and the image of widows. Of course, the early throes of acute grief is a time where most of us feel old beyond our years, lost, destined to a life of lonely sadness. After that period of crisis, we do begin…in our own time…to heal and move forward. I don’t know any widow who wants to be looked down on and pitied. In this day and age, widows aren’t a bunch of doddering old ladies wearing black and sitting in the corner crying all the time.

I hated the term widow, too. I thoroughly resented it at first because I was very, very busy trying to pretend he didn’t die. Calling me a widow just turned a spotlight on my spectacular ruse and left me with nothing but shadow puppets of my former life. I sometimes rebelliously referred to myself as “single-by-chance” simply because I hated the word death as much as I hated the word widow. “Single-by-chance” could cover a lot of situations…death, divorce, break-ups. I liked it. But eventually, I just went with widow and tried to show what one looks like by pulling a huge camper across the country alone and dancing on the bar at Coyote Ugly and going into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months…alone.

In researching photos for this post, I Googled “widow”. There was a plethora of images of spiders and Scarlet Johansson in a black latex catsuit with the occasional Civil War era tintype of a haunted woman in black thrown in for good measure. This got me to thinking…if Google is any indication, maybe the world isn’t as obsessed with the word “widow” as widows themselves are. Widowhood and grief are lonely pursuits. We are singular. We are rather myopic. We have lost half of our whole. At least, we have for a while. Eventually, half reduces itself…bit by tiny little bit.

I was widowed…singled-by-chance…surely not by choice. Now that Mr. FixIt and I have married, when I relate my story in my work as a speaker and a writer, I say I was widowed. I suppose in the absolute vernacular, I am a widow. But that is a far smaller piece of who I am today than it used to be. I think that’s the way it should be…for me.

That’s the beauty of language and social norms. We can change things. We can change the words and the images of who we are in the world today. Who we are and how we want to be seen. What works for one may not work for another. Be who…or what…you are. Empirical evidence says…I am a Child of God…first and foremost. The rest is superfluous.

❤️

““Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.” Then all the people shall say, “Amen!””
Deuteronomy 27:19 NIV

Into the Woods

Mon, 25 Mar 2019 01:30:28 -0600

“A satellite view of The Farm….lots and lots of trees and hills.”

You have seen pictures of the farmhouse I’ve been caring for…the home of my heart. I’ve tried to describe what the 74 acres looks like. “Lots of trees and woods” is a bit of an understatement and it’s hard to picture if you are unfamiliar with the dense deciduous woods of West Virginia.

I went on Google Maps and took a satellite view of the farm. I wasn’t able to get all the land in one picture without making the house look so small you couldn’t see it. But, that little red dot in the lower left corner is the map pin on the house. And those dense woods you see there is maybe two-thirds of the farm itself. Inside those woods are trails and roads, creeks and rocky outcroppings. And somewhere off to the right about one-third up from the bottom is the strawberry shed where we sorted berries for the farmer’s market.

The ground gains elevation rapidly on both sides of the house and comes together in a “V” and on up the hills to the back of the farm. The little creek that comes down off those hills and runs right past the bedroom window roars when there’s been heavy rain. It crosses under the road through a two or three foot culvert and joins the bigger creek across the road. That flows on down to a larger river, to a larger river, to the Ohio River to the Mississippi River, and finally to the Gulf of Mexico. Water from our farm. Isn’t that cool?

Well, in theory it is cool. But this is the time of year for massive flooding so our rushing creek water gets added to thousands of other creeks and the drainage backs up. Our watershed isn’t related to the flooding in the Midwest. Their flooding is of epic proportions and people are still trying to dig out from under that.

Before Parkersburg built the flood wall, town used to flood a lot. When I was a little girl, around five years old, the creek that ran beside our house overflowed its banks and we were evacuated by rowboats going up our street. Since then, a lot of mitigation work has been completed and they don’t see that kind of flooding anymore.

We are supposed to be getting rain all day again. A little cooler today, but soon….soon we will enjoy long stretches of warm spring days and we can spend more time outside. The forsythia is just started to bloom. Whole hillsides are covered with bright yellow daffodils. They were an inexpensive flower that farm wives could afford to put in their yards to brighten up their little corners of the world. As a matter of fact, you drive along country roads and you can tell where houses once stood by the evidence of daffodils in a square or rectangle…surrounding the perimeter of a house long gone.

The grass is greening up. Mr. FixIt and I remarked that we’ll be mowing before long. And, the spring onions are sending up their shoots in clumps all through the lawn. The first time or two that we mow, it will smell strongly of onions when we pass over them. When I was a little girl and we milked cows, the milk smelled and tasked of onion. NOT want you want to eat on your !Cheerios! The butter also smelled like onions…not quite so bad if you were putting in vegetables, but yucky if you were putting on biscuits with jelly.

I love, love, love this time of year. Time to roll up our sleeves and get stuff done!

❤️

“Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.” Deuteronomy 32:2 NIV

Mother of the Bride

Fri, 22 Mar 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“I am hoping this is the one!”

The last time I was a Mother of the Bride was in 1995. It’s been a while. I’m an entirely different person this time around than I was when my older daughter got married. I was a hyper-involved helicopter mom back then. Just ask my daughter. She will tell you that she really had very little to do with her wedding because it was MY party. Many years of therapy later, I can now see that I lived the life I wished I’d had vicariously through her. I had terrible stage fright. She was in theater. SO cool! I wasn’t popular or athletic enough to be a cheerleader. She was. Uber awesome! She had cool friends that I got to hang out with. She got to go to college and live in a dorm! I was positively green with envy. She married the first young man she met in college and they were (and still are) perfect for each other. I wanted the fairy tail life she had. She loved me because I was her mom. But she hated me all the same. And I don’t blame her.

As her little sister, sixteen years her junior, was growing up, I can’t count the times Daughter #1 huffed at me because she wasn’t allowed to do this or that like her little sister. “She gets away with murder!” “You would have killed me if I did that!” She’s right, of course. I was already too tired to fly that helicopter over the young one and I had a crapload of my own issues by that time. Siblings are different anyway…but the difference between these two is remarkable.

Consequently, I am hardly involved with Daughter #2’s wedding. For one thing, I live on the other side of the country. For another thing, she and her fiancée have incredibly eclectic taste and their’s will hardly resemble a traditional wedding. I’m just tickled to pieces she has found someone whose beat matches her own. I’m happy to show up with a smile and stand where she tells me. This is going to chap her sister’s hide, I can assure you. But it is what it is.

I am actually going to be the Co-Matron of Honor at this wedding…a position I will happily share with her BFF, Lizzie. When I asked my daughter what she wanted me to wear, she said she didn’t really care as long as it was in the colors they chose for the occasion. Royal Purple and Hunter Green. I laughed and thought maybe I could wear Gold Lame and we could throw beads and pretend it’s Mardi Gras! You can clearly see my thinking is different now than in the ‘90s.

I chose to go with purple instead of the dark green. For one reason, the green just sounded way too hot to me and this little soirée takes place the first weekend in August. Also, I look better in purple. And, it’s a little bit easier to find appropriate attire this time of year if you look for spring colors.

I’ve been scouring the dress shops in our little burg and the selection is somewhat limited. I really don’t want to spend a boat load of money on a dress I will more than likely only wear once and since she doesn’t really care, I’ll go the least expensive route. I’ve scanned the internet and finally found this dress. I like it. It will hide a multitude of self-perceived “flaws” in case I don’t lose as much weight as I would like…a task I am hard-pressed to accomplish if I continue to eat pizza like I did as I wrote this. I did break one of my cardinal rules ordering this dress. I believe it is coming from one of those foreign clothing manufacturers and I have no idea if it will look anything like the picture. It was less than $40 so I’m not getting my hopes up, but if it’s a fiasco I’m not out a ton of money. I’ll let you know if/when I receive it.

In the meantime, the plans continue, my smile is ready, and it will be a beautiful day.

❤️

“We are careful to be honorable before the Lord, but we also want everyone else to see that we are honorable.” 2 Corinthians 8:21 NLT

From Wounded to Awakened

Wed, 20 Mar 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Awakened Women know from whence they came. Overcoming brokenness takes a great deal of hard work and patience.”

It would probably be safe to say most of us have been wounded in one way or another in our lives. You don’t get to 65 without some bumps and bruises. I spent so much of my adult life as one of the walking wounded. Growing up with an alcoholic father, being subjected to sexual abuse, experiencing brutality at the hands of a teacher, and getting the pee scared out of me by a traveling preacher were the foundation of fear that wounded my little girl psyche. That led me down a path of self destruction that nearly ended my life.

Kathy, my small group leader, posted this meme in our group chat yesterday. When you are the wounded woman who has become awakened, you don’t always understand the significance of the steps involved to heal. It’s easier when you watch others achieve their own healing. That’s when you understand just how far you’ve come. In other words, sometimes you really don’t get something till you see it in black and white.

I was sitting with Mr. FixIt at breakfast yesterday when I saw this meme. I had just been talking to him the other night about how different I feel with him than with any other person I’ve been with. I am totally at home. Comfortable in my own skin.

“You see the list on the left?” I said. “That was me before Mr. Virgo. Actually, I was still a little bit like that while I was married to him. But now? Now I’m firmly planted in the list on the right. You didn’t do that. I didn’t do that. GOD did that. Ok…I had to choose God first. Then I had to ask him to fix me. But HE’S the one that did the fixing. He’s the one who sent the right therapists, the right doctor. He’s the one who gave me the courage to find my voice.”

He “gets” me. He’s the one who gets to reap the rewards of my awakening. I remember back when I was separated from Hubby #2. I knew he had this good, kind, gently, emotive man inside him. He knew I had the potential to embrace everything in the list on the right. We just couldn’t bring those things out in each other. We needed to go through what we went through to become who we are.

Our daughter is getting married in August. Mr. FixIt and I will be attending the wedding being held at my ex’s somewhat palatial estate. I’ve never been there but I’ve seen pictures. The “me” that used to live in the left hand list would walk into that house feeling less than…unworthy…apologetic…falling all over myself to make a good impression, to look a certain way, to act a certain way in order to gain approval. The woman I have become is awakened. I know my value. It doesn’t come from anything…or anyone…earthly. I needn’t apologize for anything. I speak gently to myself.

I have to admit…the first time I saw a picture of my ex’s house, I burned with envy. For just a moment. The thought was, ‘That should have been MY house!’ Which was immediately followed by, ‘Yes, dear one…but HE comes with that house.’ There’s definitely a reason we aren’t together. We are both much better off apart.

This has been a long….LONG time coming. And, I’m finally…finally…finally there. ❤️

“for the light makes everything visible. This is why it is said, “Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light.””
Ephesians 5:14 NLT

A Night Out

Mon, 18 Mar 2019 01:30:21 -0600

“I love vintage embroidered linens.”

When we finally got home from town after church yesterday, I went out to TOW-Wanda and started getting her ready for the camping season. And, by getting her ready I mean I made the bed. And got in it. There’s nothing better than a good book in your camper on a Sunday afternoon. That, and a little snooze.

As I was getting the linens out to dress the bed, I came across these pillow cases. The blue and white one was purchased as part of a set made from antique German linens I purchased in Colorado in the ‘80s. The antique dealer had them embroidered…the pillow cases with the scroll embroidery and the shams with “Good Morning” and “Good Night”. I love this set and had forgotten the pillowcase had made it’s way into my camper at some point.

The other pillowcase is from a set I had my mom embroider when she came to Colorado one time. She used to embroider all the time and I loved the idea of having something she made to carry with me forever. It makes me smile and think of her.

I sent my manuscript to the proofreader last week. There were a few typos she highlighted for me. And, there were a couple of notes to areas that needed fleshing out in my book. She mentioned she wanted to know more about my mom and our relationship. When I curled up under the covers in TOW-Wanda yesterday, I thought of my mom…Wanda. I picked up my iPad and wrote more about this kind and loving soul who was my mother. She was one of a kind and I loved listening to the rain on the roof as I walked down memory lane with my mom.

Mother-daughter relationships can be tricky. My mom and I butted heads a lot. In all honesty, I was always a little too big for my britches, as my grandma would have put it. I was married to a doctor. I had a career in medicine. I had traveled a lot more and had lived in big cities. I fancied myself ever so much more sophisticated than my mom. It wasn’t until after the overdose that I realized what a horse’s patoot I had been to my poor mother. The only defense I have is the fact I was on Prozac for so many years and it changed my personality so that I really didn’t care much about others.

Fortunately, I got off all the meds and alcohol and grew up quite a bit so that my mom and I had a much better relationship the last few years of her life. It would have been so terribly sad if she would have died before we got to that point. She has been gone for 15 years now…so hard to believe. I am so happy I have tangible reminders of her and that I chose to keep them when I downsized. There are some things you just can’t get rid of and this pillowcase is one of them.

When Mr. FixIt came home, he came out and joined me in TOW-Wanda and we spent the night in the camper…our first night out for 2019. Maybe it’s not quite camping weather because they were predicting a bit of snow overnight, but we had plenty of cozy comforters and a furnace to keep us warm. Bring on the camping season!!!

❤️

““Honor your father and mother.” This is the first commandment with a promise: If you honor your father and mother, “things will go well for you, and you will have a long life on the earth.””
Ephesians 6:2-3 NLT

Fancy Meeting Jew Here

Sat, 16 Mar 2019 01:30:21 -0600

“You don’t see tzitzit around these parts very often.”

The other evening, I was home by myself and had a hankering for pizza. I’ll bet I have had one slice of pizza in the last six years and Giovanni’s was calling my name. Mr. FixIt doesn’t like this place so, since he wasn’t at home, I decided to go by myself. Ohhhhhh, I wasn’t sorry. Although the crust was just the slightest bit too soft on the bottom center, it was overall divine!

I threw caution to the wind and had them paint the crust with garlic butter. What the heck…I’d already blown any semblance of health food out of the water with this endeavor, might as well take it all the way! A wonderful sauce, a little skimpy on the pepperoni, generous on the mushrooms and the cheese was that perfect cross between crispy brown and ooooey-gooooey perfection. Ah, yes…I thoroughly enjoyed that.

I took my iPad with me so I could write in the restaurant and make an evening of it. As I was setting up, a man and his little girl walked in the door. I saw twenty people walk in the door that evening. None of them made an impression like this guy. The first thing I noticed was his tzitzit…the specially knotted tassels on his tallit katan…an undergarment traditionally worn under an observant Jew’s clothing. The second thing I noticed was his kippah, also known as a yarmulke…the skullcap Jewish men wear.

I looked at him and smiled in amusement. This is not something you normally see in small town West Virginia…very, VERY small town. Having lived as a Jew for twenty-seven years, I am quite familiar with the trappings of Judaism and I just had to know more about this guy. He went to the counter and picked up his pizzas and filled his drink cups. I finally caught his eye.

“You don’t see tzitzit around these parts very often.” I smiled.

“You don’t see very many people around here who know what they are.” He smiled back and shook my hand. “Mike.”

I took his hand in mine. “Ginny. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Turns out, Mike is originally from West Virginia but he lived in Israel for a long time. He met his Israeli wife there. Their oldest child was born in Israel. The baby was born here. We had a really interesting conversation about the reception he gets in small town America. He said in this little town, it’s fine…but in my hometown of Parkersburg, he has had some negative experiences. Hate is such an ugly thing. I truly believe the hate he (and I, myself) experienced is one of ignorance. It’s a family disease when you live your whole life without meeting anyone much different than yourself.

There isn’t much of a Jewish Congregation in Parkersburg…and none to my knowledge in the surrounding countryside. There used to be a small synagogue in town, but I don’t believe it’s there anymore. To make matters worse, Mike is a Messianic Jew…meaning he is Jewish, but he has accepted Jesus. In all actuality, I could be considered a Messianic Jew because I still feel a special kinship to the Jewish people. Many of my family members are Jewish.

Jews don’t necessarily take kindly to Messianic Jews. They do not believe Jesus is the Messiah. So they don’t consider a Messianic Jew to be…well, Jewish. And Christians don’t quite get it either. Here you have someone who says he has accepted Jesus, but is wearing the traditional garb of the Jewish people. They get kind of stuck in the middle.

I have a personal understanding of this position. When I came to West Virginia for Thanksgiving one year, I had a family member tell me to put my Star of David inside my sweater so I wouldn’t upset our Grandma. Let me tell you…I had a little quiet discussion with her and told her my Grandma loved me for who I was, and didn’t love me any less for my beliefs. I threatened to make the discussion a little louder right there in the dining room in front of the whole family and she backed off. I’ll stand up for the underdog any day of the week and I have to tell you…discrimination stings. I had never, ever experienced that before and it was terrible.

I handed Mike my business card and asked him to have his wife contact me. I’d love to befriend them and normalize the Judeo-Christian experience for them here. I know there are those who are highly suspicious of Messianic Jews because of the “Jews for Jesus” movement, but I don’t categorize people…I just love them. I thought to myself, maybe others will come to be accepting of them as well. I waved to them as they headed out the door and I sat back and smiled. Nope, you just never know what you might find in small town America. I think I may have found a gem.

❤️

“Remember your leaders, those who spoke God’s message to you. Reflect on the results of their way of life, and imitate their trust — Yeshua the Messiah is the same yesterday, today and forever.” Messianic Jews (Heb) 13:7-8 CJB

Heaven Sent

Fri, 15 Mar 2019 01:30:41 -0600

“I know it isn’t officially spring, but….this is good enough for me!”

Beware the Ides of March, they say. March 15th hasn’t always been my favorite day. For instance, this was the day Hubby #2 told me he wanted a divorce. Not one of my better days. This was also the day of Mr. Virgo’s viewing and Rosary which knocked all previous bad days out of the bad day competition up to that point. I think the 16th nudged ahead of that one.

Now though…now is different. Even though it’s not officially spring in West Virginia, you can’t tell Mother Nature that. Yesterday was stellar with a temp of 79 degrees at 4:00pm. After watching videos of the bomb cyclone that tore through Colorado on Wednesday, I was ever so grateful to sit in TOW-Wanda and write. The sounds of the peepers serenaded me as the stiff breezes rocked the camper gently. I even rubbed it in by video chatting with my favorite peeps in Denver and showed them the sunshine and open windows in my camper. Yeah…they don’t like me much right now….can’t understand why. insert eye-roll here

We all have good times and bad times in life that cycle up and down. I don’t forget the bad times. In the throes of acute grief, you honestly don’t believe you will ever feel joy again so it comes as a surprise when you first feel it. You even feel guilty because, after all, how can you possibly laugh when your person died? Eventually, one smile brings two. Laughter slowly replaces tears. Warm memories eventually move the pain of loss a little further back in your mind till eventually, even one day after the angelversary, you can feel the sun on your face and appreciate a warm spring day with undeniable joy in your heart.

Life is good. God is great. Spring is here. Joy abounds. Breathe. If these things aren’t here for you yet…hang on. They’re coming. ❤️

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.” Proverbs 17:22 NLT

Frieda’s New Shoes

Thu, 14 Mar 2019 01:30:56 -0600

“Frieda got a new pair of shoes!”

West Virginia requires a yearly vehicle inspection. That’s a good thing. Without that, I can just imagine the kind of cars and trucks that would be out on these country roads. It’s a pretty rigorous inspection, too. You can fail if the tint on your windows is just a little too dark. Or if you have a hole in your muffler. Or, as was my case yesterday…Frieda needed a new pair of shoes.

First off, I wouldn’t have gone to the garage I went to if it wasn’t for Mr. FixIt. He’s lived in this house since 1979. He knows ev-er-y-bo-dy. I have learned to take his word for it. He’s always gone to this place…so that’s where I went. I’m glad I did. The mechanic was great. He hoisted Frieda up on his lift and checked everything out. When he was done, he called me into the garage and showed me the front tires.

I have been watching these tires pretty carefully. I knew I was going to need to replace them soon. But, I’m getting ready to trade her in and buy one that’s more powerful to pull TOW-Wanda up the mountains of Colorado. I hate to put money into a truck I’m going to trade. The thing is, the inspection came due before the check came in for the purchase. So I kept hoping I could slip by.

Mr. Mechanic pointed out something I didn’t even look at. I’ve been paying attention to the outside edges of the tires. With the truck on the lift, I could clearly see when the inside edges were so worn, you could see the wire mesh…the tread was worn away completely. And that is not safe. The cards were on the table. New shoes or no sticker.

When I was a kid, my parent used to go to this shop down by the river where they could buy good used tires…cheap. We called Walmart first and two suitable tires were around $250 total…mounted and balanced. We went to the shop that sells used tires and I got two perfectly fine tires, plenty of tread, same brand as what was on the truck, mounted and balanced for $83 and change. You bet I went with the used tires….especially since I had Mr. FixIt with me to make sure they were good.

Sometimes people buy a car or truck and they don’t like the tires that are on it, so they go to a tire store and buy four new tires. I know they do this because I’ve done it myself…you know, back when money wasn’t as big an issue as it is now. I’m not destitute by any stretch of the imagination, but I want to keep what I can and make it work for me as much as possible. Mr. FixIt is teaching me many things. Being frugal is one of them. Now it’s like a game to see how good I can get for the least amount of money.

When tires have been traded in and they are still perfectly good, they get sold to a shop like the one I went to yesterday. The savings gets passed to the consumer…me! Now, Frieda has a new pair of shoes and a brand new sticker till next year. And I’m not out a gazillion dollars.

Oh, and I needed to refill the propane tanks for TOW-Wanda. When I lived up by the river, I was charged $58 to refill two 30# tanks. Mr. FixIt took me to his guy. You guessed it…$32 for the same thing. Makes me mad I got ripped off four years ago…but so grateful to have the input now. I guess I just never asked enough questions before. We are all a work in progress and it’s never too late to learn.

❤️

“The godly may trip seven times, but they will get up again. But one disaster is enough to overthrow the wicked.” Proverbs 24:16 NLT

Angelversary

Tue, 12 Mar 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Remembering Mr. Virgo”

Last year, I removed the date of Mr. Virgo’s death from my calendar so I would no longer receive reminders on my phone. After all, I’m not likely to forget such an event as that anyway. I do have a hard time remembering the exact date of my mom’s death and my grandma’s and my dad’s. I know approximately when they occurred but I have to look it up if I need to know the exact date. Not so with Mr. Virgo’s. I’ll never forget that…or him.

It was six years ago today that we set out to buy the travel trailer to take us into retirement. It was a beautiful sunny day with a hint of spring and we had everything to look forward to. Although I had been having premonitions all week, it was still a shock when he died so suddenly.

This was something I didn’t believe I could recover from. I swore to my girls that I would never, ever get married again because I couldn’t go through this a second time. Yet, here we are…six years down the road and I’m married again…to an equally wonderful man. I’ve been blessed with good men in my life.

My friend Deneene lost her husband in March a few years after me. I began to mentor her through the widow experience when she was going through a particularly rough patch. We don’t get to see each other much anymore as she has moved to South Carolina with her new love. We connect frequently via chat and yesterday, she sent a note telling me she was thinking of me and the angelversary of Mr. Virgo’s death. She asked how I was going to commemorate this day. Last year, when I removed the alarm from my calendar, I thought five years was enough of that. I figured I wouldn’t want to do anything special anymore. But, once I thought about it, I decided I was wrong. Time doesn’t change the facts.

It’s interesting at this point to think of my marriage to Mr. Virgo. He has now been gone the same amount of time we were married. And, just because time has passed, and just because I’m crazy in love with Mr. FixIt and I’m happily married, doesn’t mean my love for this wonderful man I shared my life with has diminished. Daughter #2 called me yesterday and we talked for quite some time about this. When we lose someone so special, our hearts expand at some point. My heart is much, much bigger than it was when Mr. Virgo died. There are spaces there with the names of every person I have truly loved. Those spaces do not become smaller in order to allow room for other to come in. The vessel itself had to grow.

As time has passed after each loss, those spaces that remain from the love lost aren’t empty shells. I’ve filled them with love and memories like filling a beautiful vase with thousands of blooms…only these flowers will never die. There were times, especially with the divorces, that I held onto bitterness and anger, but those things did not serve me. Filling each space in my heart with love has been my saving grace.

I am so blessed to be married to such a wonderful man who does not expect me to clean house and rid myself of those spaces in my heart. I would never expect him to do so. If you have truly loved someone, no matter what the end result of the relationship, filling those rooms full of flowers can set you free.

So, I’m at the farm. I’m writing and drinking good coffee and eating chocolate hearts. And I’m counting all my blessings for a heart filled with blooms by remembering my life with a good, kind man. ❤️

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26 NIV

Tap Tap Tap

Mon, 11 Mar 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“Typing away…tap, tap, tap!”

I am back to work on the book. I’m editing the first rough draft and it’s going really well, actually. My prayer going into this was to have a cheerful heart and find joy in the process. It’s amazing what a change in attitude can do in making a normally arduous task into something of a pleasure. Fresh eyes and a little distance gives you a new perspective and it’s easier to identify where the story needs polishing.

I took yesterday off. Grandma always instructed us to keep the Sabbath. She told me if I ever sewed anything on Sunday, I’d spend all of eternity picking it out with my teeth. I can approach editing with more joy than before, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend all eternity doing it! We went to church with the family and then brunch.

I bought the piece to fix the toilet at the farm. I need to fill the propane tanks for TOW-Wanda. Then I can hole up in the camper and write. Oh…and I finally took down the Christmas tree. I figured it was time with the spring forward thing!

We had such a lovely warm day yesterday. We got out of the truck after church and the peepers were singing! That is definitely the harbinger of spring. We made it through another winter!

Oh, I wanted to tell you about something that happened last week. Actually, it started about a month ago. I had a small mole on my temple that suddenly started to grow. I didn’t think much of it, but when it became tender and was really getting quite noticeable, I figured it was about time to call the dermatologist to go in and have it taken off.

Then I heard a sermon on healings. The premise was to not only pray for the healing….but to believe in the healing and thank God for it as if it had already occurred. Last week, I placed my finger on the growth and thanked God for taking it away for me. I just believed it was gone. I really wish I would have taken a picture of the growth for proof because…in two days’ time, it quite literally dried up and fell off! I run my fingers over the smooth skin where this growth was and I am just so amazed. Power of suggestion? Placebo effect? Nah…I’m going with divine intervention! Isn’t that amazing? ❤️

“Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.” Jeremiah 17:14 NIV

A New Perspective

Fri, 08 Mar 2019 02:30:44 -0600

“It never occurred to me to apply the Serenity Prayer to grief, but it makes perfect sense.”

I used to be a social drinker. For a long time, I told myself that anyway. And, I suppose it was true if you considered every day having at least one, maybe two glasses of wine with dinner…”social” drinking. I mean…I WAS with people, right? I never really saw it as a problem. When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I didn’t drink at all and it never bothered me. After she was born, I had a small glass of wine in the evenings. The doctor said it was good for me and it relaxed the baby. Whatever the doctor says, right?

Once the baby was weaned, I was back to my two glasses every day. It didn’t really become a problem till the last year I was with Hubby #2. My marriage was on the rocks. I couldn’t fix it and I couldn’t face losing it. So, we put doilies on the elephant in the room and I mixed a pitcher of Martinis…for myself…before dinner. If it wasn’t Martinis, it was Tequila…or really good Scotch…or stiff Bloody Mary’s…or a bottle of excellent Cabernet. I was self medicating…and that was a problem.

It interfered with my relationships…with my husband, with my kids, with my friends. I knew my marriage was circling the drain and I was going down with the ship. It wasn’t till after the overdose that I saw the light. I woke up in the ICU and knew I’d hit rock bottom and something had to change. I’ve never touched a drop since January 5th, 2000. And I can honestly say, I’ve never had the slightest craving, not the tiniest bit of desire to drink alcohol or take prescription pain meds. Nothing.

For a period of time, I went to AA meetings…nine months, maybe. I know there are people who work that program and it saves lives. I know that for a fact. I also know, God can lift that burden off of you in a heartbeat because I am living proof of that. For the longest time, I only related the Serenity Prayer to AA. It is recited at the meetings, so I took a narrow view of its usefulness.

What if…what if we use the Serenity Prayer on grief?

“God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change;”

To this, we can say….”God, I cannot change the fact that he died. Help me to accept that.”

“Courage to change the things I can;”

To this, we can say…”God, help me walk in a way that honors him. Give me the courage to face this new life alone. Make me strong in my faith so that I can change the things in my life that no long serve me.”

“And the Wisdom to know the difference.”

To this, we can say…”God, make me wise in my decision making. Give me discernment in my dealings with people. Bring me the wisdom of knowing when to hang on to things and when to let go.”

It honestly never occurred to me to use the Serenity Prayer on anything out of the context of alcohol…maybe drugs. But not Grief, or pain, or depression, or anxiety. This opens doors to another avenue of prayer and…I can never have too much prayer in my life. ❤️

““I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”” - John 16:33 NIV

March Forth

Mon, 04 Mar 2019 02:30:33 -0600

“March forth on March 4th!”

One of the benefits of being 65 is hindsight. I look back over my life and see a mishmash of events and situations that have led me to the exact spot where I stand today. Any decision along the way could have taken me in an entirely different direction. What if I hadn’t had the two marriages that ended in divorce? I wouldn’t have these beautiful daughters that have blessed my life so tremendously. I wouldn’t have Big and Little to make my heart sing. I wouldn’t have the in-laws and extended families that come with marriages. I wouldn’t have the lessons I learned through it all.

Each decision brought the next circumstance. While the second divorce was the worst because it was the longest marriage…if we hadn’t parted company, I never would have met Mr. Virgo. He helped me to believe in myself. He taught me so much about life and unconditional love. I tell people he taught me how to live without him by showing me I am much stronger than I ever believed. And then he died.

I can’t help but look back over the past nearly six years since Mr. Virgo died and marvel at the resilience of the human heart. I was battered, crushed, totally broken when he died. And bit by bit, I picked up the pieces of my broken self and handed them to God to hold. They cut me when I tried to hang on to them. He faithfully, diligently stitched the pieces back together, making sure I resembled who I was before but knowing he couldn’t make a carbon copy.

Faith. Hebrews 11:1 says “…faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” It wasn’t just my heart God stitched back together. He instilled in me…hope. When it was 3:00am and I was clinging to the edge of the mattress hoping to just get through the night, He whispered hope. When I cried till I couldn’t breathe…He whispered hope. He breathed hope into my life every single day so that I could find the strength to march forth into the next day, and the next, and the next.

It’s been 2,182 days I’ve marched forth. I have friends who are on day 4…day 21…day 93. My heart hurts for them. I want them to understand, I know it hurts. And I know you think you will never survive this or feel joy again. I let God carry the sharp bits for a long time. I handed the pieces over and asked Him to start stitching. I let Him breathe hope into the dark places. That’s how I got through.

Here I am…happily married again. The size of my family has literally doubled. So has my joy…and my faith. ❤️

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1 KJV

As Winter Fades

Sun, 03 Mar 2019 02:30:21 -0600

“Winter is having a blast this weekend….but spring is around the corner!”

I should write a book every February. Sitting in TOW-Wanda for the entire month made the time fly by. I try to like winter. I try to have a happier outlook. And, it’s not even like we had a bad winter. It’s just not green. I like green. It’s not warm. I like warm.

I think maybe this winter was easier too because I took a cue from Mother Nature. God puts all the trees and flowers and grasses to sleep in the winter. He gives them a break. It’s a time to rest and regroup. I like that. I tried not to make it too slug-like and just sit for weeks on end doing nothing. I tried to keep busy with things. I didn’t keep my body as busy as I should have. But I sure kept my mind occupied. And that helped the time go by.

I have a love/hate relationship with March. I love that spring is just around the corner. I love seeing the buds and shoots on the trees. I love the bird songs I hear through the cracked window every morning. Each week brings new calls and I try to remember which bird is migrating through. I love when the grass starts to turn green and the peepers start their shrill chorus beyond the creek. We’ll have new fawns before long…little spotty babies hiding in the tall grasses while their mamas feed nearby.

I hate March because it’s the month Mr. Virgo died. I remember every day leading up to March 12th…as if it were yesterday. Just like we remember where we were when Kennedy was shot or Princess Diana died or the Twin Towers fell. We remember. Widows remember. Mothers remember. It’s imprinted in our brains forever. We remember what it looked like that day…the weather, the temperature, where we were, what we were doing, what we wore. We remember the moments leading up to the end. And we remember the end. That’s when things start getting fuzzy. That’s when the slide show starts. A picture here. An image there. A feeling.

All it takes is a sound. A smell. The way the sun glints through the window. And you’re there. It’s not bad like it once was. Early on it was brutal. It was too real…too soon…too fresh. Time has smoothed grief like a rushing river smooths the stones in a river bed. Many years ago, I walked Glenwood Canyon for exercise. During the peak of the spring runoff, you could stand on the bike path at the dam above Shoshone Power Station and hear…feel huge boulders being pushed along by the force of the water. You can’t see them, but you know they’re there. You sense the disturbance under the water. That’s how grief is now. I sense the disturbance below the surface, but if you look at me, you probably won’t notice anything different.

There is a scale…like the ones Lady Justice holds in her hand. The March of Spring vs. The March of Grief. The grief side used to be the heaviest and kept me way off balance. Now it’s even. It’s softer…out of focus…but I will always feel that undercurrent of the boulders hitting my soul. ❤️

“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.”
Psalms 147:3 NLT

Sneaky Snake

Sat, 02 Mar 2019 07:27:55 -0600

“There are sneaky snakes in our midst!”

I have a helpful little app on my iPhone called Moment. It was designed by a guy who realized he was getting sucked into addiction to his smart phone and he didn’t like it. So, without any venture capital, he created this app and it’s doing very well. So well, in fact, he was contacted by the former president of Pinterest who offered him $7M for the app, with the stipulation they work together to try and save an entire generation from being Screen Zombies.

In my Bible study on Thursday night, we finished up Louie Giglio’s Book…Goliath Must Fall. The fifth giant we studied was that of addiction. When we think of addiction, our minds go to the obvious ones…drugs, alcohol, porn. Down the line we might think…shopping, relationships, food. While Louie did touch on those, he took it in a direction I wasn’t really expecting. He went for my iPhone. gasp

My phone and I are in a close, personal relationship. I’ve had a smartphone ever since that day I stood in line for six hours to buy the very first iPhone, only to have the lady in front of me get the last one they had in stock! I actually had to

W-A-I-T

One whole week before my journey to the dark side could begin. Oh…how amazing it all was. I remember when I bought our first personal computer. I justified it to Hubby #2 by saying our daughter needed it for school. But, it was clearly MY baby. The tech guy told me there would come a day when a computer 1,000 times more powerful that this one would be small enough to fit in a woman’s handbag. And now…here it was. A slick little handheld device with the world at my fingertips.

I’m here to admit…I’m addi….I’m addic….I use my phone…A LOT! I like to attribute a lot of that to my writing. And I’m sure that’s true. As I write my posts on my blog, I pick up my phone repeatedly to look things up, check the dictionary or Thesaurus, find and edit a photo. I browse the news two to three times a day. I check the obits. (Yes, I’m THAT age.) I send and receive texts multiple times a day. I seldom use it for…you know…making phone calls. I don’t browse Pinterest like I used to. I do post Tweets and Instagram photos for my blog’s social media accounts. Other than my blog, I spend far less time on Facebook than I used to.

There are two places I do spend a good amount of time. One is a word puzzle app called Word Crossy. I downloaded it after the neurologist recommended I do word games to help with my memory after the subdural hematoma I received in the car accident two years ago. I am happy to say, it has really helped. The other place I spend a good deal of time in is the YouVersion Bible app. I am currently doing The One Year Bible plan. I also read shorter Bible study plans alongside…sometimes with members of our small group. I read the Bible first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I also study as I search for scriptures to put in my posts.

An addiction is defined as the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

Uh-oh.

Try to take my phone…I dare ya!

To make myself feel better…or at least to enlighten me as to what LEVEL my electronic addiction has reached, I downloaded the Moment app. I am not at all surprised at the amount of screen time I racked up in the past week. You will be shocked, I am sure. I picked up my phone 165 times in the last week. I had 31h8m of screen time. I wrote 8-12 hours a day last week and, like I said…I use my phone a ton when I write. I just activated the feature that monitors what apps use up most of your screen time. As of last August, most people use Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, WhatsApp, and Snapchat…in that order. It will be interesting to see where most of my time is spent.

Addictions. They are sneaky little snakes that wind their way into and around our lives…stealing our time, stealing our joy, stealing God’s glory. This is a giant that MUST fall. ❤️

“You say, “I am allowed to do anything”—but not everything is good for you. And even though “I am allowed to do anything,” I must not become a slave to anything.”
1 Corinthians 6:12 NLT

Round One Done!

Fri, 01 Mar 2019 02:30:08 -0600

“I’m pretty wordy!’

I finished the rough draft! If you count my blog posts, I’ve written somewhere over 75,000 words in the month of February alone! Hokey Smokes!

I spoke to my publicist friend and she advises I step away from it for a while so when I go back and read it, I can be discerning and find any spots where the story weighs heavy. When I’ve tried this before, I get so sick of reading it over and over that I’m convinced everyone else who reads it will think the same thing.

I’ve lost three friends in three weeks. And another friend lost her mom yesterday. This is one of the bad things about aging. We lose people. My son-in-law’s mom said, the year before she moved her mother to the Denver metro area, she was going to funerals every week. It’s not only a hazard of aging, but also of small town living. I don’t know that I would change living in a small town though. I love it.

OMGosh! My oldest granddaughter got her learner’s permit! It was just yesterday I was teaching her mom and BFF how to drive. While I was 8 months pregnant! That was a hoot!

My brain is so scrambled from writing. You may not get anything of real substance from me for a week or so! ❤️

“Finishing is better than starting. Patience is better than pride.”
Ecclesiastes 7:8 NLT

Expect the Unexpected

Thu, 28 Feb 2019 02:30:24 -0600

“Unexpected things can be really, really good…or really, really bad. Anxiety can stem from the unexpected.”

My last small group gathering of the winter session is tonight. We’ve been studying Louie Giglio’s book…Goliath Must Fall. It is truly an amazing, insightful look into the giants we all face in life and how to get rid of them…once and for all. I hate to see this series end. I would like to do it all over again. At least I bought the book as well as the study guide, so I plan to read it again and again. I even have friends buying it and we can discuss it.

Our next season starts in April. We will be studying “Unexpected” by Christine Caine. The subtitle is “Leave Fear Behind, Move Forward in Faith, Embrace the Adventure”. Oooooooh, I love the sounds of that! I received the book and the study guide yesterday and it’s all I can do to keep from cracking it open already, but I want to keep my head in the game and finish what I started with Louie’s book first.

Seeing the title of the book yesterday did get my mind to thinking. Unexpected. That’s a double edged sword, isn’t it? I mean, we generally LOVE unexpected surprises…if they’re good. A baby is coming to a couple who thought they couldn’t get pregnant. An award is given for a job well done. A refund check comes when we were expecting to have to pay more. These are all the GOOD kinds of unexpected things we don’t mind hearing about.

What happens when the unexpected isn’t good? There is a miscarriage…a heart attack…an accident. Once that happens to you, you are hypersensitive. Hyper-vigilant. Over reactive. When my ex-husband found me after the overdose, it took years for him to be able to see me without having a rush of anxiety. Daughter #2 went through a very difficult period in her life when she would call me…frequently crying hysterically. I was going through my own issues dealing with grief. Her anxiety would set off my anxiety to the point when I saw her name on Caller ID, my heart would start pounding and my hands would sweat.

Anticipatory anxiety can come from having experienced the unexpected in a traumatic way. Mr. Virgo complained of shoulder pain two days before he died of a sudden heart attack. The other day, Mr. FixIt was complaining of his shoulder hurting and my heart started pounding and my hands started sweating. He looked at me and knew what was going through my mind. He knows me well. He immediately came to me, wrapped his arms around me and said, “It’s just my arthritis, honey. I’m fine…really.”

I don’t want to say “I can’t do that again.” Because, we do not know what the future holds and he deserves to have me right there beside him, supporting him, no matter what happens in life. So where do I put that misplaced anxiety? I ask God to take it.

“Lord, I need you to take this away from me. I know this is just a reaction caused by something that happened before. But it feels real and I need to focus on _____ right now, not anxiety.”

Anxiety is a giant that can control our lives. I learned in Louie’s book that Jesus already killed that giant. It’s dead and gone. I’m working on it. I’d love to say I read this book and did the study and watched the videos and now anxiety is a thing of my past. But I’ve been dealing with this since I was in second grade. That’s a whole boatload of years. Whether it is a medical condition or a conditioned response doesn’t matter…it feels real. I will say though, it’s much improved since studying Goliath Must Fall.

Unexpected things will always happen…good AND bad. I just have to remember to pray and hand it all over. ❤️

“But when I am afraid, I will put my trust in you.”
Psalms 56:3 NLT

Writing and Praying

Wed, 27 Feb 2019 02:30:39 -0600

“Prayers, Praises, and Persistence”

I was a little worried when I went out to TOW-Wanda yesterday morning. Were the words going to come? Or was I going to hit another roadblock like I did Monday? I gathered my gear, grabbed my coffee, kissed Mr. FixIt, and headed to “the office”.

Once the furnace was on, I slipped out of my shoes and climbed into my little writing nook. I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and figure out a plan of action. Holding the warm coffee between my hands, I closed my eyes and prayed.

“Lord, thank you for all these words you’ve been sending me. Thank you for this comfortable place to write in and call my own. Thank you for trusting me to be your hands. Lord, I’m not sure what happened yesterday. My friend Gail says you were just giving me a day of rest. Whatever it was, Lord…please make me a vessel. Use me in whatever way you can. I promise I’ll do what you say. Amen”

I sipped my coffee and was about to open the document app and resume writing the book when I felt the nudge.

“Find your verse.”

This is something I do when I want to hear personally from God. When I’m having a specific issue, I ask God to help me find my verse…the one he speaks through. If I have my bible, i just open it to the spot that feels right, close my eyes, and point. That is my verse, and 99.9% of the time, it speaks to me directly regarding whatever issue it is I’m dealing with. I can do the same thing with the app.

When I opened my app yesterday, chose a book, then chose a chapter, the Parable of the Persistent Widow came up. I kid you not. I took one look at it and laughed with glee.

“Awwww, Jesus…you are SO good. Would you look at that? How do you expect people to believe this?”

It’s true. The parable was told to the Disciples to remind them to pray and to never give up. You can’t make this stuff up…he answered me right there. So, I prayed again.

“Ok, Lord…here I am praying and I’m never going to give up. I just feel like I’m supposed to be going somewhere with this book but I’ve lost my direction. I’m giving it back to you. Guide me where you want this to go.”

Just then a dear friend texted me and asked me to give her a call. She said, “I just want to tell you how proud I am of you. You’ve been talking with God. AND…you’ve also been listening to the Holy Spirit as he guides you through your book. You’re doing a great job. Keep it up!”

Sometimes I wonder if other people can hear my chin hit the floor as much as I can. Not only did he send me a scripture saying “Keep praying! Never give up!” He nudged a friend to reach out and say, “You’re doing a great job. Thanks for listening to the Holy Spirit!” Hokey smokes!

I scrolled back and found the exact spot where I went off the rails. I highlighted the words from that point to the end, cut, and pasted them into a new document I entitled “Extras” and saved it. I’m not going to throw those 12,000 words. They may come in handy in another book. I’m back to 52,422 words with a goal of 60,000 to 80,000. I also have a Mission Statement for my book so I know more specifically what to ask for.

I don’t want to overwhelm you with God stories each and every day. There are days when other topics seep in, but even then, the underlying story is how God works into it. I also know the timbre of my writing has changed. But, when something so profound gets set down on a platter in front of me, how can I NOT share that? I still shake my head when things like this happen, even though I absolutely KNOW where it comes from. So, here’s my Worship Wednesday post! ❤️

“One day Jesus told his disciples a story to show that they should always pray and never give up. “There was a judge in a certain city,” he said, “who neither feared God nor cared about people. A widow of that city came to him repeatedly, saying, ‘Give me justice in this dispute with my enemy.’ The judge ignored her for a while, but finally he said to himself, ‘I don’t fear God or care about people, but this woman is driving me crazy. I’m going to see that she gets justice, because she is wearing me out with her constant requests!’” Then the Lord said, “Learn a lesson from this unjust judge. Even he rendered a just decision in the end. So don’t you think God will surely give justice to his chosen people who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will grant justice to them quickly! But when the Son of Man returns, how many will he find on the earth who have faith?””
Luke 18:1-8 NLT

An Early Spring?

Sun, 24 Feb 2019 02:30:34 -0600

“The forsythia have leaves already! Spring can’t be far away!”

Sometimes Facebook memories are great. They remind us of what was happening a year…two years…five years ago. I have to admit, they were really awful when I was in the throes of active grief and some wonderful memory with Mr. Virgo popped up. They don’t hurt so much now and I enjoy seeing where we were.

On February 15th of last year, the peepers were out. It was 65 degrees. Peepers are those little frogs we’ve talked about many times here and they are the harbinger of spring. Unfortunately, our climate is so messed up, the flora and fauna get confused when we have these waves of warm weather. So far, I haven’t heard the peepers yet.

I was heading out to TOW-Wanda on Friday to write and saw the forsythia bush has leaves on it! I know our growing season is much longer here in West Virginia than it is in Colorado. But this kind of surprised me. Some of my friends have posted pictures of their crocus coming up already. We did have a pretty mild winter and other than that week of the Polar Vortex, things have been pretty mellow.

I don’t mind that a bit. I am getting a little bit tired of all this rain though. I mean…it’s like build-an-ark rain. The ground is super saturated. Today is supposed to be really windy. The two combined will bring lots of trees down. The other night I had that tree fall in front of me on my way home from the farm. Last week, Mr. FixIt had to take a detour around a big tree that fell across both lanes. Then yesterday, I was coming home from town and another HUGE tree fell about twenty feet from that one. It wasn’t there when I drove in earlier. Fortunately, this one was old and fell apart when it hit the road. People were driving over the crumbled up bits.

I’ve got to tell ya, I’ve never looked at the trees along the roads like I have in the last two weeks. A couple of summers ago, the highway crews cut the trees way back on the main road going out to the farm. They’re going to have to do that on this road before too long. There are trees literally hanging out over the two-lane and that’s scary.

The writing continues…60,526. I wrote 8,000 words on Friday alone. If I could be this prolific all the time, I’d have a shelf full of best sellers! Here’s hoping! ❤️

“then he will send the rains in their proper seasons—the early and late rains—so you can bring in your harvests of grain, new wine, and olive oil.”
Deuteronomy 11:14 NLT

“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

When Grief Calls

Tue, 19 Feb 2019 02:30:21 -0600

“When grief calls, I’ve learned to listen.”

This past Sunday, our pastor spoke about “doing” the Word as well as ‘hearing’ the Word. He talked about how we become overweight Christians by coming to church and filling up on the Word without working it out. God gave the Word to us to not only fill us up, but to go out and DO it.

This got me to thinking about what I “do” with what I’m given. My answer is…this. I write to you. I sit down with you for a little chat. You are so kind as to invite me into your space to share coffee or to rock on the porch or to hold your hand for a little while. Sometimes, you let me talk about Jesus and how he has changed my life. Sometimes, you laugh at my antics when I lock myself out of TOW-Wanda or I misunderstand something Mr. FixIt says.

But, most of all, you let me hold your heart a little while. You let me share how broken mine was. You let me share hope…for healing, for a brighter tomorrow, for a time when you won’t cry quite as much. You let me share love…for a man who left too early, for a man who came so unexpectedly, for a Man who was both God AND Man. You let me share courage…to face the future without your person, to face uncertainty about finances, to just weather the storm.

When I went to the late service Sunday night, they had the Prayer Team at the front for an alter call. I watched as we continued to sing and worship, and my eyes rested on the leader of our small group. I wondered…who prays for the pray-ers? I went up to her after the service and said, “The Holy Spirit put it on my heart to pray for you tonight.” We went to the side wall and I held her hand and I thanked God for bringing this mighty Prayer Warrior into my life. I asked him to bless her and anoint her words when she helps to lead others in prayer.

The point of all this is…this. THIS. This blog is a big part of my “purpose”. We all have a purpose. Something we were put on this earth to do. Mine was to help widows and others who have lost their special ones. I did this yesterday by writing another 5,656 words for a total of 36,216 towards the completion of my book. All in the last eleven days…with three days off. I’ve never experienced this sheer volume of writing before. At this rate, I’ll be done in less than three weeks. Then, what on earth will I do with my time? Oh….camp, build things, help people heal, start on Book #2! You never know what I’ll be up to next! ❤️

“I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.”
Psalms 57:2 ESV

“so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:5-8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Another Peaceful Day

Sun, 17 Feb 2019 02:30:01 -0600

“Deer grazing outside my window in TOW-Wanda.”

I have now spent eight out of the last ten days in TOW-Wanda and I have to tell you…I feel like a million bucks! Usually by this time of year, I’m ready to pull my hair out with boredom. I usually become less content with each passing day, even though the daylight is becoming longer…the long, dark nights shorter. The only two things I have done differently this year is leave the tree up and spend long hours in my camper.

There is a reason girl campers like their little houses on wheels. They offer us a safe sanctuary in which to create. Some of us haul our sewing machines out to the camper in the fall and sit out there happily sewing quilts, clothes for the grandkids, linens for the home, gifts for family and friends. Some knit and crochet, weaving prayers and stories into their creations. Some cross-stitch or needlepoint, creating marvelous pictures from colorful threads.

Some gather friends to join us for tea or drinks, showing off our fancy little playhouses. Some have sleepovers with the grandchildren, bringing up the next generation to adore our little campers in the same way we have. There are as many different varieties of girl campers as there are travel trailers and we celebrate each and every one of them every time we tow.

Me? Well, as you well know…and I’ve told you repeatedly this week…I write in TOW-Wanda every chance I get. I turn on Pandora, find the Nature Sounds channel, and listen to raucous rainstorms, salient sea breezes, flighty feathered friends chirping in the forests. I’m instantly transported from the chill of wintery West Virginia into another place, another time. My little twinkle lights glow above me…the view out the windows revealing a stoic blue heron near the creek or a browsing herd of deer making their way across the lawn. Yesterday, I watched the moonrise over the hills to the east of the Ponderosa and I counted my blessings in that very moment.

I’ve written 30,560 words on my book as of last evening. Words that take me to corners of my mind I sometimes wish were never there. And to places and times that I cherish dearly. These words stir something in me…always. But they are just feelings now. They aren’t happening in this moment. That’s how I keep them from poking me now with little barbs…trolls with sharp sticks…fairies with tiny wands…giants with hammers. They aren’t happening now and God is bigger than any poking thing in our lives.

30,560….encouraging words, painful words, funny words, sad words, terrifying words, loving words. This thing is happening! ❤️

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

Verbosity

Sat, 16 Feb 2019 02:30:18 -0600

“I’ve typed over 25,000 in seven days, not including my blog posts. Crazy!”

My mother said I had the “gift of gab”. Daughter #2 swears I can “talk to a tree”. They are both correct. I am, as my longtime sister/friend puts it...wordy. I try to trim my words down, but If I don’t tell you the back story, how are you going to get the significance, right?

I fixed my coffee and stepped into TOW-Wanda at around 10:00 yesterday morning. By 4:30, with only one short break, I had over 25,000 words written over the course of seven writing days. I think that’s got to be some sort of record! For me, anyway.

It made me curious…what is the average word count for authors? Turns out, Google knows everything. Ernest Hemingway churned out 500 to 1000 words per day. Stephen King claims he types upwards of 2000 words per day. One thousand words per day is the average for bloggers. Twenty-five thousand words in a week isn’t counting the blog. Holy cats!

A memoir, or autobiography, is in the same category as a novel and should be between 80,000 and 89,000 words. It’s important to keep track of your word counts. Too few words and you aren’t giving your readers enough. Two many, and you’re trying to emulate War & Peace and it’s snoozeville. Anything over 100,000 is more expensive for a publisher to produce so it’s important to try to land somewhere in these guidelines.

So, I’m at 25,000 words. If I can continue at the current rate, I could have the rough draft done in less than a month. That would be awesome. Thanks for hanging in there with me! I’ll be back out there today. My plan is to just take Sundays off. ❤️

“"Have you understood all these things?" They said to him, "Yes." And he said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old."”
Matthew 13:51-52 ESV

The Hazards of Writing

Fri, 15 Feb 2019 02:30:42 -0600

“When I write a ton, I have a tendency to forget who I told what to. It’s an occupational hazard.”

I’m knee deep in writing this book now. All week, I have gathered my coffee and my writing gear and headed out to “the office”…my wonderful little home on wheels…TOW-Wanda. I turn on the furnace and curl up on the day bed, cover up, and sip coffee till it warms up enough to concentrate. When I shut it down at 3:00 yesterday afternoon, I had 20, 534 words written. It’s amazing!

This is in addition to writing my blog post every day and normal communications with people via text, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and e-mail. Whew! There are a ton of words flowing out of these fingers and I’m literally typing as fast as I can. The downside of all that is…I cant remember who I’ve told what to. Did I type that in a tweet yesterday or text it to my friends Janine and Gayle this morning? Was that story in my blog last week or was I telling someone about that when I saw them yesterday? It’s partially age. It’s partially multiple head injuries and the subdural hematoma I received when my truck was totaled two years ago. It’s partially the brain fog of grief still affecting me. And, it has a lot to do with the sheer volume of words that I write.

I know I’ve told you this week that writing the book this time is totally different, but I’m going to tell you again…because it amazes me. When the words flow like this, it’s magic. Time and space disappear. It’s a cross between watching a movie and writing what I see, and typing out dictation. I know it sounds trite to tell you the words don’t even seem to come from me. I know sheer repetition over the years has honed my writing skills, but still…I’ll read something I write and think, “Wow, that’s pretty good. I wish I could write that well!” It’s both intriguing and disconcerting to feel so disconnected from the process and still have it turn out ok.

I know I told you it’s easier emotionally this time, but I’ll elaborate on that. Yes, it’s easier in that it doesn’t feel like I’m ripping my heart out of my chest to write this time. However, I’m finding my level of discomfort varies with the topic of the day. I wrote something about anxiety the other day, and that night I felt anxiety rise up in me about something. I haven’t felt true anxiety for quite some time so I can only attribute it to the writing because nothing else has changed. Yesterday I wrote about an episode of childhood sexual abuse and I could feel the prickles of adrenaline running up the back of my arms. I was writing about hard stuff and my body was feeling it.

It’s ok to feel these things. If I am so disconnected from the emotions of the experience, my writing would be flat. It’s a thin line between feeling the feels and having my heart ripped out of my chest. I’ve been praying that God will help me say what he wants me to say, and to give me just enough juice to feel it. He is a good and compassionate Father and he is walking me through this every day. I feel his presence when I work. I am grateful for that.

We had bible study last night. We are still working our way through Goliath Must Fall by Louie Giglio and last night we covered the chapter on Comfort. The Giant of Comfort isn’t those times we take a break and go on vacation or when we have really great furniture that cradles our bodies. The kind of comfort Louie is talking about is complacency. When we do just enough to get by. He said we are closer to God when we are are experiencing discomfort. In other words, when we are out of our comfort zones. When we expand and reach and push ourselves to do something we really feel God is telling us to do, but it’s not something we are necessarily excited about doing. But we do it anyway. that’s letting the Giant of Comfort fall. I feel like that’s what I’m doing with my writing. Sometimes I write things that literally make me squirm. They aren’t always comfortable to talk about. I just truly feel like I’m doing what God has called me to do and he tells me to be honest. There’s very little I hold back here, much to the dismay of some of my friends.

Anyway, I just wanted to say, if I start repeating myself too much, someone give me a holler, will ya? Cause there’s only so much I can keep in this little brain when I’m writing this much. ❤️

“do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”
Philippians 4:6 ESV

On Loving...Unconditionally

Thu, 14 Feb 2019 02:30:27 -0600

“I am a Christian AND I love everyone… unconditionally.”

The other day, a West Virginia delegate made a series of ugly and disparaging comments about the LGBTQ community. He compared them to terrorists and the Ku Klux Klan. He was interviewed later and given an opportunity to clarify his position, and it was actually SO much worse than what was originally reported. When asked what he would do if his son or daughter came home and told him they were gay, the delegate said if it was his daughter, he would take her for a pedicure. If it was his son, he would take him hunting. And if, upon their return, they still said they were gay…he would take them out and “see if they could swim”. The interviewer was aghast and asked, “Are you saying, you would take them out and try to drown them???” He just looked at her with a sinister grin and didn’t answer.

I was sickened, on so many levels. First and foremost, that he has this kind of hatred in his heart and calls himself a Christian. Second, that he would turn away from his children, or worse…do them physical harm. And, finally…it HAD to be a West Virginian. Why did he have to come from MY state? The answer is, because there are people like him in every state.

Here of late, I have been so uplifted and fortified by my faith, I have been shouting “Hallelujah!” from the rooftops. And that’s how I feel…excited by the ways I see God move in my life. Excited about the opportunities to share my stories of his love and provenance. Then, this week…I received this wedding invitation. And I was reminded, I may be giving people the wrong idea about who I am in my faith.

Some people may equate my bold Christian joy with the kind of person who denigrates those who are unlike them, like that delegate from West Virginia. Nothing could be further from the truth. I do not discriminate against anyone. I’m not perfect, but I certainly try to emulate Jesus at every turn. He loves everyone. He does not see people from the outside. He looks at their hearts. After raising my daughters in the Jewish faith, I was appalled when Daughter #2 came home from school crying because the kids called her a “stupid f****** Jew”. I held her close and tried to explain ignorance and intolerance and bigotry. It broke my heart.

I respect all faiths, save for those who kill people in the name of their god. I respect all people, save for those who kill or maim or injure children or animals. When I raise my voice in praise for Jesus, I don’t want it to exclude my love for others who don’t believe as I do. I don’t want to walk ahead of and ignore the one who is still looking for God. I don’t want the Muslims and the Jews and the Seiks and the Hindus and even the atheists…anyone of any faith…to think I do not love them equally. I look for, and see, the God in all people. That divine spark that comes from somewhere far beyond the stars. That sign of something far greater than any of us here.

I also embrace the LGBTQ community as my fellow human beings, who house that same divine spark as me. It is not my place to judge anyone…not even that delegate from West Virginia. Everyone will be judged by their maker in the end. It’s not my job. At the same time, I’m going to tell you about this amazing Jesus who rules my life. And, I’m going to show you, as best I can by the way that I live, how a good and loving and forgiving Father has changed me. The two can, and in my humble opinion SHOULD walk hand in hand.

Because, you see…that wedding invitation we got in the mail this week? That’s from Daughter #2 and her fiancée…a very kind and loving woman who has helped my baby become a better version of herself. They are getting married in Colorado in August. They love each other completely… unconditionally. How can I not do the same with both of them? This is my child. We love who we love. It is not my place to judge. You may do what you wish, but I do pray I will always, always, always land on the side of love. Because that is the way Jesus loves me.

***If you don’t agree with me, that’s ok…I won’t judge you either. I know this is a hot topic for some, but this is my house, my rules. We speak with respect here. This is a case where we’ll take my grandma’s advise…”If we can’t say anything nice, we won’t say anything at all.” ❤️

“As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.”
Romans 14:1-4 ESV

13,318 Words!!!

Wed, 13 Feb 2019 02:30:53 -0600

“Making progress, writing in TOW-Wanda.”

I have a perfectly good laptop I can use for writing. As a matter of fact, all of the writing I have ever done for this book has been on the laptop as Word documents. Over the years, I have become accustomed to using my iPad for all of my posts for my blog. I’ve also used my phone, much to my son-in-law’s surprise. He can’t imagine typing out an e-mail on an iPhone, let along an entire essay! I say, where there’s a will, there’s a way.

This is my third generation iPad. I don’t know if I’ll ever buy another one. I suppose, if this one becomes obsolete, I’ll have to, but this one works just fine. When I bought it, I found a wonderful case that has a built in keyboard, It folds up exactly like a laptop so it’s perfect for me. It’s light and portable. All my photo editing apps are on it. It’s really all I use anymore.

After taking Sunday off for Church and yesterday off to catch up with errands, I was looking forward to getting out there in TOW-Wanda and writing. I have Pandora radio on my iPad and I love to listen to Nature Sounds Radio. It runs through different scenarios, most often rain and thunderstorms, ocean sounds, and occasionally a campfire or crickets. In the evenings, if I write in the living room while Mr. FixIt watches TV, I wear my Bose sound cancelling headphones with the nature sounds and I can write uninterrupted. The same in the camper, unless it’s actually raining. Then I’ll just listen to the rain on the roof.

It was in the mid-‘50s yesterday here at the Ponderosa. What a treat that was! This really hasn’t been a bad winter at all. An added benefit of listening to these summery nature sounds is how easy it is to fool my brain into thinking it’s not wintertime! Usually January literally c-r-a-w-l by in the slowest way, but this year that was not the case. I can’t believe tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, my sweetie brought me a dozen creamy white roses Monday evening. They are in my Mikasa vase on the living room table where I can see them as I write. What a sweet man! I bought him a watch for his birthday and told him it had to count for Valentine’s Day too since both occur in February.

It feels good to be moving along on my book again. I’m doing something different this time…besides writing it on my iPad where I’m more comfortable. This time I’m taking the advice of some seasoned writers and just writing the whole story straight through without worrying about editing along the way. I am so accustomed to writing these essays every day and keeping a close eye on the editing. It is a bit of a challenge to just…write. It goes a lot faster, though. I’ll have to say that.

I like the app I write with. It’s called Pages and keeps track of your word count. This is something that’s useful in knowing when a chapter is long enough. It’s also helpful to know your total word count for publishing reasons. The average novel is 60-80,000 words. If that’s the case, I’m really making good progress. The person I am working with on this says to just get it written, then we’ll worry about who’s going to publish it.

And here it is…hump day already. Hope you all have a really great day. I’ll be writing some more! ❤️

“The words of a man's mouth are deep waters; the fountain of wisdom is a bubbling brook.”
Proverbs 18:4 ESV

A Marshmallow Day

Mon, 11 Feb 2019 02:30:19 -0600

“Cold, grey days are Marshmallow Days!”

I got home safe and sound yesterday just in time to leave for church. The tree that had fallen across the road the night before was cut up and moved from the roadway. The same scenario is being repeated over the entire region with the thaw and soaking rains causing the ground to soften. All it takes is a little gust of wind and trees topple easily.

We have thoroughly enjoyed church the last couple of weeks with Mr. FixIt’s daughter and family joining us. I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels to take up seven seats in a row. My heart is overflowing.

Our pastor spoke on criticism yesterday. Good criticism comes from a place of love, and even though it stings, it is meant to lift us up. We all have suffered the other kind of criticism that really isn’t “criticism” at all. It’s self-serving and mean spirited and is critical. There’s nothing about love in that. Pastor Justin’s premise was…don’t let them in. Don’t listen to that.

There is a difference between criticism and someone who is merely expressing an opinion and it might be difficult to discern that at times. The other day, someone I care about and whose opinion I value very much sent me a private message. In it, she said my writing has changed. I have become more “evangelical” than she likes on a daily basis. My very first thought was “sting”. Immediately followed by “that’s ok. I still love you.”

Since then, lots of things have gone through my mind. Am I coming on too strong and driving people away? Have I crossed the line into “Crazy Christian Lady who can’t talk about anything but Jesus?” I wanted to apologize. Then I decided…I really can’t. I write what comes to me. I write from my heart. And I am always brutally honest about my feelings and what I share.

Some people lose touch with God when they lose their special person. They can’t understand how a loving God could make someone suffer with cancer. Or they prayed for healing and it didn’t come. Or, any number of other reasons. For me…my faith has deepened tremendously since Mr. Virgo died. And especially since I started dating Mr. FixIt. I have never had a relationship that was so “equally yoked”. I’ve never had a partner who came to church with me every Sunday, who holds my hand with his right hand and praises with his left. I’ve never shared late night conversations about God. That alone is enough for me to want to shout from the rooftops.

This is a dark time of year. I talk about what is on my heart. I try not to make every day “Preaching Sunday” but there are only so many ways I can tell you I knitted all afternoon and still make it interesting. And I am infinitely fascinated by the way God works in my life.

I am always open to loving criticism. I told my dear friend how much I appreciated her candor. I know my writing has changed. I’VE changed. I’ve grown in many, many ways in the last six years. And I truly hope you’ll hang around with me and keep reading. I’m still going to write what is on my heart, and if it’s Jesus or something he is teaching me, you can rest assured…I’m going to write about it. I’ll write about other stuff too, just to mix it up. But, I’m Jesus’ girl first and foremost…there’s no way I’m going to hide that. ❤️

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Saved Again

Sun, 10 Feb 2019 02:30:54 -0600

“Knowing who saves me over and over brings me peace beyond understanding.”

I finished my laundry and packed up the car. I had a last minute conversation with a wonderful woman I met recently. Then I headed home from the farm right about dusk. This photo looks like it was pretty light out, but it was dark, dark, dark when I headed into the home stretch on the two-lane country road. It was so dark, you were right on top of deer before you saw them, even with the brights on. Something ahead of me caught my eye. Not three seconds ahead of me, a big tree fell and crossed both lanes. Fortunately, I was going slow and didn’t need to slam on my brakes. I am well aware I missed this falling on me by the skin of my teeth.

I happened to be on the phone with Mr. FixIt when I saw the tree fall. There was no one else on the road. He reminded me to put on my emergency flashers. I sat there for a few minutes as we discussed my course of action. I could wait there for someone to come along and either pull the tree off the road or cut it up and haul it off. Or, I could turn around and go back where I came from. There were two routes available to me. One took me through a long area with no cell service. The other took me across a road that had a number of mudslides this week. Ultimately it would take me clear into town and then I’d have to take the interstate south and back out another two-lane. A long, long drive in the dark and still there were areas with no cell service. I decided the shortest route would be best and I headed back toward the farm, but…when I got there, I had already dodged umpteen deer and for the first time in a long, long time, I was worried about driving in the dark, alone.

When I got to the farm, I called Mr. FixIt and told him I planned to stay another night and I would be home in plenty of time to go to church. He agreed that was a good plan. That’s when I confessed I was actually worried about driving out here in the dark and I couldn’t understand why. I mean…nothing scares me. Three years ago, I wouldn’t have given this a second thought and would have looked at it as an adventure. But now? Now is different. Now it’s not just me. Now I’m not so foggy, not so careless with my existence. Now there are not only my children and friends who love me. Now there is a man and a bonus family that look to me with love and acceptance. It’s not that my life had no value, but even three years ago, the depth of my grief made it difficult to appreciate the time I had ahead of me…the family I already had that were still here and needed me. I have been awakened in the last two years. Awakened and earnestly appreciative of every precious moment I am given on this side of the grass.

Moments after my call to Mr. FixIt, a friend sent me a message that Rt. 5, the alternate route I was preparing to travel, was now closed with a large downed tree. It would be quite some time before that road was cleared. Heavy equipment was being brought in to move the tree off the phone lines. So, it seems my guardian angel was quite busy last evening keeping me from harm. I thanked God all the way to the farm for always caring for me and for the protection he afforded me last night.

And…over the last three days, I have written six chapters and 10,831 words on my book. I’ve written this book three times, at least. And every time before, it was a struggle. I’d read it and re-read it till I was sick of it and it never really spoke to me. It always seemed to me to come out flat…like I just wasn’t reaching the sweet spot where the story flowed. I’d put it away for months at a time, pick it up, and find the same problems. It wasn’t working. I have finally figured out why.

I was approached nearly three years ago by a literary agent who was interested in my writing. We signed a contract for a book. I remember when we were getting acquainted, I told her my writing was faith-based and she suggested perhaps I should use a Christian publisher. She didn’t have those connections. I thought about it for a few moments and said no, it might be good if the book was out in the general populous because it could reach many who perhaps struggle with faith. We moved forward with the contract. In the following three years, two things became apparent to me. One, my social media presence hasn’t grown as fast as I had hoped and two, my faith has deepened and now I know I want a Christian publisher. I think God waited for me to decide to include him in the book before he made it clear which direction to go. And before he opened the floodgates of words.

I have struggled for over a year with the decision to part ways from my agent. That dark voice kept whispering, “A bird in the hand, you know.” I finally stopped listening to that voice and paid attention to my gut…my inner God-voice…and send her an e-mail last week expressing my desire to change directions and head for a Christian publisher. She totally understood and felt that was the direction I should go and wished me well. So, now I have no agent, but I have the freedom of knowing I did the right thing and the trust that God will get this book out of me and onto paper.

This time, writing is different. The words are literally falling out of me. I’m typing as fast as I can. Nearly 11,000 words in three days is phenomenal! The biggest difference I notice is, this time it’s not slaying me to write it. I feel the healing of the past three years and I know this is the right time. I’m really excited about that! ❤️

“‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’”
Jeremiah 33:3 NIV

The Farm and Me

Sat, 09 Feb 2019 02:30:22 -0600

“The Farm is my ultimate happy place!”

If the weather hadn’t turned colder yesterday, I would have spent the night out in TOW-Wanda last night. But, with a low of 17 degrees forecast, I opted for the next best thing and headed to the farm! I made sure Mr. FixIt had everything he needed, filled him with more cold meds, propped him up in his recliner with a cover and a heating pad and made my escape. He still has some potato soup to warm up and I promised I’d be back sometime today. I could sit and watch him suffer and watch TV, or I could write. With his full support, I chose writing.

And write I did! As of the time I am typing this post, I’ve written 7141 words since Thursday morning at 11:00. That’s a lot of words! The goal when you write is just to get the rough draft down. Write it all out…worry about editing later. That is the most difficult part for me. I want it perfect the first time so I don’t have to go back over it again. I don’t know anyone that works for.

I stopped at my cousin’s barn on the way out here yesterday to leave 80 cans of cat food and a 40 pound bag of dry cat food. Yes, I was prepared for the winter and had just purchased all that a few days before the cats were moved to their new home in the big barn. So, they were gifted cat food aplenty! I was thrilled to learn the kitties are hanging out there and haven’t wandered off. I saw Kitty Boy, the young short hair. My cousin said they were both there last night when he fed them. There are six roosters down at the barn and they all get along fine. This makes me happy!

The farm is my time machine. Every time I get to stay here, I am swept back to my childhood. I get to feel all those really great feelings again. This farm and TOW-Wanda are my happy places. Right now, as I write this, I am propped up in Grandma’s bed. I cracked the window open when I first got here so I can hear the water running in the creek. We’ve had a lot of rain this week so the runoff is pretty high.

I’ve been really surprised we haven’t lost more trees out here. There are mudslides all around these parts this time of year. The ground freezes hard and when it thaws, it’s aerated. Then the heavy rains come and the ground gets so saturated, all it takes is a good windstorm and trees get uprooted. Mud and rocks slip down, sometimes covering the road…sometimes taking the road along with it.

As Mr. FixIt came home from bowling Thursday night, he called me to say there was a huge tree lying across the road at the top of a hill less that two miles from the house. He managed to turn around and, knowing every backroad within fifty miles of here, made a quick shortcut that would bring him back out on the two lane just past the tree. We were asking on the phone as he drove when he said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I asked what was wrong and he said he drove right into standing water on the road. He wasn’t driving too fast…it was just there before he knew it. It’s easy to see how people can get caught up and swept away in high water when you have little to no warning it’s ahead. Thank goodness, he got right through and was home in no time.

I stopped at the Piggly Wiggly on the way to the farm and picked up a few things. I had a small steak and baked potato for dinner. Yummmm! I’ll spend today writing and doing laundry before I head home. I hope you all are planning a wonderful weekend! ❤️

“My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer.”
Psalm 45:1 NIV

I’m Writing Again

Fri, 08 Feb 2019 02:30:45 -0600

“Writing again…this time I mean it.”

About a year ago, I set my book on the back burner at the urging of my agent. She wanted me to focus on increasing my social media presence. And, while taking a break from working on the book was welcome, that time hasn’t made a huge difference in how many people follow my blog or Twitter or Instagram accounts. People come, people go. Maybe you need this for a season. Maybe for a reason. But things just stay the same overall.

I’m not complaining…not by a long shot. I love sharing my thoughts and stories here on the daily. But I found myself spending entirely too much time knitting and my book still sits. Sigh. It’s not going to write itself. If it were, it would be a best seller by now.

My accountability team contacted me yesterday and gave me the kick in the butt I needed…with an order. Five hundred words by 5:00 Wednesday afternoon! I got up earlier than usual yesterday. I made sure Mr. FixIt had everything he needed. I packed up my bag with my iPad, headphones, iPhone, and reference materials, grabbed a drink and my umbrella, and headed out to TOW-Wanda.

I extended the slide-out which normally holds the dinette. I have the table lowered and a twin mattress on top. I grabbed the pillows off the bed and propped them up at one end. I turned the furnace on to ward off the chill. I jumped in, covered up with the softest minky throw, propped my portable desk on my lap, and dove into my Pages app and started writing. I designed my book cover. I finally took a leap and typed in the title…something that has been eluding me for years. (Shhhh…it’s a secret. I can’t tell you what it is.)

Six hundred ninety words later, I turn off the iPad and looked off into the gloomy afternoon. The rain pounded on the roof, pelting the windows with a sound much like bacon frying. A sudden flash of lightning and a quick clap of thunder told me the storm was getting closer and intensifying. In the early days of trailer camping, a thunderstorm caused me to worry I might get electrocuted. I’m sure you aren’t as protected in a camper as you are in a house, but I’ve long since let go of the fear of storms. I leaned back and smiled. I pulled the soft minky material up under my chin and allowed my mind to drift along till I heard a tapping at my door. Mr. FixIt was leaving to go bowl and wanted to give me a hug. He’s feeling better, thank goodness.

Soon after he was gone, I gathered up my things and headed back inside. The sky was clouding up again and I knew I was going to need to be inside to keep an eye on that leaky drain downstairs that overflows when it rains. It was a good day. A productive day. Six hundred ninety words down. Who knows how many to go. ❤️

“"Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Write in a book all the words that I have spoken to you.”
Jeremiah 30:2 ESV

I Need That Joy...

Wed, 06 Feb 2019 02:30:12 -0600

“I Need That Joy…down in my heart!”

I love, love, love the way God works in my life! It’s like an elaborately woven tapestry with bright colors here and dark colors there…never seeing what’s developing in the picture till you get some perspective. That’s when you start to see how this thread that was pulled over here is causing that thread to move over there. And then you see…you really SEE. And you know beyond a shadow of a doubt…it is GOD!

Case in point. We were standing in the lobby Sunday waiting for the doors to open and head into church. I was talking with my step-daughter about my blog and how my spiritual walk began to blossom within it. I explained how the enemy really started attacking me when I opened up my heart and started praising God in my writing and adding scripture to my posts. I attended my very first Revival and was baptized in the Spirit which took things to a whole new level. Pastor Matt told us one night to take back our homes and our properties and to banish the enemy from the premises. The next morning, I got Grandma’s old bible from the buffet and walked around the perimeter of the yard, hands outstretched, shouting praises without shame. I informed the enemy he had no dominion over me or my house and I showed him the boundary. It’s one of my favorite stories and it was the first time I had shared it with my bonus family.

Soon, we went into the sanctuary and were seated. Pastor Justin gave a wonderful sermon about patience. At one point, he started getting animated and talked about banishing the enemy from our homes and properties. I sat back and smiled and thought, “Here it comes!” He went on to say, “Take your bibles and walk around the perimeter of your property and send the devil packing!” My step-daughter and I whipped around and looked at each other, mouths gaped open, and laughed out loud. I love it when that happens. And when you are attuned, it happens a lot. You just have to pay attention. I was so glad God showed them he was there!

I told you earlier this year new things were coming. I still can’t talk about the specifics yet, but I knew there were a couple of associations I had to sever before I could move forward into the new project. I’ve waffled, I have to admit. Because a “bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”, as my grandma used to say. I prayed about it and told God I put all my trust in him and I know he will open the new doors where he wants me to go. I hit “send” on the last e-mail and immediately, Spirit told me to turn on the Christian radio station I was listening to earlier in the day. I did, and the worship song “Joy” by King & Country came on. Now, I’ve never heard that song, but listen carefully to the lyrics and you will hear God saying, “Yes! Things were critical and you made a choice. Now…feel the JOY!”

Wow…these kinds of things really pump me up! My body was humming like I was plugged into an outlet. And, in all actuality, I was. I was getting recharged by the Holy Spirit. I couldn’t help but feel that “joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart!” More to come down the road as the journey continues. ❤️

youtu.be/lA7n7TwPD…

“Clap your hands, all peoples! Shout to God with loud songs of joy!”
Psalms 47:1 ESV

Happy Mind, Happy Life

Tue, 05 Feb 2019 02:30:06 -0600

“Making the little things count, because the little things add up to be the BIG thing!”

Yesterday was a really great day! First of all…the sun was shining and we had a high of 68 degrees here in West Virginia. A difference of over seventy degrees in three days…and Mr. FixIt has a sore throat. sigh I’m hitting him with Zinc and Vitamin C. And prayers!

I met a friend for coffee yesterday at the new Starbucks. Sue is a budding artist and she gifted me a watercolor of a little bluebird. She knows how much I love them. For Christmas, I gave her a pair of socks that I knitted and she wanted to give me something special. I’ve had it sitting near me all day and it’s so sweet.

The other day, when I learned Mr. FixIt’s family was going to join us at church, I made us each a notebook. It has three sections…a planner, a place for prayers and praises, and a section for sermon notes. I’ve always said I was going to take notes during the service and this was the perfect time to prepare.

Happy Mind, Happy Life…

My bonus granddaughter and I were talking about that just the other day. We were talking about the images we look at. You can never “unsee” something. And the things we choose to put in front of us for visual consumption changes us. It changes our brains. It changes how we see the world and how we see ourselves. We have to be ever watchful with what we choose to feed our minds because “we are what we eat.”

When I came in from sitting in the sun yesterday afternoon, I asked Alexa to play Contemporary Christian music. As I picked up my knitting, I let the uplifting music wash over me and fill me with the Joy of the Lord. My heart rose with the swell of the music…my skin still warm from the sun…my spirit still stirred from Sunday’s service. It’s good that we carry that image with us into the week. The image of God and the Word and Love and Fellowship and Goodness and Family. These are the things I choose as my Daily Bread. These are the things that I will fill myself with. ❤️

“Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—”
1 Peter 2:2 ESV

The Giant of Rejection

Fri, 01 Feb 2019 02:30:51 -0600

“The Giant of Rejection…something I have battled my entire life.”

Last night was our third session in the study series of Goliath Must Fall by Louie Giglio. This has been the most amazing program our Bible study group has done to this point. I’ve been looking forward to this particular session because rejection and it’s cousin, perfectionism, were my constant companions from a very, very young age.

Everyone wants to be accepted. We enjoy the approval of others. If you say, “I don’t care what anyone thinks of me!” you can just about guarantee that, at least on some level, you very much DO care. This can stem from the smallest slight…something said casually, in jest, that really hit you and stung. Or it can be very real…your father abandoned the family, you were given up for adoption, you lost a job you loved…even the death of someone near and dear to your heart. The sting of rejection can haunt you all the days of your life.

Louie Giglio postulates that you have two schools of thought that separate your thinking on the subject of rejection.

“So that.” and “Because.”

You try to act or be a certain way so that people will love/accept/approve of you.

You are who you are because God is who HE is.

He chose you. He CHOSE you. He knew you before you were knitted in the womb of your mother. He knows the number of hairs on your head. You don’t need the approval of others BECAUSE you already have the approval of God. There is nothing you can do to make Him love you any more or any less. Isn’t that amazing???

I’ve learned this along the way. I’ve learned to pinpoint where and how my particular train went off the rails. And I know with all logic that what Louie is telling us is true. But practicing it, in all ways? That’s a lifelong project when you have been rejected in a very painful way…especially at a very young age like I was. A sadistic teacher, childhood sexual abuse, and an alcoholic father were the perfect storm that set me on a path to find the love I never felt deserving of. I made great strides in therapy then met Mr. Virgo. That was my first experience of unconditional love. When I lost him, I was crushed…not only by his death, but by the loss of that unconditional love I had waited my whole life for. I didn’t think I could find that again…then Mr. FixIt came along.

Still, when I find myself wanting approval, I remind myself. God chose me. He chose ME. The Creator of the Universe knows my name and how many hairs are on my head and still…He chose me. We all love being loved and approved of and accepted. But with the knowledge that God chose us and loves us immeasurably, we can do so in a healthy way. ❤️

““Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.””
Jeremiah 1:5 NIV

Are We Raising Strong Kids?

Thu, 31 Jan 2019 02:30:47 -0600

“School closings for cold weather…are we raising weak kids by saying it’s too cold outside?”

I can’t decide. Were adults negligent when we were kids and they made us stand in sub-zero weather to wait for the bus…in skirts, no less? Or are they teaching kids to give up when things get hard when they call school off for two days because of cold weather? Seriously, I don’t recall ever hearing of someone dying of hypothermia waiting for the school bus in 1969. Did I like it? Heck no! Did it kill me? Not by a long shot.

We weren’t allowed to wear pants to school back then and, by golly, my mom abided by the rules. I couldn’t wear pants under my skirt even if I swore on a stack of Bibles that I would take them off as soon as I got to school. Rules were rules and that was that. I only had to walk three blocks but sometimes the wait was 20 minutes or more if the roads were bad. It was pretty brutal, but I survived.

We didn’t have money for snow boots. I wore my penny loafers and knee socks. My feet were ice cubes by the time I got to school. The skin on my kneecaps was hard and white. There wasn’t such a thing as puffy ski coats, either. I had a hand-me-down wool coat and a toboggan. Still, I never had frostbite. I was rarely sick.

There was a government official that got some backlash yesterday for suggesting we are teaching kids that we quit when things get hard. More than likely, when these kids grow up, their boss will expect them to show up when it’s cold instead of staying home in their jammies and playing video games all day. I’m inclined to think we’ve become a little too soft in this day and age.

Granted…I stay in and knit and drink tea on blustery, cold days. But, I payed my dues. We did go out to the farm yesterday. We needed to check the well pump in the cellar house to make sure it wasn’t in danger of freezing. All the water lines were clear, the heat was on, the gas stove in the bathroom was working perfectly, the cabinet doors were open, and so was the basement door. That allows extra heat from the basement up into the kitchen, helping to keep that side of the house warm. The cellar temperature was actually well above freezing. It is built back into the hillside and is covered by earth on three sides. Just to make doubly sure though, we turned on the trouble light that hangs near the pipes to give a little extra warmth. It was 2 degrees when we got home.

Ha! I’ve turned into my mother…my grandmother…my great-grandmother. I can just hear my grandma saying, “Why, when I was your age, we had to get up and milk the cows and gather the eggs and feed the hogs before we could head off to school. We had to cut the wood for the cook stove, too! We didn’t have any modern conveniences, and we did just fine. This younger generation doesn’t know how good they have it!” I don’t know…I suppose a windchill factor of -15 is as good a reason as any to call off school. It’s wicked cold out there. Be safe if you have to be out…and kids, use this time to learn something. Look up “global warming”, “climate change”, “how to prevent frostbite” and write a little essay. ❤️

Edit: I’m going to step up here and say many of you have made very valid points. This is a very dangerous polar vortex and in thinking back, we certainly did not experience wind chills of -50+ when I was a kid. The weather has changed. The economy has changed. I hadn’t thought of all the factors you, as current and former teachers, have expressed. Polar vortex windchills and trophies for all aren’t the same things. Thank you for enlightening me. That’s why I love this blog. You cheer me on…and you teach me when a I need it.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.””
Joshua 1:9 NIV

Building up my Stash

Sun, 27 Jan 2019 02:30:49 -0600

“Eighteen hand-knit cotton dishclothes are perfect for impromptu gifts.”

Yesterday was a decompression day. Taking care of and loving on lots of people this week left me needing a day that was all about me, for the most part. I’m almost finished with the cotton yarn I bought to knit dishcloths. There’s probably enough to make a couple more. I have eighteen in my stash. I like having these around for impromptu gift giving. I also get a bar of lavender soap every time my doTerra order comes around and I don’t need vitamins. I put these things all away to have ready for birthdays and hostess gifts.

I have this whole bonus family through marrying Mr. FixIt and I am thrilled to say the grandkids are going to church with me today! Mr. FixIt and I will go at noon then when he bowls this evening, I’ll take the grandkids with me and treat them out to dinner after church. I wanted to spend some quality time alone with them. Bonding time is important in step-families…even when the kids are all grown up. I’m so excited…I can hardly wait!

I told you I would let you know if I slept well again when I practiced handing everything over to God before bed. Well, I did and it was amazing how fast I fell asleep…and stayed asleep all night. I think I’m onto something here!

We haven’t been to church for two weeks because of bad weather. I can hardly wait to get there today…twice! Have a blessed Sunday, dear ones. I’ll see you this evening for Sunday Night Prayer Circle. ❤️

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.”
Proverbs 17:6 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 Poet - From Darkness into Light

Sun, 20 Jan 2019 02:30:58 -0600

“Think before you speak. Read before you think.”

"maybe death isn’t darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us — as soft as feathers"
~ Mary Oliver

How I let a treasure like Mary Oliver slip through my fingers, I’ll never know. It’s an excellent example of realizing how very much I do not know. The internet has been filled with loving tributes to this gentle woman with the expansive heart…her pen trimming away the excesses of flowery verse and going straight for the pit of your stomach. Her words are like magic…painting pictures of love and kindness and tenderness. Nature was her cathedral. Poetry was her torch.

Oliver loved Whitman and Emerson, Shelley and Keats. Growing up in a dysfunctional home in Ohio, she ultimately settled in the wilds of New England, wandering through her woods and harbor…taking notes and penning phrases along the way. She has been compared to Emily Dickinson. Her poetry is filled with both darkness and joyous light. Her life partner, Molly Malone Cook, was her constant companion for over forty years, as well as her literary agent. After Molly’s death in 2005, Oliver continued on in Provincetown, Massachusetts until finally relocating to Florida. She rarely gave interviews because she valued her personal privacy and wished for her work to speak for itself. Mary Jane Oliver passed away on January 17, 2019 of lymphoma. And the world lost a valuable treasure.

In researching Oliver’s work, I became introspective. How often do we think, once we have arrived at “a certain age”, that we somehow have attained a level of knowledge that we can, at the very least, term “well rounded”? I know a little bit about a lot of stuff, but there is SO much out there I haven’t a clue about. We cannot possibly learn everything, but how sad that I didn’t know Mary Oliver and her brilliant poetry during times in my life it might have soothed my heart. How joyful that I still have the opportunities to continue learning and growing.

We are but a sum of our life’s experiences, are we not? The other night, I had a troubling dream. A recurring dream about a hopeless situation which will never be resolved nor totally understood. Not in this lifetime anyway. And whenever I have this dream, I am left feeling an ache in my heart…bereft over a loss I had little control over. It leaves me out of sorts for days and colors my every interaction, thus leaving the stains of old hurts smeared onto others who have no knowledge of my pain. It’s unfair and senseless. As I drove to town yesterday, I had a conversation with God. I asked Him to please step in and be an intermediary…to block this dream, and even the thoughts of the events that precipitate it. To take away the memories that come back and haunt me year after year. As I pleaded with God, I literally felt the old, familiar ache physically leave my heart. A weight was lifted and the cloud in my mind dissipated. I immediately thanked Him. Then…I let it go.

Poetry. Prose. Words. Prayers. God. They have such power to release you from the bondage of the past…if you let them. If you feel them and taste them and speak them. They can breathe life back into the sore places of your soul. ❤️

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.”
1 Corinthians 13:1-3 ESV

Finding the Right Tools

Fri, 18 Jan 2019 02:30:23 -0600

“Having the right tool leads to success.”

Good communication skills have not always been my strongest suit. For years, I was afraid to speak up for fear of judgement and rocking the boat. That changed with Mr. Virgo and I’ve honed the skill with Mr. FixIt. Yesterday I told you he was being a little stingy with his power tools. So, that night, instead of stewing over it, I just pointed out that I like power tools, too. He smiled and said he just wasn’t used to women who know how to do things like that. I understand that. Not all women can, or even want to, operate power tools.

Yesterday, we needed to build another brace at the other end of the bathroom floor. That is where you attach two short pieces of 2x4 to a long piece in an “H” fashion and fasten it between the floor joists to support the new floor above. This end of the floor is located directly over the washer and dryer. It’s an awkward position to stand on a ladder and it was impossible for Mr. FixIt to get up in there, so I climbed up on the washer and dryer and fastened the new boards in with three inch wood screws.

I don’t know if you have ever held a drill at an awkward angle, over your head, and tried to hold enough pressure to keep the bit from slipping in the head of the screw, but I assure you it’s not easy. The first two screws stripped immediately. So I did what I always do…I talked to Jesus. I asked him to help me get this job done and the screws went in easily as I kept saying “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” When it got really difficult, Mr. FixIt just reached up and held the end of the drill and it worked like butter.

When you face the tough things in life, you need the right tools for the job. We had the right wood screws. We had the right drill and bit and a fully charged battery. We had proper lighting and ladders. We had mutual support and trust. And we had Jesus standing in between us. We can call on Him to help us with the most mundane of tasks. My shoulders relaxed and I put all my focus and force on the task at hand and was successful. The right tools for the job…it’s what creates success. ❤️

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
Hebrews 4:16 ESV

Building a Better Bath

Thu, 17 Jan 2019 02:30:31 -0600

“Master Bath seems to be a bit of a misnomer when it comes to this tiny closet of a room.”

For those of you who have been following me for some time, you may remember when I helped a friend redo her bathroom. In that case, the man who she had arranged to do the work got as far as the demo and skipped out because it was “too cold outside to come over”. She called me desperate and asked if I could help. I have considerable experience after having remodeled my mom’s house before I sold it, so I jumped at the chance. I love doing fix-it kinda stuff.

That bathroom turned out really great, if I do say so myself. Between the two of us, we had that thing knocked out in less than a month and it was beautiful when it was done. When I moved into Mr. FixIt’s house, the bathroom off the master bedroom was gutted. It has taken us a bit of time to get to the point of tackling this particular job because outdoor stuff kept taking precedence. And, now I know how Mr. FixIt felt the first time we went camping together. I wouldn’t let him do anything with the hooking up and unhooking of the camper. I did the driving. He just came along for the ride. Such is my participation in this home improvement project.

My job appears to be that of “hold this here.” Now, don’t get me wrong…I love a man that is handy with power tools. AND I love to work with power tools, too. Now I know what he felt like when I told him to just sit over there and look pretty. It’s ok. I don’t really mind. I love helping him in any way I can. I try really hard not to tell him what to do when he doesn’t do something the way I would do it. I’ve learned to excuse myself when I’m getting too bossy and go work on something else till he needs me again. I’m learning how to do new things like building in support structures between floor joists where the shower is going. Once you have learned to be independent and do things for yourself, especially when you love building things, it’s not easy to back off and let someone else have the reins. Learning to be a couple again…give and take…relinquishing control…almost feels like new skills.

We are a good team, Mr. FixIt and me. Thank goodness he has infinite patience! ❤️

“May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Romans 15:5-6 ESV

Little Vintage Campers

Wed, 16 Jan 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“Little vintage campers…how many people were IN this thing?”

Yesterday, Mr. FixIt and I were having breakfast when he picked up his phone to show me something. He watches Facebook Marketplace closely because, you know, you never know when you might need one more thing, right? Anyway, there was an ad in there for a 1969 Shasta Compact camper. Swoon! Anyone who knows anything about campers knows Shasta is kind of a status symbol for campers. This particular one was being converted into a food trailer, but it’s too small for the job so the people are trying to unload it. It’s gutted already, no leaks, towable, new tires, and only $500. Not bad.

We contacted the gal and as one might imagine, she already has people coming to look at it, so the chance of me even getting to see it are pretty slim. And, like I need another project! Anyway, if I get to see it, I’ll take pics and show you.

Thinking about tiny little campers got me to looking at vintage camping art and photos. Look at this tiny little camper. Now, look at how many people there are camping. Wow! It’s like one of those clown cars where clowns keep coming out one after another! Cars were a lot heavier and more powerful back then so you would see the family car pulling a really big trailer. Do you remember the movie Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz made called The Long, Long, Long Trailer? It was huge but they pulled it with a convertible!

I never camped as a kid, but I remember going over to a friend’s house and they had a camper. Us kids were allowed to go in it and use it like a playhouse. I remember being absolutely mesmerized by it and I wanted one in the worst way. I was always married to non-campers till Mr. FixIt came along. Now we have four campers between us and I am preparing to convert an old minivan into a mini campervan. Oh yeah…I REALLY need another camper! ?‍♀️

❤️

“For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, 'This man began to build and was not able to finish.'”
Luke 14:28-30 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

The Water Crisis

Mon, 14 Jan 2019 02:30:26 -0600

“If a crisis occurred and you didn’t have modern conveniences…would you know what to do?”

An alert went out to a good portion of the residents of my home town Thursday evening. There was a boil water advisory. This happens when there has been a water main break or something of the like. It seldom lasts more than a day. Not this one. What started out as “north of the Kanawha River” became “all PUD customers” overnight. Water was coming out of faucets anywhere from clear to partly cloudy to brown. Some people had no pressure at all. Others had a dribble. Still others seemed unaffected but a ban is a ban.

It was interesting to watch Facebook as people became more and more concerned. There really wasn’t a very good explanation given to allay the fears of the citizenry. And, given we live in Chemical Valley, imaginations ran wild. It really could have been anything. Some said it was still ok to shower. Some said not. Others said it was ok to wash your clothes but when they did, large brown spots stained them. Now, I’ll have to admit…this situation did not affect me personally because we live out in the country away from that particular city water system. But, I’ve lived through things like this many times and it is not only a major inconvenience….it can be downright scary.

It happened fairly often in Colorado. Just about every year when the spring runoff brought an over abundance of silt down into the city water intake, the filters were soon overwhelmed and our water got murky. There would often be a boil water advisory. My cousin has to haul water to fill a cistern since they live on the side of a mountain here in West Virginia. When they get a good hard rain, their water turns a murky reddish-brown. Out at the farm, there is a rainwater catchment system in place, but it’s been decades since the cistern has been cleaned or the filter changed. The point being, there are lots of folks who have to boil water on a regular basis. Or they just resort to buying water or taking empty jugs to a family member’s house to refill them. That’s what I did after Mr. FixIt and I started dating. I had about a dozen one gallon jugs I threw in my truck and I filled them when I visited him in town.

For those of us more accustomed to living a more primitive life, these things are par for the course and you just roll with them. But city people who rely on the immediate availability of fresh water at the turn of the faucet get rattled. I don’t blame them. We are creatures of habit and we become complacent in our consumption of utilities. This is such a first world problem. So much of the world’s population has no access to fresh water, let alone electricity, gas, internet, phone, and groceries.

What would (will?) happen to us if the unthinkable happens and it all goes away??? Will you know how to collect and filter water? Will you know how to produce and preserve food? Will you be able to provide housing and clothing for yourself and your family? Will you be able to gather fuel to cook and keep warm? Do you have skills or goods for bartering? I worry that the last generation to really have those skills is getting too old to provide them. So, here is what I posit. If you have skills, pass them on to young people…your children, grandchildren, great grandchildren.

This isn’t meant to cause an alarmist response. I don’t think something like this is imminent. But it cannot hurt to stock up on some extra jugs of water in case there is an emergency in your area. Parkersburg’s boil advisory wasn’t lifted until last evening. That made three full days without tap water for a pretty good-sized town. I’m not saying you have to go full on survivalist, but knowledge is power. Be prepared…or as prepared as you can be. ❤️

“Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring.”
Proverbs 27:1 ESV

The Dark Corners

Sat, 12 Jan 2019 02:30:03 -0600

“We are but a wisp of smoke when we are gone…shadowy memories that cling to us like curls of smoke.”

I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday. Nothing major…just a follow up on something we’re keeping an eye on. Aside from the boring green floral upholstery on the chairs, there were some unmemorable pieces of what would pass for art. You can go in any medical office in America and see the same room. Rather than pick up germy, outdated magazines, I pulled my knitting out of my bag to get a few rows in before my name was called.

As I stitched, my mind was drawn to the television hanging in the corner of the room in front of me. Our local hospital is affiliated with WVU Medical Center and the TV plays an endless loop of PR stories…physicians and patient profiles that demonstrate the different specialties and what they can achieve.

As I knit two, perl two, something caught my attention. A woman was on the screen talking about her husband. He had arrived home early from work and decided to take the dog and go for a run. She continued to shop on the computer when he returned in moments saying he didn’t feel well. Her nurse mode kicked in and she realized he didn’t look well. She checked his pulse and to her horror, realized he was having a heart attack. She got him down on the floor and implored him to stay awake. He said he was trying and with that, lost consciousness. She began CPR while trying to dial 911, shouting to the phone on the floor to send an ambulance right away.

It was my story all over again.

I found myself gripping the knitting needles, willing the man to breathe, to wake up, to not leave his wife alone to clean up the mess of death…to stay a little longer so she wouldn’t feel what I felt. While I was relieved to hear he made it, there was that familiar pang of “Why me? My MY man?”

Tears stung my eyes…to my surprise.

I don’t let myself go there very often anymore. It’s like a photo album and I know what the pictures inside look like, but I don’t necessarily need to get it down and view it very often. It’s just easier on me if I don’t go there.

And, besides…I’m married again. Aren’t I not supposed to grieve another when I have this wonderful man in my life now? I don’t grieve like I once did. That is a GOOD thing. That is the way it should be. But just know this: There will be times, there will be moments, there will be events that will trigger you and, no matter how happy you are and your life is vastly improved, you’ll still “go there”. This is normal and I want you to know that. I want you to be gentle with yourself. Don’t feel guilty. Feel your feels cause they’re as real as real can be. You never stop loving…you start loving more. And gradually, you begin hurting a little less, and a little less, and a little less till you put the photo album up on the shelf. ❤️

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants.”
Psalm 116:15 NIV

Transformation

Tue, 08 Jan 2019 02:30:50 -0600

“God often uses our deepest pain as the launching pad of our greatest calling.”

Grief comes in a variety of circumstances. My first experience with grief was when my Pop-Pop died just after I graduated from high school. I was devastated. I lost a job I desperately needed when Hubby #2 was in his first year of Medical School. The rehab center where I worked was experiencing some financial difficulties and I was let go. I felt it was personal until the next month when fifty more staff members were given their walking papers. I guess misery DOES love company. I grieved deeply over that loss because I loved the job, for one thing. For another, I was young and had never experienced anything like that. My next major grief experience was the overdose and subsequent loss of my marriage and the alienation of my children. That was horrifying. Then I lost my grandma, my dog, and Mr. Virgo in less than a year.

Every time I’ve faced grief, I’ve thought my world would end. I couldn’t figure out how to live after those losses. And every time, I survived. Not only survived, but eventually thrived. I learned skills from coping with grief. Grief chiseled me into the person I have become. And as painful as it was to go through, God came in and used that pain as a launching pad of my greatest calling…my mission, as it were.

I’ve been having some meetings and there are exciting changes coming in 2019. Nothing I can talk about yet, but I can see God’s hand all over it. I was talking about it with Mr. FixIt the other night and told him I’ve been praying for these exact things…I have to walk forward into this new territory. Don’t worry…I’m not going anywhere. Just more fun and excitement I can’t wait to share with you all! ❤️

“Whenever, though, they turn to face God as Moses did, God removes the veil and there they are—face-to-face! They suddenly recognize that God is a living, personal presence, not a piece of chiseled stone. And when God is personally present, a living Spirit, that old, constricting legislation is recognized as obsolete. We’re free of it! All of us! Nothing between us and God, our faces shining with the brightness of his face. And so we are transfigured much like the Messiah, our lives gradually becoming brighter and more beautiful as God enters our lives and we become like him.”
2 Corinthians 3:16-18 MSG

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

Snatched From the Jaws of Death

Fri, 04 Jan 2019 02:30:51 -0600

“She was snatched from the jaws of addiction and saved by the Blood of Jesus.”

She’s just twenty-four. Yet she was addicted to heroin for six years. And occasionally she did meth. On April 14th, she overdosed on both and landed in the ICU for four days on life support. She wasn’t even out of the ER when she popped up on my radar. I’m in a small group at church with someone who knows Danielle very well. The text came in begging for prayers to save this beautiful girl.

And pray we did. Our whole church prayed for her. Actively. Daily. There were prayer warriors stationed at the hospital. There were friends and family talking with her. They wanted to connect her with someone who could help her in this fight. And they wanted Jesus in Danielle’s corner.

She resisted, as you might imagine. At first she said she’d talk to him. Then she wouldn’t. And finally, just before discharge, she relented. I’m unsure of the exact timeline, but I know it wasn’t long till this beautiful girl was saved in a parking lot with many prayers surrounding her.

The change that has come over Danielle is remarkable. When you see her today, and see the light of Jesus on her, it is so hard to imagine her shooting heroin into her veins. She has attended a faith-based residential program three times. These weren’t three dropouts. This was three separate sessions. Because, as anyone who has been set free of the demon of addiction can tell you, it’s never a one and done situation. It is a life-long learning process. And she is committed.

A couple of days ago, Danielle took a plane to Hawaii to attend discipleship training. When she arrived, her luggage was somewhere in Dallas. When she got to the campus to check in, she found out there had been a miscommunication and she was short on funds…four figures short on funds. She reached out to her church family and we raised the funds in about three hours. There is no way to hide God’s work in this. And it is so obvious the enemy doesn’t like it. He tried to throw a wrench in the works at every turn but our God is a mighty God. It wasn’t long till the enemy was put in his place.

Last night, I watched War Room. I’ve always considered myself to be…if not a prayer warrior…then at the very least, a fervent prayer. Oh, my…that movie has me planning a War Room of my own! People like Danielle remind us of the power of prayer. I am so proud of her hard work and her willingness to keep plugging at this. I can’t wait to see what she learns in discipleship training. I cant wait to see what God has in store for her! I’m so happy God plucked her from the jaws of death because I know He has plans for her…to prosper her and not to harm her. ❤️

“I must go on boasting. Although there is nothing to be gained, I will go on to visions and revelations from the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know—God knows. And I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows— was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell. I will boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses.”
2 Corinthians 12:1-5 NIV

We Rise by Lifting Others Up

Thu, 03 Jan 2019 02:30:15 -0600

“Blowing out someone else’s candle won’t make yours shine brighter. Remember that.”

Have you ever had someone in your life that went out of their way to put you down? Of course you have. We all have. I was in a long term relationship that was like that. Comments like, “You aren’t wearing THAT are you?” “Well, THAT was stupid!” These things take a toll on you after a while. It took a long time, and a great deal of therapy, to learn those things were said by a person who was egotistical but still suffered emotional injuries from a less than demonstrative childhood.

It happened with my dad. It happened with most of the men I’ve been involved with. Men who suffer so they must make YOU suffer in order to feel better about themselves. The wounds run deep.

Mr. FixIt and I have a different kind of relationship than I’ve ever experienced. I am much more free to express my feelings with him than I have been with anyone else. I think part of that is age. Part is setting the ground rules early in the relationship that we can say anything. I’m still learning how to govern that. Too much freedom and some things come out sounding unkind. Many a truth was said in jest.

We rise by lifting others up. I know from experience what that constant needling feels like and I don’t ever want my sweetheart to feel less than loved to the max. At the same time, there are moments in any relationship when you have to blow off steam. That’s fine, as long as you fight fair. Life is just so darned short. I want to really live it…not walk on eggshells like I did in the past.

I pray every day that I will give my very best to my husband and my family, to my friends and acquaintances. I strive to be my best self, but I don’t beat myself up when I fall short. I just try again the next day. It’s called being human. ❤️

“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.”
Ephesians 4:29 NIV

Hope AND Joy!

Wed, 02 Jan 2019 02:30:31 -0600

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” - Paul Coelho

The other day I said my word for 2019 would be “Joy”. Then I decided it really should be “Hope”. Well, we all know it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind and I’ve decided to have TWO words this year…Hope AND Joy! No reason I can’t strive for both and they go hand in hand, right?

I was looking through my photos from the last year. I try to use my own photos for my blog but sometimes something comes along that I just need to share. That is the case in today’s meme.

One of the photos I saw yesterday as I was preparing to write this post was one of my sweet Uncle Bud, devoted husband of my Aunt Viv who died the day after Mr. FixIt and I got married. I was so worried about him the last couple of years. As Aunt Viv’s dementia worsened, he got less and less sleep and had absolutely no time to take care of himself. The last two years he also had the added responsibility of caring for his sister…the elderly aunt I originally came to West Virginia to try to help. I really hated that hers and my inability to get along added an extra burden on him, but it couldn’t be helped. She and I were oil and water. Or probably more accurate, gasoline and a match.

Every week, I called my Uncle Bud to see how he was doing. And all too often I suggested perhaps they should seek some sort of alternative to caring for both women in the home, virtually unassisted. And every time, he patiently replied, “We’ll see.” I realized long back, this is not my place to butt in, so I tried to stay out of it. I wasn’t always successful, but I tried.

When my aunt finally passed, I realized…that was his sweetheart. The love of his life. He took vows that he would love her and care for her in sickness and in health. While no one would have held it against him if he would have placed either of my aunts in a nursing home, this was just not the way he was raised and he has a huge heart. He simply could not do that for his wife. And now, I am sure, he will care for his sister as long as he possibly can.

When I came across a picture of my Uncle Bud yesterday, I had to smile. Here was this 80-something year old man whom I adore, hunched over his brand new smart phone. Apparently, someone felt it was time for him to ditch the old flip phone he’s been using forever and come into 21st century technology.

I can just imagine what he must think. I remember when I got my first laptop. I brought it to West Virginia to show my grandma. I signed up for AOL specifically so I could use the internet anywhere. I plugged it into her phone line and rang up the dialup modem. After the beeps and boops, up it popped. We sat there for hours looking up stuff. She was intrigued, but I don’t think it really sank in what she was looking at. It was all a mystery to her.

As I head into the new year armed with “HOPE” and “JOY”, I want to remember always that it is my example, not my opinion, that will change the world. It takes a village to change things. And if we all work together, we can raise the collective vibration of the planet to a place of awareness and peace. If we strive to go high when others go low, we can set our sites on a common goal…one of peace and mutual understanding. When we keep God at the center, he equips us with all we need to succeed. This is my prayer…my most fervent hope, in order to find infinite joy! ❤️

“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 GNB

Out With the Old...In With the New

Tue, 01 Jan 2019 02:30:18 -0600

“It was a foggy, rainy day in West Virginia for the last day of 2018.

My word for last year was “presence”. I think, overall, I did a pretty good job keeping my focus in the here and now. Nothing I can change in the past, and worrying about tomorrow is a complete waste of time. I know the other day I said my word for the New Year was going to be joy, but after giving it a great deal of thought, I decided “HOPE” was far more appropriate.

Hope is such a gift. I remember the first year after losing Mr. Virgo, I really felt hopeless. I really looked forward to the new year because I could say, “My husband died last year.” As if that sleight of hand would magically make everything better. It didn’t. And I was perplexed that it did not.

Hope. Hope is a gift from God. I have great hope…a seemingly endless supply. I have enough that I will share it by the bucketloads in the coming year. And, when I speak, I will be mindful to instill hope in others through my speech and actions.

A year is gone, another ushered in to replace it. May this be a year of peace, of love, of good health, and abundant hope. May you always have enough. ❤️

“Even those who are young grow weak; young people can fall exhausted. But those who trust in the LORD for help will find their strength renewed. They will rise on wings like eagles; they will run and not get weary; they will walk and not grow weak.”
Isaiah 40:30-31 GNB

Saying Goodbye to 2018

Mon, 31 Dec 2018 02:30:50 -0600

“A mother-daughter duo singing worship songs to close out the year.” Photo Credit: The Warehouse Church

We had a special celebration at church yesterday. Instead of having the kids over in their area, they joined the adults. And, instead of hearing a message from Pastor Justin, we ended the year with an hour of praise music and communion. It was a special treat to see the children of our worship team on stage singing with their parents. This little gal was amazing and it warmed my heart to watch her.

As the old year fades, we cannot help but look over the last twelve months and review what we have accomplished. It is easy to be critical of what we perceive as mistakes. The woulda-shoulda-coulda’s can creep in, and that really doesn’t serve us well. Looking back with a hopeful heart takes practice.

I was telling someone yesterday that I was glad to have 2018 over with. But when I really gave that some thought, I realized that’s just wishing your life away. There were some very sad things that happened this year, true. I lost three people I loved very much…all within two months. Their deaths saddened me greatly and I have learned enough about life to know…the greater the love, the deeper the grief. I was blessed to have these three in my life to love and love me back.

Then, there were all these health problems I had to deal with. They were a major pain, but when I look back I realize I was so blessed to have insurance. I know there are people who can’t afford to see a doctor and let medical issues go till it’s too late. I was blessed with knowledgeable physicians and excellent hospital care. I cannot complain.

The highlight of my year, of course, was getting married to my best friend. Mr. FixIt is my rock…my life partner…my playmate. My life is so much happier with him in it and I gained a bonus family!

So, I won’t wish away time. I will remember Aunt Viv, and my cousin Tom, and my “other-mother” Louisa with much love…keeping their memories alive by saying their names. And I will cherish the gifts God gives me daily…love, insurance, health, good doctors, a roof over my head, food on my table, a loving family, and a man who thinks the sun rises at my feet. As I head into the new year, I will tuck this one away with solemn gratitude.

❤️

“Praise the LORD, my soul, and do not forget how kind he is.”
Psalms 103:2 GNB

Gwendolyn’s Journey with Arthrogryposis

Sun, 30 Dec 2018 02:30:15 -0600

“Baby Gwen was born with arthrogryposis…a rare congenital anomaly that causes some joints in the body to be stiff and bent in odd directions.”

A few months ago, I asked you to pray for my friend’s little baby granddaughter and you all stood up and joined hands and prayed hard. Baby Gwen came into this world a beautiful little flower…but some of her petals were damaged. She has arthrogryposis…a rare congenital defect that affects multiple joints. There are typically joint contractures which may be stuck in one position. The muscles surrounding these joints may be weak, stiff, or even missing altogether. Little Gwen’s left leg was bent backwards and lay across her tummy. Her feet and hands are turned inward and her little chin is drastically receded.

“Her damaged petals are what made her more beautiful than all the other flowers.” A. J. Lawless

As Gwen has grown, some of these contractures have needed to be addressed more urgently. Because her lower jaw recedes, she cannot drink from a bottle. She eventually had a stomach tube placed to get tube feedings directly into her stomach. And, because she can’t swallow, her normal saliva can choke her to death. She has to have someone awake with her 24/7 in order to suction her airway when her secretions get in her way. Between her airway and tube feedings, physical therapy and doctor’s visits, little Gwen is more than a fulltime job. I’m telling you this though…God couldn’t have given her to a better family than the one she’s in.

“Gwen has had a series of casts placed on her legs to bring them down into position for surgical repair.”

The latest surgery was a tendectomy. This will clear the way for eventually walking. I know it’s hard to imagine her ever walking when you look at that newborn picture, but she has had a series of casts as well as the surgery and her legs are down much closer where they need to be. She is just now being able to coo and gurgle baby gibberish and it makes your heart soar when you see her in a video. Her huge, sensitive eyes look into your very soul. She is the sweetest little thing.

“Baby Gwen is fed through a tube placed surgically into her stomach because she cannot swallow well enough to eat.”

Gwen’s parents are young. Mommy had to quit her job to stay home with the baby. With all the expenses that go along with a situation like this, there is also a Go Fund Me page to help with daily expenses and challenges. I rarely share this kind of thing, asking for donations, but I know this family personally. They are a wonderful, close knit family who needs a little extra help. It’s the end of the year. If you find you need to donate a little more, or if the Spirit moves you, please consider helping this young family out.

“The muscles in Gwen’s arms and hands are weak and she is just now learning to ‘hold’ toys.”

You can find Gwendolyn’s story at:

https://www.facebook.com/GwendolynsJourney/

You can find their Go Fund Me page at:

https://www.gofundme.com/gwendolyn-strong

“I look forward to every post as I follow Gwendolyn’s Journey. This baby will never be told she can’t do something…they will just find a way.”

“As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been born blind. His followers asked him, “Teacher, whose sin caused this man to be born blind—his own sin or his parents’ sin?” Jesus answered, “It is not this man’s sin or his parents’ sin that made him blind. This man was born blind so that God’s power could be shown in him.”
John 9:1-3 ICB

Looking for the Light

Sat, 29 Dec 2018 02:30:33 -0600

“Looking for the Light”

In the next week or two, one after the other…folks will be taking down their Christmas lights. My goodness, I know people who take their decorations down as soon as the last present is opened! Me? Well, if I didn’t have to dust the darned thing, I’d leave my tree up all year. Oh, I love my tree! Mr. FixIt picked out two or three trees and sent me pictures of them when I was in Colorado that first Christmas we were dating. I chose the one I wanted and he picked it up on sale after the holidays. He’s such a good man!

Thankfully, we are past the winter solstice, and the days will incrementally reward us with more and more light. But it will be a while before we really notice it. Until then, I will hang on to my sweet, white lights on my tree. And my scented candles. And my battery operated candles that automatically turn on and off. And the little candles in each window that stay up all year. And the accent lamps. There are no curtains on the windows so I can squeeze out every moment of light every day. I crave light.

In the past, I have fallen victim to the habit of saying, “I hate winter!” “I hate the cold weather!” “I hate the snow!” Well, you know what? Whether I hate it or not, it is going to be here. Defeatist jargon steals joy. Either way, hate or joy, it’s still going to be dark and cold. So why not choose joy? Why not change the negative self chatter to something like…”There is joy in this moment.” There is joy in that sunbeam, no matter how briefly it shines. There is joy in the snow…no two snowflakes are alike. There is joy in the trees as they stretch their naked arms up into the sky, their roots settled in for a rest before they burst forth with their gift of green.

This transformation of my thinking doesn’t come in a straight line. I’ve found myself being decidedly grumpy occasionally over the last couple of weeks. Then I remember my word…presence…and I come back. It may be a forever battle, but my war cry will always be “Joy!”

That is my word for 2019. Joy!

“These people who live in darkness will see a great light. They live in a place that is very dark. But a light will shine on them.” Isaiah 9:1-2” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭ICB‬‬

My Hygge Christmas

Wed, 26 Dec 2018 02:30:40 -0600

“Mr. FixIt is a good gift giver…exactly what I would have picked out for myself!”

“Hygge is a Danish and Norwegian word for a mood of coziness and comfortable conviviality with feelings of wellness and contentment.” Wikipedia

I don’t think I have ever had a more relaxing Christmas Day in my life as I had this year. Mr. FixIt gave me Christmas jammies on Christmas Eve and I never changed out of them yesterday. I ate chocolate cake for breakfast. I knitted all day. I caught up with loved ones on the phone and via chat. Mr. FixIt and I watch movies all day. I ate leftover chili…and chocolate.

I was totally pleased with my gifts from my sweetheart. The sweater is the most gorgeous color, style, and fit. The book is something I really wanted. And the travel mugs are lovely. I think he’s setting me up for a winter of comfort! Exactly what I need after a long season of hard work keeping up two big properties. I have some projects to do this winter…writing, home, and business things. So, having this comfort break is just what the doctor ordered!

There are so many who are missing their loved ones this season. If your heart is screaming “he/she should be here!”…you are not forgotten nor are you alone. My heart is with you…I remember that pain and I pray for comfort for you and yours. ❤️

“I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live. The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came over me; I was overcome by distress and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the Lord: “ Lord, save me!” The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the unwary; when I was brought low, he saved me. Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. For you, Lord, have delivered me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living.”
Psalm 116:1-9 NIV

Christmas: A Season of Healing

Mon, 24 Dec 2018 02:30:33 -0600

“My Santa and Mrs. Claus”

Dear Santa,

This is the sixth Christmas without my Mr. Virgo. I know you remember the day I sat beside you in your great big comfy chair. It was that first awful Christmas after he died. I was crying and you saw me standing there alone. And that great big heart of yours was so soft…you moved over to make room for me and patted the seat, letting me know I should come sit for a while.

I was crying…trying so hard to regain my composure. You waited patiently for me to gather my wits about me. Finally, I leaned towards you. You leaned in to hear. “My husband died. I need a new heart.” I could almost hear your heart breaking for me. You put your arm around my shoulders and whispered back. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice was thick with emotion. You patted my back as my shoulders shook with sobs.

It wasn’t long till I got it together. I apologized for being such a mess. You said, “Nonsense. You’re perfect!” As I prepared to leave, you asked, “Won’t you have your picture taken with me?” My heart skipped a beat and for just a moment…a fleeting moment, I felt the joy of childhood as I nodded yes.

We took a photo, you and I…and we were bonded in that moment. I’ve written to you every year since that December day in 2013. I’ve related my progress as I’ve navigated this grief journey…my ups and downs. My successes and the stumbles. And here it is…2018…and have I got news for you!

I got married!!! Yes…it’s true! I came back to West Virginia two years ago. Along the way, I ran into my best guy pal from high school and, well…the rest is history! We were married in a field at his home. We were married by our lifelong friend…a pastor. And, Santa…he such a good man, my Mr. FixIt. We are two peas in a pod. He goes to church with me every Sunday. It is the first time I have been equally yoked in a marriage and it is amazing!

I just wanted to let you know I’m doing well. I still have moments where I experience grief. I always will…it is the price you pay for great love. I continue my mission of writing here and reaching others who are on the same journey. Thank you for being there for me that sad, sad day. Thank you for being my cheerleader. And thank you again…from the very bottom of my heart…for being real and asking Jesus to bring me a new heart. ❤️

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3 NIV

A Starting Point

Sun, 23 Dec 2018 02:30:42 -0600

“We found this channel on Dish Network that shows nothing but a wood burning fireplace with the snaps and pops. We had it on all afternoon while I knitted. It was awesome…and no dirt or smells!”

I was reading a tweet yesterday from a woman who struggled with an eating disorder. It embarrassed and frustrated her so every day she told herself, “Tomorrow, I will begin to address this and heal.” She told herself that for twenty years before she finally did something.

We are faced with situations all the time which need our attention and we justify waiting. People won’t get a housekeeper in to help till they get the house clean. I never understood that, because…isn’t that what you’re getting the housekeeper for in the first place? People won’t lose weight (myself included) because we’ll just wait till after Thanksgiving or after Christmas, or…or…or… The list goes on and on.

Faith. Faith can be a huge struggle. A lot of churches don’t seem to really welcome you till you look more like they do. Till you act more like they do. But what if you’re a jacked up dysfunctional human like so many of us? “Oh, I’ll go to church when I conquer this addiction.” “I can’t go to church…I don’t have good enough clothes to be seen with those nice people.” “They don’t want someone like me down there.” That’s the same as the housekeeper theory. It doesn’t make sense.

Mr. FixIt and I went to church last night for Christmas service and Pastor Justin gave three simple tips for getting started on whatever issue you are having…no matter how difficult it is.

Start where you are.

You don’t have to be a certain way or get to a certain place to get started. Just start…exactly where you are in the moment.

Use what you have.

Do you have a talent or skill? Use that. Use it to work or to reach a goal. Use it to bridge a gap between you and others.

Do what you can.

You don’t have to go on a mission to Africa or build a rocket ship. Lift people up where they are. Serve in whatever capacity you can. My mission is writing this blog and speaking to church groups. Yours might be knitting prayer shawls or painting a house for a shut-in.

These three steps can be used in every day life in every situation. From raising your kids to volunteering in retirement. Let’s enjoy the holidays, help others where we can, and plan on changing our little corner of the world in 2019. One builds on the next till we can’t help but lift each other up and make this a better place to live.

One way Mr. FixIt and I are going to increase our giving is a great idea I learned from Larry at the bowling alley. We see Larry at church often and he’s such a selfless giver. He told me he looks at all his $1.00 bills. In the circle on the left side is a letter. He saves the “J”, “G”, and “B” bills. Jesus, God, and Bible. Then he places one between each page of a bible and when the Bible is full, he presents it to the Pastor and they pray over it. It has become a ministry for him and Larry is now filling his fifth Bible. We picked up a Bible last night at church because we realized we need to start where we are, we need to use what we have, and we need to do what we can.

We went out to dinner after church and we were figuring the tip. Mr. FixIt was pulling out some ones and he found a “J” bill. I put my hand out and he smiled as he handed it over. We have our first bill in our Bible! ❤️

“In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.”
Psalm 5:3 NIV

Say “I Love You” With a Little Yarn & a Lotta Love

Tue, 18 Dec 2018 02:30:47 -0600

“Hand knitted dishcloth with the ASL sign for “I Love You” in the pattern.”

Yesterday’s post had me thinking about quick, last minute gifts for the holidays. I was in town Sunday afternoon so I stopped at Walmart and picked up some cotton yarn. Those cute patterns for dishcloths had me thinking I’d like to whip up some.

Mr. FixIt had to go to town yesterday to help a friend build something and do a little Christmas shopping. I elected to stay home. I asked Alexa to play “Soft Christmas Music”, turned up the stove in the family room, grabbed a cup of coffee, and curled up by the tree. I pulled up the fox fur blanket that I had made from the coat Mr. Virgo gave me years ago. And I set to knitting.

In the comments on yesterday’s post, my friend Jamie told me someone made her a dishcloth with the ASL symbol for “I Love You” knitted into it. I asked for the pattern and her friend sent the link. I still have the remnants of grief brain so I had to really concentrate on the pattern. I had to take out a row every now and then when I couldn’t remember where I was in the pattern. But before too long, I had one finished! I’ve started a second dishcloth from one of the pattern in the link I included yesterday.

The other day, Daughter #2 called and said she missed my cooking. I asked her what dish she loved the most. Turkey Tetrawhatzit…my version of Turkey Tetrazzini. So, before Mr. FixIt got home, I put some of the frozen turkey from Thanksgiving in a pot with a little water and simmered it till I could shred the meat with a fork. In an electric skillet, I sautéed half an onion, some sliced mushrooms and celery in a little butter. I added a drained can of mixed veggies. When the turkey was shredded, I tossed it in the skillet with about a pint of the drippings from the pan I roasted the turkey in. While that simmered, I cooked some egg noodles. I mixed up some flour in some of the broth and thickened the turkey mixture, stirred in a cup of sour cream, and brought it just to a simmer then added the drained cooked noodles. Topped with a little shredded Parmesan and…voila! Turkey Tetrawhatzit! Comfort food at it’s best…and it made me think of my daughter. Mr. FixIt said…”Send her a picture!” I did…then called her so she could “join us for dinner!”

It was a lovely day…peaceful, comforting, homey, warm with a big dash of “I Love You!” ❤️

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Psalms 23:6 ESV

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

Kitchen Comforts

Tue, 11 Dec 2018 02:30:08 -0600

“Mr. FixIt brought me roses.”

When I’m struggling with grief, a day in the kitchen does wonders for me. Mr. FixIt knew I hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights since learning the sad news of Miss Louisa passing away, so he was gracious and let me sleep in as long as I wanted to yesterday. I must say, when I awoke around 11:00, I did feel much better. I padded into the kitchen to make my coffee and greet my sweet man in the family room…steaming mug in hand.

I snuggled into the loveseat and wrapped my blue fox blanket around me. The Christmas tree was decorated and standing to my left in front of the big picture windows. The gas stove was cranked up and putting off some decent heat. The heavy frost still laid white on the grass and trees in my view. And, amazingly, the forsythia had several bright yellow blooms on them casting a stark contrast to the grey palette of December.

I sipped my coffee while Mr. FixIt read the paper. The TV droned quietly in the background…some fourteen year old was answering questions on a game show. I tuned it out as I stared at the decorations on the tree and took inventory of my feelings. The pain I felt when I heard the news of yet another loss was easing a little and shifting to the lonesomeness of not being able to pick up the phone and call whenever I want. It is familiar turf for me.

After a while, I sighed and went into the bedroom to dress. Mr. FixIt put on his insulated coveralls and went outside to work a while. I carried my second cup to the living room and sat down to knit on a pair of socks. I texted my friend Gail who is touring Europe to see how she is doing. My friend Janine sent me a text to remind me she was going live at 3:00CST. I put my phone away and turned Pandora to “Traditional Christmas.” I spent the next hour or so in quiet meditation, my hands wrapping the wool yarn around the needles with the muscle memory of a skill I learned in my youth.

I decided to mix up a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies and was pulling the last batch from the oven as Mr. FixIt came in from the cold. I turned on the kettle and he had a nice cup of tea as he ate a cookie, still warm from the oven. He watched me move around the kitchen, cleaning up the bowls and baking pans. I sensed his eyes on me. This is the relationship we delight in. I looked up from wiping the counter and he smiled.

“You treat me so well.”

I smiled back. A knowing smile. An appreciative smile. This is the part of him that is like Mr. Virgo. He loves and appreciates me and is quick to tell me. I love that.

“I like spoiling you,” I grinned. He laughed, gave me a little pat as he tucked his mug in the kitchen sink. He pulled up his coveralls and went back outside. I watched him as he walked out the door. How can a coverall make a man look that sexy? I smiled as I tucked the towel in the door handle of the oven and turned out the light. I had another hour to knit before I started supper.

When I was at the farm the other night, I brought home a pot roast from the freezer. When it was thawed, I cut it in cubes. I put about a cup of flour in a gallon ziplock bag with some salt and pepper and dropped in the cubed roast. I tossed the meat in the flour, rubbing the pieces through the bag to ensure they were well coated then dropped them into a hot skillet with a little oil in it. When the meat had been seared on all sides, I removed it and put it in my electric pressure cooker. I put in a can of beef broth and a can of water, replaced the lid and pressure cooked the roast for 55 minutes. Once it was finished, I let it cool for about twenty minutes without releasing the pressure. I released the pressure carefully and removed the lid. The meat bubbled in a nice thickened gravy and smelled divine. I poured the meat and gravy out into a large storage container and set it on the counter. When it was cool enough, I popped it in the fridge to be used during the week for meals and sandwiches.

Yesterday, I cooked up half a bag of egg noodles. I took out half the meat and gravy and placed it in a saucepan on low heat to warm up. I sautéed a whole package of sliced mushrooms in two tablespoons of butter. Everything was ready at the same time so I drained the pasta, and put it back in the pan, poured the beef and gravy in with the sautéed mushrooms and added 3/4 cup of sour cream. I gave it a quick stir and called Mr. FixIt to the table for supper.

A day like that is soothing to the spirit. It reminded me that, while I miss those I have lost, I have skills in place that I did not have when I lost Mr. Virgo. It is not lost on me that I have the added blessing of this sweet man to be my companion and helpmate to love and support me as I navigate the losses. I kind of feel like I’m cheating…I don’t have to grieve alone like I did when I became a widow. That kind of grief is so much harder than this. I am grateful. ❤️

“‘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

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Sat, 08 Dec 2018 02:30:55 -0600

“The Parkersburg High School Band - 1960’s”

This is the time of year where my Hallmark heart kicks in and I feel the feels…a lot! Anything makes me cry…especially sappy sentimental stuff. Yesterday would have been my second father-in-law’s birthday. I was very close to him and I wasn’t able to attend his funeral because I had just totaled my truck and had a subdural hematoma. I couldn’t fly. I really miss him. I have so many “Pop” stories. Since his birthday was December 7th, it often fell on Hanukkah and Christmas is right behind.

The subject of voicemails from our loved ones came up yesterday, as well. I texted Hubby #2 to tell him I was thinking of his dad. Then I remembered a video I have of Christmas 2009. I went back and watched it. There was seven beautiful minutes of Mr. Virgo and my grandchildren when they were so little. There were my daughters and son-in-law. There was my sweet brother. And…there was Pop! I watched it over and over. It made me smile and tugged at my heart strings at the same time.

Last night we were supposed to go to our graduating class Christmas Dinner. I didn’t feel real great yesterday morning yet I worked in the kitchen most of the day. By late afternoon, I was feverish and achy. We decided not to go and I hated that, but if you’re getting sick, it’s irresponsible to go out amongst the public. At first I was so hot I had to go outside and stand for a while. Then I couldn’t get warm and spent the rest of the evening under a pile of blankets. I felt a whole lot better by bedtime.

As I browsed on Facebook last night, I came upon this photo of the Parkersburg High School All Male Military Marching Band. No, there were no girls allowed back then. That changed after we graduated in 1971. This picture was taken back in the ‘60s. I remember my parents taking us downtown to watch the Christmas Parade. I remember these Christmas decorations hanging across the downtown streets. I remember the thrill of seeing and hearing this award winning band as they marched down the street in their crisp uniforms and clean white bucks. Their precision and military style brought a sense of patriotic pride. Again…pictures like this, at this time of year especially, bring a happy/sad mix of emotions that I can’t resist diving into.

I think today I will bake cookies and watch Christmas movies! I may even hang out in my jammies all day!!! ?

“That precious memory triggers another...” 2 Timothy 1:5 MSG

The Secret to a Good Relationship

Wed, 05 Dec 2018 02:30:43 -0600

“As you grow closer to God, you can’t help but grow closer to each other.”

A young man I barely know came up to me at church the other day. He knew Mr. FixIt and I had just been married. He was quite interested in knowing the secret to a good relationship. He wanted to know how you KNOW you have the right person.

One might not think I know the answers to those questions, given I just entered my fourth marriage. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Like maybe I don’t know what I’m doing. And, I suppose if you ask my two ex-husbands, they might agree with you. I would counter with a statement: I learned with the loss of each relationship. I learned to examine my own behaviors and contributions, or rather…lack of contribution…in each relationship. I learned about what I DIDN’T want in a relationship.

It doesn’t really benefit you to approach a new relationship with a look backward at what you didn’t like before. It does benefit you to look forward with an attitude of “How can I be the best spouse I can be without losing myself here?” I smiled at the young man and said…”I have the answer for you!”

He looked at me in surprise and payed very close attention.

I held up my hands, fingers and thumbs pressed together forming a triangle.

“Do you see this? This is your relationship. You are here. Your spouse is here.” I pointed to the base of either thumb.

I held up my left hand and said, “See? If you have God in your life, you work towards a good relationship with Him. You not only raise yourself up, but you move forward. The same goes with your spouse.” I held up my right hand to demonstrate.

“When you are married, and you put God first in your relationship, you each raise yourselves higher, but what happens to you individually?”

The young man broke into a huge grin. “You get closer to each other!”

“Yes! That’s exactly right! Do you see how simple that is? There’s no real secret here. Just keep God as the primary focus of your marriage, be the very best partner you can be, try to outlove each other, and He will take care of the rest. It’s nothing more than faith and physics!”

I gave the young man a pat on the back and headed on in to find Mr. FixIt and take my seat beside him as we put God first…this day and all days. ❤️

“He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord.”
Proverbs 18:22 NIV

Your Chance to Win a Camper!

Wed, 28 Nov 2018 02:30:15 -0600

“The Little Max by Liberty Outdoors”

My good friend, Janine Pettit, has gone camping since she was a little girl. When her kids were heading off to college, Janine decided to be an ambassador and help women learn everything they needed to know to get out and “Go Places and Do Things!”

I met Janine in the Spring of 2015 in Nashville. She had been a blogger for goRVing.com for quite some time, and asked if she could interview me. We had an instant rapport and I have subsequently appeared at least three times on her podcast talking about my journey.

One of the sponsors of the GirlCamper Podcast is Liberty Outdoors with their Max and Mini Max campers. This past summer, Liberty Outdoors loaned Janine a camper to haul around the country and give feedback on the design. After pulling this gorgeous little camper over 10,000 miles across 14 states. She camped over 60 nights this summer! And now, it’s YOUR chance to own this little beauty!

Liberty Outdoors has generously donated this Mini Max to the Hold You Foundation, a non-profit that assists parents in making ends meet when they are caring for a seriously ill child. The camper is being raffled off and you can buy a ticket by clicking on the following link. Who know? This little beauty just might end up being yours!

Fingers crossed!

girlcamper.com/mini-max-…

“Abraham traveled from there south to the Negev and settled down between Kadesh and Shur. While he was camping in Gerar, Abraham said of his wife Sarah, “She’s my sister.””
Genesis 20:1 MSG

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Tue, 27 Nov 2018 02:30:19 -0600

“My favorite ornament from childhood.”

I heard a mother comforting her child once. The little one was crying about something that had happened earlier. The mother said, “Oh…are you remembering how you were sad earlier?” I loved that. She wasn’t dismissing the child’s feelings and at the same time, she was teaching her “It’s not happening to you now. It’s just a memory.”

As we were decorating the tree yesterday, I was hanging the special ornaments Mr. Virgo and I purchased together. I felt a melancholy come over me. And, as this is what I do, I examined the feelings and let myself feel them. Then I remembered the mother comforting her child and I smiled. The melancholy I felt wasn’t sadness in the moment. It was holding the items we cherished and remembering how sad that first Christmas was after he died.

Grief is quicksilver. It rolls around and shape shifts through time. And, once you get to a certain point, the weight shifts forward. It doesn’t drag you back so hard. When I first started to notice that pattern shift, I didn’t trust it. I’d had far too many instances of stepping on the rake in the tall grass. Once I experienced this new space where grief stays put…at least most of the time…I could start living again and looking forward.

This ornament was my favorite as a little girl. I have several of my mom’s ornaments and I think of the little house on the corner where we lived. I think of the farmhouse where we spent Christmas morning with my grandparents just once or twice that I can remember. We’ll go out to the farm this week and decorate and stay a few days, I think. I don’t dread Christmas anymore. I never understood my great grandfather when he would say, “It’ll stop hurting when the pain goes away.” I always thought that was just a silly thing he said. But, in the context of grief, it makes perfect sense. It DOES stop hurting when the pain goes away. ❤️

“...The minute I said, “I’m slipping, I’m falling,” your love, GOD, took hold and held me fast. When I was upset and beside myself, you calmed me down and cheered me up.”
Psalm 94:16-19 MSG

A Tale of Thanksgiving

Sun, 25 Nov 2018 02:30:59 -0600

“Thanksgiving Turkey”

Multiple trips to the store.

Two turkeys because the frozen one refused to thaw.

Two full days cooking.

A fifteen minute feeding frenzy in which 90% of the food was devoured.

Followed by three hours cleaning the kitchen.

I am thankful for the following things.

Thanksgiving only comes once a year.

And…

Thanksgiving only comes once a year.

❤️

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”
Colossians 3:17 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

The Comforts of Home

Sun, 18 Nov 2018 02:30:33 -0600

“Knitting, Football, and a Fire…it doesn’t get much better than that!”

I rarely ever sit down and watch a football game with Mr. FixIt. Football never really held my interest till Mr. Virgo patiently explained the game to me. He and I used to watch football all the time. But TV hasn’t been very high on my list of things to do since he died so I usually find something else to occupy me while Mr. FixIt watches…especially his beloved Mountaineers. He’s a diehard WV fan. And, as I found out yesterday…he really is not an Ohio State fan.

Mr. FixIt gets verbal when he watches football. He doesn’t curse and throw things at the TV, but he gets pretty loud. I had a lot of fun knitting yesterday while he cheered. Having a day to stop doing all the fussy work around the house and sit down with a good cup of coffee, something fun to knit, and a warm fire while watching football is a perfect day in my book.

We drove over to the store at halftime to get something to fix for dinner. I was walking through the produce section and thought to myself, “Taco salad sounds great for supper!” I turned to Mr. FixIt and before I could open my mouth and ask him what sounded good, he turned to me and said, “You know, taco salad sounds great for supper.” I had to think for a second. Did I say that out loud? Nope…we are just that attuned to each other. When we were first dating, he texted me one morning and said, “How does that bagel taste?” I nearly choked on said bagel as I read the text.

When we are apart, he texts me within two minutes of my waking up. I asked him one time how he knew I just woke up. He said he can feel it. I love that. I love that deep connection you only get when you truly know someone. When we have had that, and lost it, it’s so easy to tell yourself you will never have that again. I vowed I would never do this again. Not only because I didn’t think anyone would want me, but also because I wasn’t sure I could top Mr. Virgo. That was early on. Now I know better. It’s not a competition. It’s not ever a question of which love is better. Which husband is better. I know a man who was dating sometime after his wife had died. He and the new woman had gotten to “I love you” in their relationship. Then one day she asked him if he loved her more than his late wife. Holy cats!!! What a terrible thing to ask someone. As you may well imagine, that was the end of that.

Lazy Saturdays…one of life’s little pleasures. And, it’s free! ❤️

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” Ephesians 5:25 NIV

Grief is a Crucible

Sat, 17 Nov 2018 02:30:37 -0600

“Grief is a crucible…you come out entirely changed by the process.”

I was interviewed yesterday for an article for a major financial company. The topic was whether widows find navigating finances difficult in grief. I asked her how long she had to discuss this and suggested she put on a pot of tea. For me, dealing with finances was one of the most difficult aspects of my grief process aside from the fact my husband died. I was terribly unprepared and totally unknowledgeable.

I’m the first to admit I was a spoiled princess. Money was always the source of arguments in my house growing up so that carried over into my marriages. Being the wife of a doctor, money wasn’t really tight. I had a checking account that wasn’t really monitored. What I thought was just “not worrying” turned out to be “highly irresponsible.” Mr. Virgo and I had separate accounts and we both had good jobs. I just didn’t worry about it. I’d ask his opinion. I had a financial advisor but he wasn’t necessarily overly involved. I just left my IRA with him and hoped for the best.

Mr. Virgo often commented that I should find a different advisor because he didn’t think the guy was doing much for me. But, since it was my money from my divorce, he left it to me to make my own decisions. Money talk makes me highly uncomfortable so I decided the devil you know is better than the one you don’t. It was easier to just stay where I was. An ostrich with my head in the sand.

Then the unthinkable happened. You are never prepared entirely. I sure could have been more knowledgeable though. A friend suggested a Christian financial advisor. After meeting with her, I moved my IRA over and started learning about being a responsible steward for the gifts God gave me. This is what the journalist and I discussed during the interview.

We talked about some of the difficult decisions I had to make. Selling the house was major. Getting rid of 95% of my personal belongings and downsizing from a three bedroom house into a thirty foot camper was a challenge. Traveling across the country and trying to help my elderly aunt was difficult. Whenever I am interviewed about the early period of grief, it really strikes me how much territory I have covered since Mr. Virgo died.

The first thing I did when I hung up the phone was text my girlfriends and remind them to have that difficult conversation about end of life decisions. Know where everything is. Have a notebook with all the accounts and passwords. If you go over to my website, there is a link there where you can purchase an excellent book called The LastingMatters Organizer by my friend, Barb Sedoric. I wish I would have had something like this before I so unexpectedly became a widow.

Do you know what a crucible is? When you have raw ore, you place it in a crucible and heat it up to ultra high temperatures. This burns off the impurities and leaves you with something stronger, better, precious. Grief is a crucible that turned my gritty “sand” into colorful glass that reflects the light in a million different directions. It’s not till I’m forced to turn around and look that I can see how far I’ve come. ❤️

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2 NIV

The Art of Giving

Thu, 15 Nov 2018 02:30:37 -0600

“Shopping for warm blankets with my small group.”

I love this time of year. However, the first Christmas after Mr. Virgo died, I was so incredibly lost. I went to Denver to be with my family because I couldn’t bear to be alone. I think that’s pretty common among those who have lost a spouse.

The holidays were so special to my late husband. He lived for Christmas especially. He planned all year. He paid attention to what I needed or wanted and he was incredibly generous with gifts…too much so, really. But it gave him such joy to see the look on my face when I opened something from him. He just wanted to keep seeing that look.

That first lonely Christmas, one of the layers of the onion peeled back and revealed my days of receiving his well thought out gifts were over and it was just another beautiful thing torn from my life. I was bereft. I wanted something special from him, and since that was impossible, I decided to do something special for me.

I was driving down a busy Denver street the week before Christmas when I felt the gentle nudge of the Holy Spirit.

“There…go there.”

I looked to the right and it was Walmart. I dutifully turned in and parked. As I was walking in, I heard….

“Pay it forward.”

I went to the layaway desk and inquired how I could pay off someone’s layaway. Unfortunately, they had called in the layaways the week before so whatever hadn’t been paid for was returned to the shelves. Not to be deterred, I went to the ATM, withdrew some money, bought a card, and sat down to write a note in it. I told the recipient about this gentle man who loved Christmas and the joy of giving. I told whoever was going to receive this that I was giving them what he would have given me. Then I sat down on the bench at the front of the store and waited for the next instructions.

“Go back there. To the left…you’ll find them there.”

I headed for the back left and found the toy department. I wandered around and saw several shoppers but none stood out. I went around the corner of an aisle and there they were. A young mom and dad. They pulled a toy from the shelf, looking hopeful. Then they looked for the price, looked at each other, looked defeated, and put it back. They did this several times as they moved slowly down the aisle. There was very little in their cart.

I roamed back and forth, acting like I was very interested in something, but all the while trying to listen without being too obvious. What I wanted was for the woman to wander away from her bag for a moment so I could slip the envelope in and be on my way with the young couple none the wiser. She was a smart girl…she never left her bag for a moment. Finally, I decided I just had to move forward or I was going to look like a crazy stalker.

I walked up to the woman and said, “Here. I think this is yours.” I handed her the envelope with the bills stuffed inside. She was puzzled. She looked up from the envelope and our eyes met. I smiled warmly, pulled her to me in a mom hug, and whispered, “Merry Christmas.” Then, before she could let it register, I turned on my heel and walked away straight out of the store, without looking back.

I got to the car and my knees were shaking. I would have loved to have seen her face. But then she would have wanted to thank me or maybe even refuse the gift. Neither of which I wanted. I put the car in gear and headed to meet my family knowing I had shared something special with someone who needed it. I remember when I was a poor, single mom…trying to do the best for my own little one with very, very little resources. It felt good to give.

The church I attend is huge, so in order to have that sense of a “church family”, we have small groups that meet for several weeks per session. The group I belong to has such amazing, strong Christian women. We are in a chat group and we offer prayers and support to each other as we share and learn and grow in the Lord.

This year, our Pastor challenged the groups to find a service project and complete it by the end of the session. We couldn’t decide on just one so we supported two. The Women’s Care Center and the Mission for the homeless. Last night we met at a discount store in town and loaded three shopping carts full to overflowing. We bought children’s clothes, long john’s, hats, and 20 blankets and wheeled our purchases to the foyer. There, we stood around the carts and placed our hands on the bounty and prayed…out loud, in the store, in front of God and everybody. We asked for God to bless these items that they would doubly warm the recipients. We asked that they feel God’s love for them when they wrap themselves in the blankets. Then we headed for the mission.

“The bounty!”

When we came in, laden with bag after bag of stuff, the man behind the desk said, “What have we here?”

“Blankets! From The Warehouse Church!!!” We said, in unison.

“Oh, my gosh…that’s exactly what we needed. I ran out of blankets this evening!”

I smiled. I kinda felt Mr. Virgo grinning…poking me in the ribs.

“See, babydoll! That’s what I’m talkin’ about. It’s better to give than to receive. Giving is an art form.”

Yes…I do love this time of year. ❤️

“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. As it is written: “They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor; their righteousness endures forever.”” 2 Corinthians 9:7-9 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

Triggers: Learning to See

Mon, 12 Nov 2018 02:30:17 -0600

“Triggers are sounds, smells, or sights that bring back traumatic memories.”

According to GoodTherapy.org, a trigger in psychology is a stimulus such as a smell, sound, or sight that triggers feelings of trauma. People typically use this term when describing post traumatic stress disorder. (PTSD) This reminder can cause a person to feel something as innocuous as sadness clear across the spectrum to a full blown panic attack.

The first time I remember being triggered was when I lived in England. I was on the military base with my husband and was pregnant with my first child. This was a very large base with hundreds of buildings and lots of things to do. Occasionally, a military base goes on lockdown if there has been some sort of threat. On this particular day, there was an alarm and the gates were closed and locked. No one could get in or out.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I had this terrible feeling of being trapped and that caused me to go into full on panic mode. Hubby #1 had to talk me off the ledge. It wasn’t until twenty years later when I was in therapy that I finally figured out what that was all about. I was trapped in a garage and sexually assaulted when I was 8 years old. Ever since then, being someplace where I can’t get out fast triggers my memory of that trauma.

The first trigger I experienced after losing Mr. Virgo was at a summer fair. A man next to me started choking. Like…Heimlich Maneuver choking. Instead of seeing the man and helping (as I have been trained to do) I froze and had a flashback. It was literally like someone dimmed the lights and turned the movie on and I was watching Mr. Virgo getting CPR again. It was brutal. I later discovered it was PTSD and had EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy.

I have had several sessions of grief therapy and it’s been well over five years now since Mr. Virgo died. I don’t have nearly the negative response to triggers that I used to have. But triggers are still there and can still trip me up. It’s usually when I’m tired or sick or when they come in clusters. That’s what happened recently.

Here I am, newly married and happy as a clam. All the running around and planning and fixing up the home place for the wedding wore me out. The day after our wedding, my aunt died. Several friends either were desperately ill or lost close members of their family. Trigger after trigger kept coming. I could see a dark wave in the distance. I recognize a grief wave when I see one now because I can identify triggers. I couldn’t do that early on. It’s one of the benefits of good therapy, time, and distance.

Instead of sinking down under a blanket of sadness, I went to the farm and had some quiet time. I cuddled up under the blankets in my grandma’s bed. I listened to the sounds of the old farmhouse that has become such an old friend. I invited the dark wave to come closer and as it did, I practiced a mental exercise. I gathered up buckets of dark, foamy grief and handed them to Jesus. Bucket after bucket after bucket…I let it go right past me, right through me, instead of drowning me. I talked my way through it. I acknowledged that triggers come and I don’t have to succumb to the pain anymore. I don’t have to carry the weight of that burden anymore. I don’t have to feel desperate and panicky anymore.

Being at this point was something I couldn’t even imagine five years ago. Having this level of strength and peace was something I never dreamed I could attain four years ago. Three years ago…two years ago…I was beginning to see. I was beginning to have hope. I will never be the same as I was before the traumas I have suffered. I will continue to evolve and learn and grow. I have learned to turn stumbling blocks into stepping stones. This is one of the gems I found in the flames of grief. ❤️

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV

Remaining Hopeful in a Hopeless World

Fri, 09 Nov 2018 02:30:21 -0600

“When the news is on fire, how do you stay hopeful?”

We awoke yesterday to the news of yet another mass shooting. We are only three days out from another season of hateful politics. Glaciers are melting and species are disappearing. Computers can generate images that are easily passed off as truth. China just released the first AI news anchor. There will come a time when we won’t be able to tell what’s real and what isn’t. There’s so much death and destruction, murder and mayhem, and just pure evil in this world. How do you remain hopeful in a world like this?

I was reading some comments yesterday on a news post. One after another, people expressed hopelessness. I just read that a college student was supposed to go to the place in Thousand Oaks but she had homework. As a child, she went to a school in Colorado where a gunman broke in, took hostages, and eventually killed a girl then himself. She asked her mother why death followed her so much. There were people at the dance hall who had been at the concert in Vegas that was attacked. How on earth do you remain hopeful in circumstances like this?

Compound all this with grief and it is SO easy to become hopeless. To succumb to sadness and depression. I mean, here I am…the perennial cheerleader…the veritable Pollyanna, as Mr. Virgo called me. I’m weary of all this negativity. It’s beyond negative. It’s evil.

I can’t just stick my head in the sand. I can’t stick my fingers in my ears and yell “LA LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” I can’t cover my eyes and pretend I don’t see what’s going on. That isn’t productive. It isn’t healthy. And it’s not realistic. Granted, I don’t watch TV so one might say I am practicing avoidance. I say I’m being selective. I choose my media outlet based on who I feel gives the most fair and unbiased news reporting. I cross check sources and references. I Google things I am skeptical about. I practice critical thinking. En masse. It’s tedious. It’s time consuming. But it’s the only way I can keep my senses from being barraged and eventually overwhelmed.

I look at the world through the lens of my faith. I am a Christian. And I am a Liberal Democrat. I have not looked up the statistics, but I am sure I am in the minority…looked at distrustfully by both sides. And therein lies the problem. Sides. Division. US against THEM. Divisiveness is encouraged. Chaos is a smokescreen. The enemy is very, very busy now.

When I find myself feeling mired down by all the hatred in the world, I remind myself…I’ve read the Book. I know how this story ends. The light prevails over darkness. Faith, hope, and love. God tells us love is everything. It is behind every commandment. We are to love God with every ounce of strength we have. And, we are to love our fellow man as we love ourselves.

The enemy whispers doubts and delusions. Yes. There are evil things happening. Yes, there is darkness all around. But, I can put light out there. I can find ways to bring God’s light into the world. I can carry the love of Jesus in my heart and let Him shine through my thoughts and actions. And if I can do that, others can do that. The enemy wants me to believe I am the only one trying to make the world a better place. He says things like, “Why are you even bothering?” He is whispering lies meant to break me, to discourage me. But I won’t be discouraged. I’ll WALK STRONG as long as there is a breath in me. I will always look up. I will seek God’s face. I will ask for his comfort and guidance. I will pray for discernment to show me what is true and what is not. But most of all, I will trust Him. Because of His promises to me. He has never, EVER failed me. And that, my friends, is how I remain hopeful in this fallen world. ❤️

“If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you.” Proverbs 25:21-22 NIV

Living in a Small Town in the Hills

Tue, 06 Nov 2018 02:30:49 -0600

“The colors are a bit past their prime, but still lovely.”

I am from West Virginia originally. I was raised about 30 miles from where I’m standing at this moment. My grandparents’ farm is 22 miles away. Both much shorter “as the crow flies”. I left here when I was nineteen years old and lived first in England for two years then Colorado for forty. It wasn’t until Mr. Virgo died that I headed back to my roots in these beautiful hills.

My first year was spent out at the farm on seventy-four acres. You talk about quiet and peaceful. Other than the oil and gas traffic on the road, it’s dead out there. The little store closed this summer. The only thing open now is the tiny post office.

“Fall decor lines the driveway.”

I remember when I was married to Hubby #2, the doctor. I lived a different life then than anything my family could even approach experiencing in terms of finances and the ability to experience travel. I was talking with one of my high school sister/friends one night and apparently I was acting in a way which warranted a dressing down. She reminded me, in no uncertain terms, where I started out in life and not to be so snooty. She was absolutely right. I had gotten a tad big for my britches.

Widowhood changed me in many ways…not the least of which was living a small, quiet life in a camper with only 5% of my belongings dragged with me. Moving to the farm was a continuation of the much simpler, more humble, and highly satisfying life I have come to know since my return to my roots. And now, I’ve married into this sweet little town I’ve come to love.

I went to the Post Office yesterday to pick up the mail held for us. As I stood in line, the two women at the front wrapped up a conversation as the clerk called her name.

“I hope we run into each other again real soon!”

“”Well, lets just plan on lunch so we don’t have to leave it to chance!”

“That’s great!”

Hugs.

“You tell your mama hey for me, will ya’?”

“Sure will!”

My heart smiled. I picked up my mail and headed to the local mom and pop grocery store. I was standing at the meat counter waiting for the gal to weigh out my two pounds of fresh ground hamburger and slice the Colby Longhorn cheese I’m so fond of. An older woman came up to the counter, walking gingerly.

“Whoooo-ooooo! Honey, it’s gonna rain tomorrow. I can guarantee it. My joints are hurtin’ me somthin’ awful today. I tell my son, I say…’Boy…don’t you go huntin’ tomorrow ‘cause it’s gonna rain!’ He listens. He’s a good boy.”

My heart smiled even bigger.

The gentleman from behind the meat counter went up to run the second register during the “big rush” at 4:00. He’s one of two brothers who own the store.

“How have you been doing today?” He reminds me of a preacher. Clean cut, kind to a fault.

“Great! We just got home from our honeymoon last night!” I said.

“Wonderful, wonderful! And where did you go?” His smile was warm and engaging.

I told him we started out with the WVU - Baylor game then headed to Colonial Williamsburg and on to the beach.

“Oh, I remember a trip to Williamsburg when I was in Junior High. What a beautiful place that is. And what beach did you go to?”

“We went to Salvo and got a beach house.”

“Oh, that’s just fine. I’m so happy for you!” He didn’t miss a beat as he continued to check me out, take my payment, and sack up my purchase. The only thing missing was an apron and a garter on his sleeve….maybe sawdust on the floor, penny candy and pickles in barrels by the door.

I do so love living in a small town. I am not lacking for anything. This is the life I’ve wanted for at least the last thirty-five years. I was telling Mr. FixIt last night what all I would have wanted to do had we married at 35 instead of 65. I would have had chickens…goats…rabbits…and a barn. Maybe a milk cow. There would have been barn cats and a trusty dog.

There are five beautiful, flat acres here…plenty of room to have that hobby farm I always dreamed of. I think I’m past all that now. Oh, I could still do most of that, but it doesn’t make a bit of sense to invest a bunch of money in fencing and structures at our age. We have different interests now…like, traveling, camping, and not being tied down by animals.

“The neighbor came and brush hogged the back acre.”

No, this life is perfect just the way it is. Our tractor was delivered today after getting warranty repairs. They just don’t make things like they used to. The guy that brought it out to the Ponderosa showed us how cheaply the wheel sprockets are made. He says they have replaced a lot of them. I went out in the field and mulched most of the leaves that fell in that section. Mr. FixIt lined all the pumpkins and gourds from the wedding all along the driveway. The mums in the backyard are already well past their prime. The leaves are still brightly colored but we are rapidly hitting “past peak” status.

We are already making plans for Thanksgiving and before you know it, Christmas will be here, as well. Even though our lives have a tendency to get busy and hectic, especially in mowing season, there is plenty of downtime to reflect on our many blessings. I hope you all are having a wonderful day! ❤️

“Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so.” Genesis 1:11 NIV

Adding to My Yarn Stash!

Sat, 03 Nov 2018 01:30:50 -0600

“Yarn is one thing I am willing to accumulate. I love knitting socks as gifts and the Lord loves a cheerful giver!”

There are very few things I will buy anymore. Besides food and the occasional piece of clothing, I just do not shop like I used to. Working so hard at downsizing, and going through the emotional roller coaster that caused, keeps me from accumulating too much. One place I do add is yarn for socks.

Once I closed my needlework shop in 2006, I really didn’t do any stitching or knitting. I burned out on fiber arts because it became “work” for me. It wasn’t fun anymore. Then, after losing Mr. Virgo, I just couldn’t concentrate enough to focus on anything as intricate as a pattern. I couldn’t even read a book. My creativity had suffered a fatal blow when grief took over my brain.

When we were down here at the Outer Banks last spring, I went into a wonderful yarn shop in Kitty Hawk called Knitting Addiction. ( knittingaddiction.com ) I explained that I hadn’t knitted in a long time but that I had made socks before. I really enjoy them because they are a fairly quick project I can work on while we travel. It’s easy to knit on them in the warm months of the year because they are small and you don’t get overheated. And, they look pretty darned impressive when you are finished. They make a nice gift, too.

I was really excited when they predicted rain for yesterday because I told Mr. FixIt the first rainy day of this trip would be our exploration day. Our first stop was Stack ‘em High…our favorite pancake place down here. As soon as we were adequately stuffed, we headed to our favorite antique store and browsed around. Again, I like to look…not buy. Unless it’s a good bargain on a quilt. That I will usually spring for. I love quilts.

When we finished at the antique store, we headed straight to Knitting Addiction. Mr. FixIt has learned to leave me to my own devices in a yarn shop because I love to walk around and feel the yarns, examine the contents, browse the patterns, and see what kind of new fibers and colors are available. I was happy as a clam. I chose several skeins and had a lovely chat with the shop owner. It pleased me to see her doing well after suffering a couple of big losses last year. Her partner and her beloved dog both passed. She had a new rescue dog…a sweet but slightly skittish mutt named Carolina Jane. Carolina came from an abusive home so she is quite leery of humans…especially men. This is her forever home and she is blossoming from all the love that is being showered on her every day.

There was a second yarn shop I didn’t know about further down the island, but the selection was much smaller. There was the addition of some cross stitch patterns featuring local attractions like lighthouses, but for some unexplainable reason, one corner was filled with kitchen stuff. I did buy two skeins of sock yarn there, as well.

I’m pretty much set for knitting material for the winter now. I wish I could knit really fast and get a bunch of socks made by Christmas, but I don’t see that happening. I love giving them away as gifts because they are always appreciated.

Today is our last full day at the beach. We usually drive home all in one day when we head back. It will be raining again today so we are heading to a lighthouse down the island from here. Mr. FixIt’s son-in-law passed away a year ago June and his ashes have been spread at the beach down there. We are going to pay our respects. Mr. FixIt is really good about visiting with people who have died so he will introduce me to George today. Then we will come back and start packing so we can get an early start tomorrow. The week flies way too fast when you come to the beach.

Oh, and don’t forget to set your clocks back tonight! If not, you’re going to be sitting in the parking lot at the church for an hour in the morning. ❤️

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

Photographic Memories

Wed, 31 Oct 2018 01:30:08 -0600

“Fishing on the OBX”

Mr. Virgo was quite the photographer. He left me with so many beautiful photos that he took of wildlife. Not to mention so many of the beautiful places we visited together. I cherish those. I really have so few photos of him. It seems he was always the one behind the lens.

It reminds me of a morning shortly after we were married. I was in the bathroom getting ready for the day. My hair was a mess, I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed my face. I was just standing there looking at my reflection in the mirror…white robe tucked around me, half-lidded eyes, in desperate need for coffee. The house was still. I wondered where he was, when…..click.

He looked up from the viewfinder with such a sweet smile on his face when I whirled around…fire in my eyes. I gave him a short “OMGosh! What are you doing? I’m a mess!” I immediately regretted that when I saw the crestfallen look on his face…the hurt in his eyes.

He rarely took photos of me after that. And certainly not impromptu, candid shots that I wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t till he was gone that I realized it went so much deeper than just snapping a photo.

He thought I was beautiful.

He saw my beauty when all I could see were flaws. I denied him the pleasure of capturing something he loved to see. Of doing something he loved to do.

I learned from that. I’ve learned that if my sweet Mr. FixIt turns the camera in my direction I won’t care what I look like because he sees something I have learned to see for myself these last five or so years. He sees the lines on my face that mean I have had so many opportunities in my life to smile. He sees depth in my eyes that comes from love and loss. He sees silver in my hair that says I’m a wiser woman than I was with Mr. Virgo.

Please don’t fuss when someone wants to take your picture. They want to capture what THEY see…what THEY want to remember about you. Let them. Give them that gift. Unless you’re doing a photo shoot for Vogue, which I very much doubt, what harm is there in messy hair or bleary eyes? They see you through the soft lens of love. What a beautiful thing is that? ❤️

“You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.” The Song of Solomon 4:7 ESV

#Grief & #Love

Tue, 30 Oct 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“Mr. FixIt fishing on the Outer Banks.”

This man. This love. There was a tipping point in my grief. That point where you cross a raging river and the bridge collapses after you. You can’t go back. And, once you’ve lived in the new place a while, you know things have changed in your heart. That other place isn’t your home anymore. This is where you belong. Where you were meant to be. The whole exercise made possible because of the sum of your experiences.

Do I wish Mr. Virgo hadn’t died? Of course I do. But I live in this world now. This life. This is the phoenix rising.

This man. This love. ❤️

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.” 1 John 4:7 ESV

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

Be a Way Maker

Mon, 22 Oct 2018 01:30:14 -0600

“These boots are made to make a way.”

My new husband and I laughed when the name of yesterday’s sermon flashed on the large screen behind Pastor Justin. “The Honeymoon is Over!” Our knowing glance at each other said, “Oh, if he only knew!”

The pastor’s message was actually quite timely. The Warehouse Church was founded a little over three years ago with just 127 people. Here we are now with around 1500 people who attend regularly. The numbers fluctuate continually as some people leave and others come.

It’s just like any relationship. Those things that attracted you and caused great excitement early on eventually become irritating thorns in your side. You become critical of the very thing that brought you joy in the first place. The same can happen in a church. If you go to church to occupy a seat and be spoon fed a message, you are missing the message entirely. If you are there for the entertainment factor, you are missing a wonderful opportunity to be more Christ-like.

Jesus didn’t walk around pounding his message into people. He was there to make a way for others to reach God and experience salvation. He didn’t gather holy men around him to sing His praises. He gathered the misfits and misunderstood around him and challenged them to go out into the world and reach more, and more, and more.

I left the church at the ripe old age of seven because of a Bible-thumping preacher who screamed and jumped up and down trying to scare me into finding Jesus by promising Hell and eternal damnation. I actually came to be saved through a loving couple who made a way for me to walk in a relationship with Jesus. I was lured with love, not fear.

I want to be a Way Maker. I want to be that friend that invites you to find the same joy I have found in my salvation. I want to walk along side you so that some day you to might have this same relationship with a God who loves you and only wants to draw you near Him. Then, you may, come in, be saved, learn to serve, and go out and invite, and offer a hand, and invite someone in who might be saved and learn to serve, and who will go out and invite and offer a hand and….

You get the picture? It’s love that changes lives. Not force-feeding and fear. Our church accepts you no matter where you are on your path. We don’t care what you look like, who you are, how you smell, what you are doing, how you are living, or where you’ve been.

You may feel there is no way for you. But God makes a way when there is no way. And He uses us to be His hands and feet on the ground. I’m here and I’m willing. These boots were made for walkin’ and I’ve got miles to go and people to meet. ❤️

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:19 NIV

Live a Good Life

Sun, 21 Oct 2018 01:30:04 -0600

“Live a Good Life”

When we were decorating the tent for the wedding, I went around the house, the buildings, and the farm looking for decor I could use. There was so much more I could have put out there, but frankly, I realized we were just going to have to haul it all back into the house afterwards. I decided to just keep it simple.

I was standing in the kitchen giving some last minute directions to my wonderful friend, Charlotte, when I looked up above the kitchen sink and saw this sign. I took it down and handed it to Mr. FixIt and said, “This goes out by the front of the tent to greet our guests!” It’s our daily reminder to “Live a Good Life.”

This has been the busiest, jam packed week we have had since we started dating. So much has happened, I’ve really just started processing it all. Aside from the changes that come with marriage, and the death of a dear family member, something else has been rattling around in my head wanting attention.

It wasn’t so much what WAS there. It was more…what WASN’T there. Namely, that dogged undercurrent of grief that has simmered just beneath the surface of my life for the last 2,049 days. I know grief is not something you “get over”. I know it’s something you “get through”. It is something you learn to walk around without falling into that giant hole in your heart. It is something you learn to deal with in time. I honestly had no idea it would change with the commitment of another marriage.

It seems the act of marrying has caused a…shift in the force, so to speak. Maybe it’s the high of the wedding itself, but I don’t think so. Maybe it’s a gift from God for being obedient. Maybe it’s a natural progression of things when significant life changes occur. Maybe it’s just the Evolution of Grief.

When there are significant milestones in life, like your child’s wedding, or the birth of a grandchild, and your person isn’t there, it causes their death to come front and center. You think about how much he would have loved to see that. How much your son or daughter misses their dad. How your grandchild will never know that grandparent. It reminds you of an emptiness.

That was totally missing last weekend.

Oh, I thought of Mr. Virgo that day. Of course I did. I even had a quiet moment before the wedding when I silently thanked him for having been in my life. However, I wouldn’t have been getting married that day if he were still alive. And, I love Mr. FixIt SO much. I can’t imagine my life without him. It wasn’t like I had to say to myself, “Don’t think of Mr. Virgo!” He just…wasn’t there.

That kind of surprised me, actually. Because, like I said, I honestly didn’t know what to expect. It’s never occurred to me to ask other widows who have remarried how it affected their grief. So, like I’ve done from the beginning, I feel what I feel and I write about it. The feeling has persisted all week. Mr. Virgo is still here, but he’s standing much further away. Because…just as I stepped out the door to walk across the field and marry my sweet Mr. FixIt, I looked up and told Mr. Virgo…”Don’t worry about me now. I’ve got this!” ❤️

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV

A Beautiful Day

Fri, 19 Oct 2018 01:30:08 -0600

“On our way home yesterday, I caught a glimpse of the wind turbines atop a ridge near Elkins. It was an incredibly beautiful day.”

The last two days were perfectly beautiful in the mountains of West Virginia. We left home around 11:00am Wednesday and got to our motel room an hour before the viewing. We hadn’t eaten since early so we went looking for something to eat after the viewing. You have three choices in the little, tiny town of Petersburg…Subway, Pizza Hut, and McDonald’s. We drove fifteen miles to Moorefield, hoping for a restaurant but found nothing we were willing to try. We we ended up buying some sandwich fixings at Food Lion and had a picnic back at the room.

There was no cell service and no WiFi at the motel which was fine by me. I wrote and scheduled Wednesday’s and Thursday’s posts Tuesday night in anticipation of being off the grid. It was really chilly when we got back to the room so I took a hot bath, bundled up, and got under the blankets and caught up with a week’s worth of devotionals. There were four channels on the TV so we turned it off and fell sound asleep by 9:30! Unheard of for us.

The funeral was yesterday at 11:00am. It was a very nice service. They played some songs…Elvis singing Amazing Grace…One Day at a Time. And one other I’ll share with you here.

Theirs was a love story, through and through. My uncle told me the first time he set eyes on my aunt, he was smitten. There was a lot going on in 1956. My Uncle Sonny was killed in a plane crash in 1955. Not long after, my Aunt Rosie got married. So, Uncle Dudley and Aunt Viv decided to elope to Oakland, Maryland and get married…in the same place my grandma and grandpa eloped to. Well, when they came home and told everyone…let’s just say, grandma wasn’t very happy about it. She loved Aunt Viv. She just wanted a wedding.

That was the start of 62 years of devotion. I remember their love as being full of fun and laughter and playfulness. I sat behind him at the funeral and when they played this song, he bowed his head. His shoulders shook slightly from his silent tears. The only other time I remember him crying was when I called to tell him Mr. Virgo died. It broke my heart.

As they played “Love, Me” by Colin Raye, I listened to the lyrics and realized the song was about their love. And I cried along with him. For broken hearts. For lost loves.

The funeral procession wound its way through the hills and countryside till the terrain opened into an expansive valley. We turned left and climbed the hill to the tent that was erected over her grave. My uncle had just purchased these plots last week. They had decided over the years they really didn’t like the cemetery where they had purchased plots years ago but they just hadn’t gotten around to getting the new ones. Oh, my! The view was absolutely stunning. My aunt rests high on a hillside overlooking magnificent farmland. Black angus cattle dot the landscape in the verdant green fields. The hardwoods of the forests surrounding the valley were just beginning to hint of the glorious burst of color coming in the next two weeks.

Afterwards, we gathered at the fellowship hall at the church and had one of those wonderful meals country church women fix after a funeral. Hearty, comfort food and lots of love flowed around those tables and we left reminded we are family. Our bonds run as deep as the cool springs in these Appalachian hills. The blood of our shared ancestors keep us connected far beyond the pages of Facebook. We promised to keep in touch with those we seldom see. We promised to bring something special to this year’s Thanksgiving dinner.

Mr. FixIt and I drove quietly through the hills, holding hands…our minds no doubt remembering we aren’t newlyweds at 25 and 26. We are newlyweds at 65 and 66. Our time together won’t be 62 years…but what time we DO have will be filled with fun and laughter and playfulness…just like my aunt and uncle’s marriage. I’m grateful for their example. I’m grateful for the opportunity to love like them. I’m just grateful for every day.

youtu.be/arzlGTw8v…

❤️

“Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth.”

2 Timothy 2:15 NIV

Here Comes the Bride

Wed, 17 Oct 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“One of my favorite moments…locking eyes with a fellow widow whom I mentored…knowing we BOTH have found our second-chance loves.”

It all went so fast. Here we are, just a few days after the wedding and I don’t remember all the details. That happens to every bride, I think. You throw so much into the planning, and so many last minute details happen the day of the wedding. Friends and family came at 2:00 to help me get ready. The ceremony was at 4:00. The girls were still messing with my hair when I asked the time. 3:20! I still hadn’t put on make up or dressed!

I don’t wear a lot of make up ordinarily…and when I do, it’s not much. Throwing that on was no big deal. I slipped on my boots and my new daughter and granddaughter helped me into my dress. In no time at all, I was ready. The music wasn’t. I told them I didn’t care…I’d walk out singing “Here Comes the Bride” if I had to…I was ready….REALLY ready!

They helped me out to the tent…one carrying my train…the other hoping for the music to start. And, it did! Just as I got to the tent, I looked up and there was my sweet friend, Deneene. She was one of what looked like a whole sea of smiles and cell phones pointed at me. I looked at her with a knowing smile. You see, Deneene was referred to me when she was a relatively new widow herself. I was a couple of years ahead of her. I mentored her for the next couple of years. I was for her what I wished I’d had. Someone who had recently walked the path and could relate. Someone who could say this is perfectly normal. Someone to hold out a hand…not to pat it, but to offer a lift up. Then, Deneene met HER new love. And we walked this new territory together. She caught that knowing look in this picture. I think it is one of my favorites. Because I’m looking at another widow in love. I’m looking at my friend that helped me as much as I helped her. I’m looking at hope and joy and strength and perseverance and courage and reflecting it all back.

We all are nothing more than the sum of our life experiences. I was ready to marry…every time I married. But I didn’t know then what I know now. Now I know what love is. I know how fragile life is. I know how to face the unimaginable and still live. I know how to live alone when it’s impossible to breathe. I know how rare it is to find someone so incredibly compatible. I know SO much more than I knew when I married Mr. Virgo. This man, this love, this marriage will reap the benefits of that knowledge and experience. I am so grateful to be where I am today. It is only through God’s grace and love that I found my way through the darkness. There may still be darkness ahead…but now there is hope. ❤️

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.”

1 Peter 5:10-11 NIV

Last Love

Mon, 15 Oct 2018 01:30:30 -0600

“My sweet love…my last love.”

I was talking to Mr. FixIt sometime over the last few weeks as we were planning the wedding. I told him this was my last wedding and I wanted it to be very special while maintaining a reasonable budget. He looked at me and said, “Don’t say that. You don’t know that this is your last. Something could happen to me and I wouldn’t want you to be alone.” Of course, after losing Mr. Virgo, I’m fully aware I could lose this wonderful man. It’s part of the hesitancy I felt in the beginning about getting married. I was afraid I’d jinx it.

I can tell you honestly, though…I have no intention of ever marrying again. This is my darling. My “silver love”. My last love. My forever love. This one. It’s not that I didn’t feel that with my other spouses. You never enter a marriage with the thought it won’t last. It never really came to the forefront of my mind that Mr. Virgo would actually up and die on me. Certainly I never had a clear picture of what that would look like.

I may not have been Mr. Virgo’s first love…but I was his last.

And, for me…Mr. FixIt is my last love. No matter what. How could I possibly top this? ❤️

“Where God’s love is, there is no fear, because God’s perfect love drives out fear. It is punishment that makes a person fear, so love is not made perfect in the person who fears.” 1 John 4:18 NCV

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

Sparkles and Sunshine

Sat, 13 Oct 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“My fancy earrings from Daughter #2…perfect for the wedding!”

“Always be humble, gentle, and patient, accepting each other in love. You are joined together with peace through the Spirit, so make every effort to continue together in this way.” Ephesians 4:2-3 NCV

Our good friends, Dianne and Bobby came over to the Ponderosa yesterday and helped us decorate the tent for the wedding. We moved the forty bails of hay and made rows of seating. We strung five hundred white twinkle lights above. We set up the serving tables and hung the cross at the front. We have the extra bales out front and I finally found a use for these two pieces of rustic decorative fencing I’ve had for years. The quilts are all in plastic tubs to keep from gathering moisture. The pulled pork goes in a slow oven in the morning and the fried chicken goes in the smoker to heat up.

The soft drinks and water are already in the big galvanized washtubs chilling outdoors overnight and ice will be added in the afternoon. My sweet friend Deneene came from South Carolina and arrived at 4:30. We went to town to fill up two big propane tanks for TOW-Wanda because I ran out of propane in the middle of the night. It was REALLY cold by morning! We dropped the tanks back off at the Ponderosa then we went to the farm to get Mr. FixIt’s white dinner jacket. As I was leaving I saw my mom’s quilt peeking out from under a stack of linens and grabbed it. I also brought the big box of fireworks we bought for the wedding.

And now, the day is here. I found a bag with a bunch of jewelry in it when I was at the farm yesterday. Last night I was showing my friend Deneene something in the bag and ran across these earrings. Daughter #2 bought me these for Christmas many years ago. I never had an occasion to wear time so they have been tucked away in a safe place…just waiting for the most special occasion. I sent my daughter this picture and asked if she remembered these. I told her I finally have a special occasion to wear them. You’re supposed to have something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I haven’t borrowed anything yet, but the center stone in these earrings is the palest ice blue topaz, they’re old in that I’ve had them for years and they’re new in that I have never worn them. My daughter said that made her all fuzzy inside. I wish my girls could be here. But we will celebrate when we get to Colorado next.

Today! TODAY!!! I’m marrying my best friend today. The sweetest man on the planet. I’ve never been more ready, more prepared.

“Thank you, Jesus…for every gift, every blessing, every friend and family member. Bless those who cannot join us today. Bless my cousin Tom and his wife Suzy as he fights the ravages of mesothelioma. Bless my Uncle Bud and cousins as they sit with their wife and mother as she inches toward her final journey home. And Bless all these wonderful people who come here to read about how You impact my life. Lord, thank you for the gift of love from Mr. Virgo. Thank you for letting lightning strike twice and bringing me Mr FixIt. This is a love affair for the ages!

And, as always…To God be the Glory.

Amen”

❤️

The Side Effects of Obedience

Fri, 12 Oct 2018 01:30:03 -0600

“Sunset over the Ponderosa.”

“And love means living the way God commanded us to live. As you have heard from the beginning, his command is this: Live a life of love.” 2 John 1:6 NCV

I went to small group from church last night. We have a fall series and a spring series of meetings. There are different groups to fill different needs and we are all encouraged to join a small group. In a huge church, it’s difficult to feel a bond with individual members of the church family. Small group gives us the chance to make friends, learn from God’s Word, and experience fellowship. I love the gals in my small group. We always have great discussions and we always share praises and prayers at the end.

It’s been four weeks since Mr. FixIt and I decided to get married and set the date. Four weeks since I made the decision to live separately from him till the wedding. Even though I came back to the Ponderosa last week, I’ve been staying in TOW-Wanda. I was chatting with the gals at small group about it and got to thinking on the drive home about how this exercise has changed me.

First…I just FEEL different. It’s hard to describe. I feel honorable. Obedient. Peaceful. Good…in that good way you feel when you have done the right thing. It wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t necessarily comfortable. Some didn’t understand why I was doing this. That offered me the opportunity to share. I’ve had the opportunity to pray with others over this. I have even been an example to one woman who had a thought then heard my testimony and realized God was answering her question.

Sometimes the decision to be obedient to God has as much to do with the people in your path as it does to you yourself. God orchestrates our lives and places us where He needs us. We miss the opportunity to experience the blessings from that if we choose to ignore the prodding, the poking, the whispering of the Holy Spirit. I’m really glad I’ve done this. It has given our wedding a new depth and meaning.

The whole time I lived here before this, Mr. FixIt always talked about this being “our house”. And, while we did make some changes and redecorated, try as I might…I couldn’t get past considering it HIS house. Now, one of the side effects of my obedience is seeing this place as our home. Not HIS house…our HOME. Big difference.

Yesterday was rainy and we just did some things around the house. I picked up my wedding band from the jeweler. It is purposefully different. When I tried it on, my mind flashed back to my last wedding band. I smiled.

Mr. FixIt shampooed carpets. I took the pulled pork out of the freezer and put it into the fridge in the garage to thaw. We sat down and made some lists. We have friends coming today to help decorate the tent and whatever else we need to do. Mr. FixIt will go to town and pick up some food items we need for the reception. I have to run to the farm because we left his white dinner jacket out there.

We are organized. We are (fairly) rested and relaxed. And, we are SO excited!

OMGosh! You guys….TOMORROW!!!!! ❤️

Thanking God

Thu, 11 Oct 2018 01:30:34 -0600

“The wedding tent!”

“Everything God made is waiting with excitement for God to show his children’s glory completely.” Romans 8:19 NCV

I hadn’t even had my coffee yesterday morning when I heard the diesel dually pull into the driveway just beyond TOW-Wanda’s door. I felt a thrill in my veins.

“They’re here!” I thought. “The tent men are here.”

Sure enough, two guys in a pickup with a great big tent rolled up in the back were waiting for directions as to where to erect said structure. I walked out in the field and showed him the site Mr. FixIt and I had chosen the night before. I want the tent positioned so people turning in from the main road will have a straight on view.

It wasn’t 30 minutes and they had the tent up. They forgot to bring the sides to protect from the rain, so the owner of the tent company brought them later. I was thrilled to see him. You see, Andy grew up two houses from me. I am ten years older than him but I remember him as a little boy. His dad used to have a little carnival and concession business that turned into a tent rental enterprise. When I was a little girl, Andy’s dad used to store his carnival rides in the yard behind their house. He had a cotton candy machine on the back porch. Sometimes he would start it up and give all the neighborhood kids free cotton candy. It was a pleasure to visit with Andy and talk about the old days in the neighborhood.

The tent hadn’t been up two hours when it started raining. We were going to decorate the tent but it was too wet. I went to town for my final fitting and brought the dress home with me! It’s hanging here in TOW-Wanda. It’s supposed to rain all day today. I’m looking forward to a lay low day of doing nothing. Mr. FixIt and I are exhausted. We need to rest up for the two days ahead!

Thursday…Friday….SATURDAY!!! ❤️

I Have a DREAM!

Tue, 09 Oct 2018 01:30:24 -0600

“I have a God dream!”

“But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.” And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.” Genesis 50:19-21 NIV

A big dream. I’m not talking about an in-my-sleep dream. I’m talking about a GOD dream. I was thrilled this morning when my church shared the video of Pastor Jabin Chavez when he spoke at the Warehouse Church a couple of weeks ago. This is the video we saw in church Sunday. I told you yesterday I wanted to process it some more before I discuss it further. It touched me deeply and I really want to share it with you to see if you have the time. This is one of those messages that touches your soul.

youtu.be/XyjzqjJPy…

We are inching ever closer to the end of a very long list of things we want to get done before the wedding. We went to the farm yesterday and mowed. I moved boxes and filled the bird feeders. We emptied the truck and trailer of hay and covered it with a tarp. Mowed, cleaned, picked up junk. I’m still working on cleaning all the parts of the smoker. (I love the product but the clean up is a bear.) I’ve come up with more quilts!

FIVE DAYS!!!!!

The Glory of Love

Sun, 07 Oct 2018 01:30:18 -0600

“Sunset over the Ponderosa.”

“Therefore, since we have these [great and wonderful] promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, completing holiness [living a consecrated life--a life set apart for God’s purpose] in the fear of God.” 2 CORINTHIANS 7:1 AMP

What beautiful sunsets we get to see here on the Ponderosa! I was just heading back in the house after dining al fresco with Mr. FixIt when I notice the light changing. I turned around and caught this. With the hill behind the house, we don’t catch the setting sun itself. However, if there are clouds, you can catch the reflection and oftentimes it is so stunning it takes you breath away.

I got a bit of a late start this morning and by the time I got out to clean the smoker, it was already 88 degrees. Sitting in the sun scrubbing furiously is all it took to knock me down. I had to go lay down in the air conditioning in TOW-Wanda till it cooled off outside and I cooled off inside. We drove to town for a couple of things and picked up hamburger for supper. Mr. FixIt tried to burn the brush pile again and it just will not burn. Too green, too wet…who knows? Not sure what we’re going to do now with two charred piles of blackened brush. Some will burn…just not much. I finished the inside of the smoker at dark and will clean the racks tomorrow while Mr. FixIt bowls.

My good friend Diane hunted down some hay for me so we’re picking that up this afternoon after church. Now I’m on the hunt for some cutter quilts. A friend of mine told me where I might find some. Now it’s just a matter of having the time to go look. sigh

As you can see in the picture, TOW-Wanda is tucked in there under the maple tree by the building. I’m staying out there till the wedding. I am determined to see this through. A commitment is a commitment.

I’m looking forward to church today. I need the break…and the soothing calm I get from worshiping with our church family. I am not at all nervous about the wedding or marrying Mr. FixIt. There is just so much we would like to get done beforehand. We were talking as we drove to town last night. I suggested we go get massages before the wedding. Don’t you think that would be a lovely idea?

Six days!!!!! ❤️

Watching and Waiting

Thu, 04 Oct 2018 01:30:44 -0600

“Mr. Toad is an opportunist.”

“And now a personal but most urgent matter; I write in the gentle but firm spirit of Christ. I hear that I’m being painted as cringing and wishy-washy when I’m with you, but harsh and demanding when at a safe distance writing letters. Please don’t force me to take a hard line when I’m present with you. Don’t think that I’ll hesitate a single minute to stand up to those who say I’m an unprincipled opportunist. Then they’ll have to eat their words.”
2 Corinthians 10:1-2 MSG

I’m back at the Ponderosa tonight but I’m camping out in TOW-Wanda. Poor Mr. FixIt has been working from sunup to sundown trying to get this place wedding worthy and I just couldn’t let him do this all alone. I get here in time to cook him a nice supper. Pot roast, fried potatoes and gravy, and green beans. He said he hasn’t had a decent meal since I left for the farm and it just did my heart a world of good to cook for him.

This big guy startled me when I was carrying things into the house. He sits out there, watching and waiting for nightfall when the bugs are attracted to the outdoor light. He’s pretty hefty so he must be well fed. He reminded me of opportunists….watching and waiting for the moment to jump.

I experienced an example of opportunism last night. Someone who hasn’t spoken to me in two years chimed in on a comment I made. Granted, I broke my cardinal rule and made a comment about a political post. I don’t do that. I don’t do that. Well, ok…just this once. It wasn’t an ugly comment. It was factual. But, this person is aware of my buttons. This brought me to a sincere self-examination.

My first response was to say something I am quite sure I would regret but that only lasted a few seconds. Instead, I jumped at an opportunity of my own. Scroll on by…nothing to see here, folks. And say a prayer of thanksgiving that I dodged a bullet with this one. Thank you, Jesus…for more reasons than one.

❤️

Instant Gratification

Wed, 03 Oct 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“The only monarch butterfly I have seen in WV in the four years I’ve been back, and it was lying dead in the field. I was to harvest milkweed pods this year and try to bring some monarchs back.”

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”
Ephesians 4:1-3 ESV

So, yesterday I told you I’m a “risk-taking storyteller”. I’m sure it’s no surprise to any of you who have been following me for some time if I tell you…I am also “Instant Gratification Girl”! If I can’t get it done yesterday, I’ve been known to pitch a hissy fit. Patience has never been my forte.

I stopped praying for patience a long time ago when I figured out God was sending me MANY situations in which to practice. I know I’m not fooling Him one bit, but I do thank Him for what little patience I DO have.

I may have told you this story before. I’ve told so many, it’s hard to remember. When I was a little girl, I desperately wanted a pair of black, patent leather Mary Janes. Mom took me to the shoe store and the only pair they had left was a half size too small. When my mom told the man we’d keep looking. I had a major meltdown. To my little overdramatic self, that meant I would NEVER, EVER get them! Mom caved and bought them for me and forced me to wear them for a month till I was broken of that behavior.

Well, maybe.

Monday evening, I went over to Mr. FixIt’s and mowed till it got too dark to do it safely. I went in to get a cold drink and was sitting on the sofa when I saw them. An army of stink bugs! Do you think either of us could have possibly remembered what arrives in WV on the 1st of October? Nooooooo. Hot on their stinky little heels will be the Asian Lady Bugs. Oy! Both of these little boogers swarm en masse and I can just imagine myself walking down the aisle looking like a Ninja as they swarm and land in my hair!

Breathe.

OmmmmmmmMyGosh!!!!

I put an urgent message out on FB. “Is there anything to keep these things at bay for a few hours?” I got lots of suggestions, including changing the wedding date. No! Absolutely not! I want my “patent leather shoes”, darn it!

Here’s how I’m going to deal with this. We’ve managed to pull together a beautiful wedding in less than a month. The average cost of a wedding in the US today is $27,000. Ours is going to be gorgeous for far less than 10% of that. (Did I tell you I used to do this for a living? Mr. Virgo taught me well!) Everything is ordered. The tent comes the 10th giving us plenty of time to decorate it. I’m going to smoke the pork butts this weekend for the pulled pork, bag it and pop it in the freezer till Wednesday. Then late Saturday morning it goes in a slow oven to finish off. I have plenty of helpers coming that Friday and Saturday. I have a final fitting on the dress next Wednesday and it will be ready to pick up Friday. We can get the coleslaw and buns that afternoon. The sodas go in the fridge Friday and on ice in the galvanized tubs Saturday. The photographer arrives at 2:00. The cake gets delivered at 3:00.

See? Everything that I CAN control is under control. The rest of it I can do nothing about. Weather OR bugs. And…it will be perfect. I was thinking about this “instant gratification” thing and my word for the year….presence…popped into my head. This is my last wedding. Seriously. I’m never doing this again. I want to stay in the moment and memorize it all. We want to enjoy this, not stress out about it. So, that’s just what I’m going to do.

I really didn’t like those patent leather Mary Janes anyway. ❤️

I’m a Risk-taking Storyteller

Tue, 02 Oct 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“I am willing to risk being wrong.”

“He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap. As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything. In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good. Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. So if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. All that comes is vanity.”
Ecclesiastes 11:4-8 ESV

Let’s face it…I’m a risk-taker. I wasn’t always. I stood at the edge of many a precipice, leaning forward just enough to deem the venture far too scary to attempt. And, being a perfectionist compounded the issue with my “If I can’t overachieve, I will not try” personality. This has kept me from experiencing many incredible moments that, at the very least would have been entertaining, and more than likely would have changed my life. But, change wasn’t something I was interested in.

I remember when my 20-year marriage was falling apart. I had been in therapy for depression stemming from a past filled with abuse, both to me and by me. Sexual abuse. Emotional abuse. Alcohol abuse. Prescription abuse. When my ex-husband was at the end of his rope, he had some therapy of his own to gain the tools he needed to take care of himself. He was changing right in front of me and it scared me more than anything else had. Because I knew where this was headed. My long-standing abandonment issues assured me I would be alone and destitute and living on the streets. Of course, that never happened, but I distinctly remember him saying something to me and asking him just how much he was going to change because I didn’t like it. I can look back on that moment now and realize he was actually saving my life, but at the time, I was horrified.

When I found myself dangling by the end of my own rope, I was forced to change or die. I’d love to say it was an easy choice and I moved right on by the huge crevasse that had opened in my life, but that was not the case. I overdosed and came as close to death as I care to go at this point in my life. And that was, as they say, the bottom of the barrel.

I wasn’t a Christian yet, but I saw a tunnel before me of the most beautiful shade of cobalt blue surrounded with rays of gold…like a giant eclipse of the sun. While I was in this tunnel, my dead grandma came to me and stood by my side. She sternly told me, “Get back down there, young lady! You have work to do!” It took me five years and the death of my mother and the prayers of some really great people to find Jesus and my life changed in an instant. Not that my circumstances were ideal and I didn’t still struggle. I did. But I felt every cell in my body come alive and become new. It was…THE change. The really BIG change.

My fear level plummeted. I became a risk taker. After two failed marriages, Mr. Virgo came into my life and I plunged off the cliff of a third marriage holding hands with a wonderful man. We enjoyed seven years of this bliss before he died suddenly as we were planning our golden years. Grief chiseled me into who I am today. Stronger, to be sure. Softer, more empathetic. Grief became my story…and I’m an avid storyteller.

Now, here I am…about to jump off the cliff again. My fourth marriage. I swear, it’s my LAST marriage. Daughter #1 has taken to calling me “Liz”. Someone asked me the other day if I was scared. My answer was, “Heck no! I’m marrying my very best friend whom I’ve known for fifty years. Bring it on!” I realized a couple of days later what she meant….

Was I scared of losing Mr. FixIt like I lost Mr. Virgo?

I pondered. This is why no one likes to talk about death and grief. It hits too darned close to home. Am I worried that Mr. FixIt will drop dead in front of me? I’d be lying if I said no. Am I willing to risk going through loss and grief again so that I can experience the love of another wonderful man? Absolutely! And you know why I say that? Because, I’m a risk-taker now. Ever since I laid everything on the line for Jesus, I’ve been firmly in the camp of “I’m willing to risk being wrong.” It took me 14 months of being engaged to Mr. FixIt to prepare for this marriage. It took standing up and adding the caveat of living separately for the month before the wedding as a sacrifice and atonement for living together before we were married. And it took the assurance of a loving God that He will always and forever have my back in all things I do. I will not be afraid.

They say God will catch you and teach to you fly. I am sure there will be many flying lessons ahead, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take and a story I’m willing to tell. ❤️

Plan B

Sun, 30 Sep 2018 01:30:16 -0600

“My Plan A. On to Plan B.”

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” James 1:5 ESV

It was so pretty on the hanger, but...true confession...I didn’t try the dress on at the Country Living Fair. For one this, there was one dressing room consisting of four curtains and a mirror and a long line. It was ninety-one degrees. And I was working the booth. I thought for sure it would fit. It was way too big, but beyond that, the style just was not flattering on me. I was SO disappointed. Then I kinda freaked a little. We live in a small town and there aren’t a whole lot of options here for purchasing formal attire.

I jumped on Pinterest and searched for “wedding dresses for the mature bride”. Apparently, a “mature” bride is 35 because that’s how old the women were modeling the dresses. And a lot of the dresses looked matronly. I really don’t want to look like the grandmother of the bride. I AM the bride, and by golly, I’m going to look like one!

I drove to town and prayed on the way.

“Lord, thank you for all of your provision. I want to thank you for having the perfect dress waiting for me at the first shop I stop at today. It needs to be on sale, Lord. And I don’t want to pay over $____ for it. Oh, and if possible, I want to look like a queen. Amen”

I pulled into the first shop on my route. We tried a couple dresses off the rack but they neither one suited me. Then Julie, the attendant, directed me to the sale rack. She said, “I think this just might work. Try this.” It was a size 12. My heart sank. I’ve put on 15 pounds from the steroids I was on for two weeks. But I was game to try.

She helped me into the dress and when I came out and looked at myself in the mirror, I cried. Ok, I made a little 14 year old girl who was in the shop cry, ok? This dress is stunning. Nothing like I imagined I would have…or want. But, when I asked the attendant how much it was, it was $1.00 below the price I told God I could pay! We’re going to do a little fitting and then it will be perfect. I’m inot sharing any other details because that man of mine reads my blog and he won’t see the dress until I walk out to the tent. So you’ll just have to wait, too!

You always need a Plan B and sometimes, YOUR Plan B was God’s plan all along! ❤️

Not Today, Devil!

Thu, 27 Sep 2018 01:30:57 -0600

“I think Mr. Virgo was smiling at me today!”

“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.” Isaiah 30:21 ESV

For those of you who have been reading this blog from the beginning, you will remember my reticence to mention God in my posts. I was very, very busy trying to make sure I didn’t offend anyone. And, of course, that is still very much my focus. But as time has passed, I have let God into my writing more and more. I always SAID I was a faith-based writer, but I really wasn’t walking the talk. That all changed one day when I got a text from God in church. That was a great story. Anyway, I’m all about Jesus anymore and I just let out what needs to come out and I don’t worry so much about it anymore.

Our Pastor frequently talks about what happens when you are truly a Christ follower. What happens when you make God the center of your life. He always says, “If you put God at the center of your life…are truly following him with all your heart…watch out! Because there’s nothing the enemy hates more than someone putting God before anything else. He attacks and causes all kinds of destruction and whispers lies 24/7 trying to convince you if God REALLY loved you…these bad things wouldn’t be happening. And, of course, it isn’t true. Nothing the enemy says is true.

Mr. FixIt’s truck had a recall and when they started tearing it apart, they found all kinds of other things wrong. He’s going up today to have a look at it with the mechanics and make a decision. Then, after I helped Mr. FixIt with some things around The Ponderosa yesterday, I drove to the farm. By the time I got there, my wheels were squealing really loud. I had hit a pot hole on this wretched road just before, so I have no idea what’s going on.

I know exactly what is happening here. I was led by God to do the right thing and moved back to the farm till after the wedding. I can feel it to my bones that it’s the right thing to do. And then…the enemy strikes! First, Mr. FixIt’s truck then mine. In the week after we put God first. It is so clear. However, I’ll tell you like my friend, DaShara says…”Not today, Devil…I am a Child of God!”

I know we’re on the right path. And the enemy can throw roadblocks up every step of the way, but we will persevere. We will not be deterred by the likes of him! He who lives within me is greater than he who lives in the world. Everything will work out with an even greater outcome than previously imagined. Amen! ❤️

A Tangled Web

Wed, 26 Sep 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“Sin starts out easily enough and soon ensnares you in a tangled web.”

“I want you to be free from anxieties. The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord. But the married man is anxious about worldly things, how to please his wife, and his interests are divided. And the unmarried or betrothed woman is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit. But the married woman is anxious about worldly things, how to please her husband. I say this for your own benefit, not to lay any restraint upon you, but to promote good order and to secure your undivided devotion to the Lord. If anyone thinks that he is not behaving properly toward his betrothed, if his passions are strong, and it has to be, let him do as he wishes: let them marry—it is no sin. But whoever is firmly established in his heart, being under no necessity but having his desire under control, and has determined this in his heart, to keep her as his betrothed, he will do well.” 1 Corinthians 7:32-37 ESV

As you may remember, I lived twenty-seven years of my life as a practicing Jew, so I am quite familiar with the Days of Awe or the High Holy Days. This is the period of time from Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The dates vary year to year because the Jewish calendar is based on the lunar cycle so it doesn’t match up with the calendar we use daily. This year, Rosh Hashanah starts on September 29th and Yom Kippur is October 8th. It is not a coincidence that this holy time coincides with the days leading up to our wedding.

The High Holy days is a time of reflection and meditation. While Jews pray for their name to be in the Book of Life for the New Year, Yom Kippur is a solemn day of fasting and prayer, a day of atonement when you ask God to forgive you of your sins. When I made the decision to marry Mr. FixIt because I was feeling wrong living with him without being married, I had no idea the High Holy Days were coming up.

I have been staying at the farm by myself for the last week. This is my time of atonement. Being away from my sweetheart isn’t easy, but it is a “fasting”, of sorts. I can’t quite find the words to describe what is happening within my heart as I go through these days without him before we marry.

One may say, “Oh, you’ve lived together all this time. What’s the difference now?”

Well, it is one thing to do something wrong because you were unaware it was sinful. It’s quite another to know it is wrong, then do it anyway. I may be late to the party on this one…but I’ve shown up and suited up. I’ve made a commitment. And I have to say, I am honored by Mr. FixIt’s respect for my decision. Like he said, I am my own woman…I don’t need anyone’s permission to do something, married or not. I know he’s not as enthusiastic about this as I am, but I appreciate his patience and understanding. I think we are both gaining something from the experience.

Sin is a tangled web we can so easily get snared in. Seeking solitude for prayer and meditation has helped me sweep away some cobwebs of my own making. And having a clean slate upon which to build our foundation just feels better to me. I am not being judgmental of others and their personal choices. I speak of what is in my heart. ❤️

A Change of Status

Tue, 25 Sep 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“The change from “widow” to “engaged” deserves a moment of reflection.”

““Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7 NIV

I did something monumental yesterday. I changed my relationship status on Facebook from “widow” to “engaged”. Ok, in the grand scheme of things, that’s not really monumental...but it IS, you know?

Some people change their relationship status like they change their shoes. I remember that first attempt at “dating” after Mr. Virgo died. It was (I’m embarrassed to say) only five months after he died. I know, I know. Plenty of my friends and my family were like…”WTH are you DOING???” What I was doing was putting a tourniquet on my hemorrhaging heart. I went so far as to change my relationship status and knew immediately that was a HUGE error in judgment. Let’s face it…when you are grieving, good judgment goes out the window for quite some time.

It wasn’t long till the status went back to “widow” and there it has stayed for the last five years. When I tell my story, I start out with “My husband and I had decided life was too short to wait for retirement to have some fun…” Always the same. I’ve had people misunderstand my story for “wallowing in my grief”. That isn’t it at all…at least not after a couple of years. I tell my story so that others may not feel so alone in their grief. So that others may learn that when grief strikes, you don’t have to crawl into a ball and stay there forever. I tell my story to give people hope that there is life in spite of grief.

It’s not like I haven’t thought about changing my status before now. After all, Mr. FixIt and I have been engaged for over a year. And, it has nothing to do with my feelings for him. I love him dearly and want to be with him the rest of my life. It’s just five little letters, but widow is what I’ve related to for five-and-a-half years. It does not define me anymore, but it will always be a part of who I am. I was fiddling around on Facebook yesterday and just had this flash.

“You’re getting married in nineteen days, girlfriend. It’s time.” Without giving it a second thought, I went from “widow” to “engaged”. Then I sat and looked at it. Wow. This is huge. Yet, not. Yet, it is. I’m finally ready to put “widow” in second place. And now, when I tell my Mr. Virgo story, it will start out with “My late-husband and I decided…”

I’m making a concerted shift in consciousness. My focus will be more forward-thinking. My posts will have lots of new stories and color and joy and adventure. It feels like I’m leaving something behind, though. That’s one reason I’ve been staying over at the farm alone a lot lately. I need some alone time to process that. To package it up and set it on a shelf. I can still reach it. I can still take it out and look at it. I’m just not going to sit with it in my lap so much. This is all about healing and moving forward and letting go. The shift from one status to the other deserves a moment of honor and reflection. It’s good. It’s all so very good. ❤️

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. ❤️

A Change is Gonna Come...

Sat, 22 Sep 2018 01:30:36 -0600

“A change is coming. Can you feel it?”

“Many claim to have unfailing love, but a faithful person who can find? The righteous lead blameless lives; blessed are their children after them.” Proverbs 20:6-7 NIV

Yesterday, I told you there were some big decisions I’ve been working on the last few months. Today, I want to talk with you about one of them. The most important one. This is a REALLY long post...but hang in there with me. You won’t be sorry.

Not long after Mr. FixIt and I became a serious item, God started working on me. For a long time, whenever I walk into church, I say a little prayer. I always say, “Lord, if there is a personal message you have for me today, please anoint the Pastor’s words so he can deliver it to me.” Countless times, God answers my plea and the Pastor will literally come to the front of the stage, stand right in front of me, look me straight in the eye, and say something that is unmistakably personal. Something exactly about what I’ve been working on, or worrying over. I would say it’s uncanny, but what it really is…is supernatural. Our God is a supernatural God. He listens, and He communicates…through the Holy Spirit. Through a total stranger. Through your Guardian Angel. If He has a message, and you ask Him to tell you loud and clear, He doesn’t need a megaphone. He’ll beat you over the head with it if it’s something you truly need.

From the time Mr. FixIt and I got serious, I’ve been getting messages from God that we shouldn’t be living together without being married. I have to be honest…this has never bothered me before. I’m a product of the ‘60s and I never had a problem living with someone before we got married. But this time is different. It’s been wearing on me. And I think I’ve figured out why.

The biggest reason is my faith has grown exponentially since Mr. Virgo died. I had to make God the center of my life in order to survive that loss. In order to not feel so alone. And God has drawn me ever so close to Him. He has guarded me and protected me. He has led me through some terribly difficult times. He has been my rock…my anchor. In the past, that has not been the case. My relationship with my husband was my focus. My relationship with God suffered and therefore I suffered. And I wasn’t even aware of it.

Mr. FixIt and I keep God at the center of our relationship. Or…so I would love for everyone to believe. See, here’s the thing. You’re either all in with God. Or, you’re not. That’s why I’ve been feeling off about cohabitation. Now, there is the issue of widow’s benefits. I had been told when I first went to Social Security after Mr. Virgo died, that if I remarried I would lose my widow’s benefits. I’ve kept that information in my mind all this time without questioning. Until last weekend.

Mr. FixIt and I have spent a great deal of time apart in the last month between being sick and in the hospital, camping with the Girl Campers, and going to Country Living Fair. The reason I took my camper up with me and camped alone instead of bunking with my gal pals was…I needed some alone time with God. These wonderful women I was with are two of my strongest Christian friends. They mentor me. They are sounding boards for me when I have questions. They are my fellow prayer warriors when I need them. I confessed how I was feeling and they talked with me about it.

While camping alone, I prayed deeply. I told God my worries. I told him I totally trust in Him and that I know without question that He will provide for me. But I’ve been so worried about losing my widow’s benefits because my own Social Security is paltry. I was a stay-at-home mom, so I didn’t make a lot of money in my lifetime. Mr. Virgo, however, worked in 5-Star resorts and restaurants all his career. He died before touching his Social Security. My benefits through him are far more than my own. Not enough to live in the lap of luxury, mind you. But enough to live on if I were extremely frugal. I asked God to give me a sign that I wouldn’t lose my benefits if I remarried.

Then, I listened. “Google. What happens to widow’s benefits if you remarry?” Simple enough, right? I mean, why didn’t I think to Google that a long time ago? Because….it wasn’t the right time. Mr. FixIt asked me to marry him just a month after we started dating. It was too soon. We needed to get to know each other more. We needed to grow together in our faith. And, I needed more time to work through my grief. This was God’s perfect timing. I Googled the question and page after page of answers came back. “If you remarry after the age of 60, you will NOT lose your widow’s benefits.” Wow! The reason it stuck in my head so long ago was, I was only 59 when Mr. Virgo died. They told me if I remarried, I would lose my benefits. But that was THEN. Grief brain didn’t allow the rest of it to soak in.

I sat back…stunned by this revelation. I looked up and said, “Thank you, God. That’s all I needed to know!” Then I texted Mr. FixIt.

“I miss you. Let’s get married.”

Without missing a beat, he wrote back. “OK! We’ll set a date when you get home! What prompted this?”

“God.” I said.

So, we set a date! Yes, my lovely Ranchers…we’re getting MARRIED!!!

Ohhhhh….Emmmmmm…..Geeeeeeeee!!!

I’m all in. I can’t, in good conscience, profess my faith AND live in a way that I feel, for me, is counter to that. So I’m following my conscience and God’s clear instructions to marry this very wonderful man that He sent me. We chose October 13th as our wedding day. When I was looking through the calendar, the 13th jumped out at me. I seemed to remember it being a family anniversary. I looked up on my family tree and indeed…it was my Grandma and PopPop’s anniversary! Those two in whose bedroom I am currently propped up, writing to you! PopPop died on my mom’s birthday…August 26th. Just seven weeks before their 50th Wedding Anniversary. I know how terribly sad I was when Mr. Virgo died just three weeks shy of our 6th anniversary. I can’t imagine what my grandma went through losing her forever sweetheart so close to such a monumental event. I am thrilled we can celebrate our wedding on their special day!

So, there it is, my friends. A change is gonna come. Will I still be a widow? Yes, I will always and forever be a widow. AND, I will be a wife again. Never in my wildest dreams would I have anticipated something so precious happening again. I know Mr. Virgo had a hand in this. He and God stopped at the 9th or 10th hole one day when they were playing a round of golf.

“Hey, look down there at that beautiful woman. Do you think we can send her someone to love who will love her back with the white-hot heat of the sun?”

And God said…”Ha! Watch this!” ❤️

A Fork in the Road

Fri, 21 Sep 2018 01:30:19 -0600

“Making decisions at the fork in the road.”

“If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen. Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.” 1 Peter 4:11-12 NIV

I’ve had a couple of major decisions weighing on my heart the last few months. Good things...but just figuring out which way to go is sometimes overwhelming. When I am faced with just such a dilemma and I grasp it with both hands, I try to wrestle it into the box I want to put it in. This is a goal. Something you can plan for, see, hold onto, and finish all on your own. And...quite often it leads to frustration when you can’t make it fit. When it doesn’t work out the way you want it to.

There’s another way to do this that relieves you of the pressure you put on yourself. You give it to God. I have been reminded of this multiple times in the last week when wonderful women of great faith were sent to me. I listened to their wise counsel. I held hands and prayed with them. And I spent the weekend camping in TOW-Wanda while I was in Columbus at the Country Living Fair. When I stopped trying to hold on so tight and bend these situations to MY will and let God work it out to HIS will, the answers became perfectly clear. The decisions ultimately were simple and life changing. This is a dream…something that comes from God. We discussed this at my small group from church last night and it made so much sense.

I love how this works. I wish I would remember to give it over to God BEFORE I beat my head against a brick wall for months. Maybe one of these days that stubborn “I can do it myself” attitude with magically melt away. And, maybe someday pigs really WILL fly. For now, I’ll take the solace where I can get it and be grateful for God’s grace and the serenity it can provide.

“...When a believing person prays, great things happen.” James 5:16 NCV

❤️

The Velvet Blue of Dusk

Thu, 20 Sep 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:34 ESV

This is the time of year where the days are noticeably shorter, yet the weather still screams “summer”. After a lovely day at the farm, Mr. FixIt and I had to drive back over to his house to get my truck. He has a job to do in town the next few days and we didn’t even think of having two vehicles till yesterday afternoon. I love having him around. I also love some alone time at the farm. I have the best of all worlds.

I threw some old carrots out on the lawn where the deer were gathered the other night. I sat out on the front porch at sunset to watch for them to come get their treat. As I sat there waiting, I tuned my ears to the sounds around me. There was a cardinal darting in the underbrush along the creek….chattering at the cats who must be nearby. Tree frogs, katydids, and locusts provided a chorus for free. I haven’t heard crickets here like I usually do. They didn’t show up at the Ponderosa till earlier this month. I thought that was odd.

I heard a passenger jet flying high overhead as we are on a flight path to somewhere. The occasional vehicle passes. Thankfully the traffic has slowed considerably due to the stage of construction on the pipeline and compressor station. And, of course, the condition of the road warrants slowing down.

There are very few flowers in bloom now. There is some sort of small purple flower in the ditch along the driveway. Some leaves are changing already. The dogwood have hints of pink and crimson. The berries on them aren’t red yet. There are little flashes of yellow at the tips of some branches on the hillside across the road. The incessant humming of the refrigerator is in the background.

This is the time of year when I am called out to the front porch to soak in every moment I can before Jack Frost sends me indoors. There wasn’t a breath of a breeze. The humidity was nearly 60%. It was still 84 degrees at 7:00pm. A Jenny Wren scolded the neighbor as he took his dog for a walk around the perimeter of his property. The wild turkeys in the woods across the way have gone to roost.

Another day is done. I’ve avoided the news. I’ve embraced the peaceful surroundings at the farm. I’ve seen pictures loved ones have shared. This little one had her first day of Girl Scouts. That one is recovering from surgery. Another one was out feeding the chickens. I am filled with grace and a peace beyond understanding. It is well. It is well…with my soul. ❤️

Holding Things

Tue, 18 Sep 2018 01:30:53 -0600

“Crocks waiting for a new home.”

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4 NIV

I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandma lately. I’ve been so busy the last three weeks that I haven’t had a chance to spend much time at the farm. Mr. FixIt and I were thinking of going camping this weekend, but for a number of reasons...not the least of which is being just plain tired of running around...we’ve decided to head to the farm for a much needed respite.

The change of seasons are especially beautiful there. As things come to life in the spring and the dark grays of winter turn to buds of green, my heart soars because I’m heading into my favorite season. I’ve always had a little more difficulty accepting the changes of fall because that mean the dark days of winter are close on its heels. Mr. Virgo always told me, “It’s all in your head. It’s just a matter of what you tell yourself. If you say you hate winter, then guess what? You’re going to hate it!” He was right, of course. So, this fall, I am planning some really special things that will make the season joyful and beautiful. I’m going to do some heavy fall decorating this year. I want to get pumpkins and bittersweet, corn shocks and straw bales, Indian corn and maybe even some clear twinkly lights and dress up the farm. Won’t that be pretty?

I’ll take you along with me as I pick and choose. Maybe we’ll go to a pumpkin patch. Maybe we’ll find a cider press. Whatever we do, we’re going to make this season extra special so I won’t dread winter. Just like grandma’s old crocks that used to hold things, I’m going to use my heart as a vessel to hold beautiful things and make new memories! ?

Road Trip #2 - Fall 2018

Thu, 13 Sep 2018 01:30:23 -0600

“I’m on a road trip…but nothing like this!!!”

“Get ready; be prepared! ...” Ezekiel 38:7 NLT

This is a picture of a “traffic jam”. It was billed as the hurricane evacuation for Florence, but I’ve since learned it’s “fake news”. I don’t know if it’s LA at rush hour or a real hurricane evacuation or totally made up in photo shop, but I imagine they all look the same.

People are fleeing Hurricane Florence by the droves and the looks of this mess horrifies me. There has to be a better way to mass evacuate people other than sitting in parking lots on the freeway. This is dangerous on so many levels. My prayers are with all those who are in the line of the storm.

My road trip yesterday was nothing like this! I started my day off with a followup appointment with one of the specialists I was referred to and I am so pleased to say the biopsies were benign. I am blessed again! Of all the tests and procedures I’ve had done since June, there were only a couple of things found and they can be treated with medication, diet, exercise, and a little weight loss. So, my road trip started out on the right foot!

I haven’t pulled TOW-Wanda since April when I went to Beaver Creek State Park for Spring What a Hoot. When I got her home, one of the hubs was hotter than the others and I was worried there might be something wrong with the bearings on that wheel. With all the medical issues I’ve had this summer, I never got around to hoisting her up on a jack and having a look at that bearing. I knew I couldn’t take her last weekend to Beaver Creek because there is a really steep hill up to the campground and my truck just doesn’t have the power to pull her up there. Mr. FixIt’s truck has a recall on the frame so it couldn’t be trusted. That’s why I borrowed my friend’s Avion.

You know how sometimes you have a problem and you have to puzzle over it for a while before you see the solution? Well, on each wheel, there is a hub cover that protects the grease fitting for the hub. A few years ago, I had a blowout and when AAA changed the tire, they didn’t put the hub cover back. That was a blessing in disguise because when Mr. FixIt and I were driving through Indiana last summer, that is the hub that blew. If that cap would have been on there, we wouldn’t have seen it and there could have been a terrible accident if the wheel froze or worse yet…flew off while driving on the highway. We tried to jack up the camper Tuesday night but the jack wasn’t strong enough. I decided to stop at Walmart and have them take those covers off so I could get in there and grease the bearings. While we were standing there telling the guy what we needed, Mr. FixIt and I looked at each other and had an A-HA moment. Turns out, the end of those little hub covers pop right off with a screw driver so you can easily grease your hubs. A little pump of grease before you head out on a trip will really protect your hubs from overheating. Unfortunately, these are not things they teach you when you go over your camper at the dealer. They don’t necessarily want you doing maintenance…they want you to bring the camper to them. That doesn’t always work out when you travel as much as I have in this camper in the last four years.

Once we added the grease to the hub, I was off on my next adventure. I stopped twice and checked the temperature of the hubs with a digital infrared thermometer with a laser target. Three hubs were 95 degrees and the worrisome hub was only 105. Not enough to worry about, but I’ll keep an eye on it. While I was down under the camper, I did notice a wired bundle that somehow dropped down and was mangled by the wheel. After carefully tracing it, it turned out to be the cable/antenna and I don’t use that, so it’s tucked up away until I can get it fixed some time in the future.

So, my friends and I are here at the campground. I spend a few hours cleaning and organizing the camper and now it is fresh and tidy. I am leaving it in the campground during the duration of the fair because it’s a nice oasis for breaks and lunch. I have the ice machine hooked up that I bought on sale at the end of the season last year. There’s a flat of water bottles in the fridge and freezer. And the AC is working well. There’s a nice shower waiting for anyone who might need it. Today we will set up the Girl Camper display. This is the most fun part! Decorating and letting other women see what fun camping can be. This will be my sixth Country Living Fair. I can’t wait to share all the photos with you! ❤️

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Wed, 12 Sep 2018 01:30:39 -0600

“Craving human touch after loss is one of the most painful aspects of grief.”

“I’m so grateful to Christ Jesus for making me adequate to do this work. He went out on a limb, you know, in trusting me with this ministry. The only credentials I brought to it were invective and witch hunts and arrogance. But I was treated mercifully because I didn’t know what I was doing—didn’t know Who I was doing it against! Grace mixed with faith and love poured over me and into me. And all because of Jesus.” 1 Timothy 1:12-14 MSG

My younger granddaughter is my mini-me. Creative, funny, and incredibly intuitive, she just seems to “get me”. And she knows when to contact me and say just the right thing. Monday was Mr. Virgo’s birthday, and while the day itself did not carry the painful weight it has in the past, I still could not ignore the feelings in my heart as I remembered such a wonderful man and the passage of time without him. Then, last night... “Little” contacted me via text.

“What was Papa’s last name?” she asked.

“McKinney, sweetheart. Same as mine.”

“He was a ghost on a video.”

“What? What video???”

“A video I saw last week. I just remembered to tell you. A medium was talking and a man with Papa’s name spoke out and said he was there. He said he died of a heart attack. He said the woman reminded him of his wife because she was creative and funny. I know it was him and I just wanted to tell you…he’s not really gone.”

Wow.

She was only five when her Papa died. Yet she was the one who gave me the most comfort. She held my heart in a special way that only she and I could understand. She kept a sacred space between us where her Papa and my Mr. Virgo could live forever and never be forgotten. She is so special. She had no way of remembering that Monday had been his birthday. Yet, she knew to reach out.

Thinking back over the years since he died, I remember how hard it was to miss his physical presence. I missed his hugs the very most. The way he would fold me into his chest, the top of my head tucked just under his chin. The smell of leather and tobacco and wood coming from his sweater. The sudden absence of that left a gaping hole in my life. I have always been a hugger. One of the reasons my second marriage fell apart was because Hubby #2 wasn’t. He hadn’t been raised that way. But Mr. Virgo gave me all the hugs I wanted.

I went on the search for physical contact after Mr. Virgo died. I tried dating a couple of guys and that was a catastrophe. Way too soon, way wrong people. I got hugs at church. I cruised the downtown shops and the mall in my little town looking for people I knew who would hold me for that extra long hug that makes casual acquaintances uncomfortable. I have a brother/friend who was wonderful…if I texted him at 3:00am, he would answer right away with “Where are you?” “In the camper,” I replied. “Be right there.” He would saunter over from his house a few blocks away, climb in the camper with me, and we would snuggle up in the corner under a blanket and I would show him pictures on my iPad while he wrapped his arms around me tight. No expectations. Nothing sexual. Just unconditional brotherly love and compassion. I will never forget his kindness. I got a prescription from my doctor for weekly massages to keep myself anchored. I visited my children and my brother as often as I could. I traveled and stayed with gentle friends who held my heart. And, eventually, I could stand up on my own again. I didn’t NEED quite so much. I didn’t ACHE quite so hard.

I was at a place of acceptance when I came back to West Virginia to live on the farm two years ago. I was at peace with my life and felt more centered than I probably ever had. That’s not to say I didn’t want someone in my life…I did. I’m a people person and I do better with a tribe. But I was getting ok with not having someone around all the time. Then…along came Mr. FixIt. And let me tell you…he is a hugger extraordinaire. When we first started dating, we would just sit and hug each other for hours. We’d talk and tell stories and just BE together. One day, he whispered…”This is medicine for the soul.” He was right, it was. It still is.

I know I’m blessed. I know what a gift this is. Late life love is precious. I just read a tweet from the author, Anne Lamott. She was watching the US Open with her love a couple of days ago when he said, “Can I ask you a question?” “Oh, sure,” she said, thinking it was something about the carport they were building. “Will you marry me?” She’s 64. He’s 63. “God is SUCH a show-off!” she said. I know not everyone wants another love after loss. I know some want it and it doesn’t come. I struggle sometimes sharing my joy while balancing sensitivity for others’ pain. My point is to always strive for hope. Always search for joy. No matter what that looks like for you…alone, together, screaming from the mountain tops, or cloistered in the stacks of a really great library. Whatever your bliss…my wish for you is that you find it. In spades! ❤️

Listening to the Still Small Voice

Tue, 11 Sep 2018 01:30:57 -0600

“Sternwheelers left the festival early this weekend due to threat of flooding.”

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”” Joshua 1:9 NIV

This time last year, I had just wrapped up my first Sisters on the Fly event that I hosted here in West Virginia...WV Riverboat Rendezvous. It was timed to coincide with the Sternwheel Festival in Marietta. There were twenty-three women in attendance and we had a blast! Lots of activities from riding a stern wheeler over to Blennerhassett Island to touring a Victorian Mansion to learning how to clog while listening to WV’s Number 1 Fiddle Player. We churned homemade ice cream and had an old fashioned weenie roast. We took a tour of an abandoned oil and gas town. The weather that weekend was fabulous. No rain, reasonably cool weather, and a wonderful campground made for a really fun weekend.

All year, I toyed with the idea of doing it again. While it was indeed a lot of fun, it was a tremendous amount of work. Every time I thought about getting started organizing it, that still small voice said, “No, not this year.” I was afraid I was disappointing others who might want to gather again this fall, but I just couldn’t shake the thought that it wasn’t meant to be this year. If I would have forged ahead and not listened, the event would have come, not only on the heels of my hospitalization last week, but also a wicked bad storm hit over the weekend. Our rain gauges, both at the Ponderosa and at the farm, were topped out at six inches and overflowing, so who knows what we actually received? The point being…I listened. I was told no. And I abided by that.

Everyone who camped with me this weekend with the Girl Campers got home safely with no weather problems. I was so grateful to have had that time with my friends without all the stress a large event causes. I went to the farm yesterday and did laundry in preparation for this week’s trip to the Country Living Fair. Mr. FixIt and his daughter came out to join me. We went through some of the boxes of my treasures and had so much fun looking at things my dad brought back from the war and some old family photographs. We played cards and told stories of growing up. It was such a pleasure to feel the farmhouse warm with the love of family.

There was one point where I opened one of the boxes and laying right on the top was the bill from the ambulance company that took Mr. Virgo to the hospital the day he died. I looked up at Mr. FixIt’s daughter and sighed. She, too, is a widow. She looked at me questioningly.

I closed the lid to the box and smiled. “There are still some things that bother me,” I said. “This is the ambulance bill. Today would have been his 68th birthday. I don’t need to go through this box today.” She gets it.

Still…it was a good day, all in all. I just had to leave well enough alone.

And today…we remember the fallen. 9/11. We will never forget. ❤️

Fun at Girl Camp

Sat, 08 Sep 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“Dehydrated baby copperhead…you always learn something new at Girl Camp!”

“Instruct the wise and they will be wiser still; teach the righteous and they will add to their learning. Proverbs 9:9 NIV

Edit: A kind reader shared a post from another page warning this is the time of year when baby copperheads are born. They arrive with venom and are ready to defend themselves. Even though they are small, they can pack a wallop so be extra careful rummaging around in damp flower pots and under bushes. Watch out for your pets and teach children to move outside toys with a stick first...these little guys can be hiding anywhere!

I tell you what…coming to camp with these girls is as close to summer camp as you can get at the sweet age of 65! Yesterday was so chill…I slept in again, had a leisurely breakfast, stretched out in the afternoon, then joined the girls for appetizer night. Mike, the Park Naturalist, came over at five and gave a talk on providing habitat for photographing birds in the winter time from inside your home. Then there was archery. After supper, we went through his two big boxes of bones and pelts and played guess the animal. This little mite in my hand is a dehydrated baby copperhead! He was very fragile and was found this way in the woods.

There are gals here from as far away as Chicago and Michigan. And, Mr. FixIt was feeling much better yesterday so he came up and joined us last night just after dark! So, my world is complete.

Today is a Civil War Enactment in the Village here at Beaver Creek State Park and we are all looking forward to going down and checking it out. However, we are also predicted to get a lot of rain in the next couple of days from the tail end of a tropical storm so I’m not sure how much we will get to do. There is nothing wrong with sitting in the shelter and visiting with the girls when it’s raining. Or taking a nap with the rain on the tin roof of the “Dorothy Jean”. Whatever you choose to do (or NOT do), Girl Camping is a real treat! And you always learn something! ❤️

Camping with the Girls

Fri, 07 Sep 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“A 1967 Avion is my home away from home this week!”

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

One of my favorite things about camping with other women, besides laughing till you’re silly, is touring the wonderful vintage campers that the gals bring along. This is an 1967 Avion that belongs to my dear friend Gail Bable. Gail is the camp host at Beaver Creek State Park in East Liverpool, Ohio. Every year, she hosts the Girl Camper in the Spring and Fall at “What a Hoot!” So named for the many owls that call the park home.

“The Dorothy Jean - a 1967 Avion, only belonged to my friend Gail’s aunt.”

The Dorothy Jean once belonged to Gail’s aunt. An Avion looks much like an Airstream camper…it’s just not shiny. The surface is anodized and doesn’t take nearly as much work to maintain as the more expensive Airstreams do. The inside is just about the same, however. I do have to admit, for a long time, I really didn’t like this style of camper. I saw it as a long, metal tube that would be hot, cramped and stuffy inside. After staying in this one, and visiting several others, I can honestly say this style has a lot of distinct advantages. The roof is entirely different than most travel trailers and they don’t leak like the ones with so many seams. The air conditioner works just as well as any other camper. And there are lots of windows for light. This particular model has twin beds in the back by the bathroom. There’s plenty of storage, a full sized refrigerator in the kitchen, and a fold out bed up in the living room. I think I would be happy to have something like this…only smaller.

“The Girl Campers sitting around the table, visiting…making new friends and catching up with long time gal pals.”

Our friend Michele showed up Wednesday night with her vintage 1967 Pennant she just finished fixing up. OMGosh! It has to be one of my favorite vintage campers EVER. Why? Because she mixes in sweet family treasures in her decor. A girl after my own heart. There is a story about everything…from her dad’s ties used as a curtain, to her saddle shoes from high school, to her and her sister’s Easter bonnets…and the love just shines through! I love a camper that you can scan your eyes over and find something new every time. There is a lot of work that goes into staging a camper like this, but when you can pull it off as much as Michele does, the results are well worth the work!

“A 1967 Pennant has the unusual configuration of the gaucho bad in the back.”

“Michele decorated her camper with treasures from her childhood.”

“Vintage camper decor in a 1967 Pennant.”

“Mixing treasures and iconic memorabilia makes for visual interest in this vintage camper.”

“I love chenille bedspreads in vintage campers. They take me back to my childhood.”

“The Queen is in!”

“You may ignore the Queen. But, she’s still the QUEEN!”

Janine (of Girl Camper Podcast fame) and I went junking yesterday and found some really GREAT treasures for staging next week at the Country Living Fair in Columbus, Ohio. If you’re visiting the area…do come look us up. We’re going to have a couple surprising variations on the usual array of vintage campers on display this year. This is one of my favorite two weeks of camping with the girls every year! Always someone new to meet and always someone fun to catch up with from the past. ❤️

Road Trip #1 - Fall 2018

Wed, 05 Sep 2018 01:30:43 -0600

“The leaves are beginning to change and you know what that means? Fall Girl Camping!!!”

“That evening quail came and covered the camp, and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the dew was gone, thin flakes like frost on the ground appeared on the desert floor. When the Israelites saw it, they said to each other, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread the Lord has given you to eat. This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Everyone is to gather as much as they need. Take an omer for each person you have in your tent.’ ”” Exodus 16:13-16 NIV

I’ve been doing everything I can to be well enough to join the Girl Campers for their fall outing. I was pretty worried last week and over the weekend as to whether I would get to go or not. With the help of my doctor and my Girl Camper friends, I am all set to go on a road trip today. Now, before you go all “mom” on me, let me tell you my plans.

First, I’m not pulling a camper this time. My dear friend and fellow Girl Camper Extraordinaire has kindly offered her vintage Avion for my use for the next week. For those of you unfamiliar with the Avion…it looks very much like an Airstream, but not shiny. I am so excited to get the opportunity to stay in a vintage camper! And this cuts out all worries of having a mechanical breakdown on the way to or from the event.

Second, I went to my doctor’s office yesterday and got a good looking over. I’m not wheezing anymore. I’m stable on the meds they gave me and everything is under control. She gave me a prescription for a nebulizer since I cannot find mine so I can give myself a breathing treatment if I need to. I promised I would not do the extra activities and I’m taking my knitting and crafts and magazines and a couple of books. I’ll take my writing and my art supplies. Just sitting and relaxing…and no campfires near me!

Third, some girlfriend time is exactly what I need! Mr. FixIt is slowly on the mend. His virus hit him as body aches. No head or chest congestion. He’s hoping by Friday he will feel up to driving up and joining us for the weekend as this is a Mister-Sister trip. He loves to sit around the campfire over the weekend with the girls and they love having him. I’ll be up at camp till Tuesday morning. And I promise…I’ll be careful and there are a lot of people watching out for me so I wont get in trouble! I can’t wait to share stories from around the propane “campfire” and I love taking you all along with me!

❤️?❤️?❤️

2,000 Days

Sun, 02 Sep 2018 01:30:41 -0600

“2,000 Days”

“(For we are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days upon earth are a shadow:) Job 8:9 KJV

For a long time after losing Mr. Virgo, I marked the timeline of my grief by significant dates. The first anniversary without him came just three weeks after he died. That was a tough one. First Halloween marked when we met. The first time I celebrated his birthday alone was terribly sad. First Thanksgiving, first Christmas...the list went on and on and I was convinced when the first “angelversary” of his death came around, I could turn a corner on this grief thing. Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

The seconds were worse for me than the firsts. Because, the first year I was in a fog. The second year I was awake and he was still gone. It was deeply painful. It was desperately lonely. I was exceedingly angry. Each day led me forward, ever so slowly, toward…what? Healing? Peace? Acceptance? It wasn’t easy. Somewhere along the line, 1,000 days passed and I wrote about my experiences along the way. Still marking the calendar of grief.

Now it’s been 2,000 days. Unbelievable. It seems like forever ago. It seems like yesterday. It sometimes even seems like he was a dream and I never really had him. I think that’s fairly normal, from what I have heard from you all over the years. I can’t remember his voice anymore. I struggle to picture his hands. He’s like a really good movie that I loved and watched over and over till I memorized all the words…then lost the disk. I’ll never see that particular movie again, but I remember how much I enjoyed it.

I still get waves of grief. They don’t hit nearly as hard as they used to, and they don’t last nearly as long, thank God. I notice them most when I am tired or not feeling well. I’ve learned so much about myself since he died. I’ve become much stronger. My world is brighter now that I’ve passed through all those days. I have new love. But I will never lose my old love. I have them both. I am a widow and a partner. I grieve and I rejoice.

I have greater compassion now. For others. For myself. I know not everyone has a new love. Not everyone wants it. Women are perfectly capable of being widowed and still lead a fulfilling life. One does not need a partner to be rich in love. Women can be remarkably resilient and strong all on their own.

So, it’s been 2,000 days. Remarkable…yet another ordinary day. The seas are much calmer this far from the shore. ❤️

What Do You Do With HIS Stuff?

Sat, 01 Sep 2018 01:30:48 -0600

“Mr. Virgo dressed for the Ritz Carlton.”

“The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:17-18 NIV

We had a good discussion here yesterday about downsizing...a topic near and dear to my heart and one not everyone is interested in. I get that. We like our stuff...it brings back memories, it is proof of what we worked for. But, what do we do with HIS stuff? If you’ve watch any rom/com, you’ll see women throwing the guys stuff out the upstairs window and burning it on the lawn if infidelity or divorce are involved. While I don’t necessarily recommend that, I can see how it would be cathartic. Usually the man takes care of his own stuff in a breakup. That can’t happen when death is involved.

When I was newly widowed, I walked in a daze for weeks. I couldn’t imagine going through Mr. Virgo’s stuff and getting rid of anything. I would often stand in his closet, wrap myself in his clothes that smelled of leather and tobacco and Halston and woods. I grieved to my very core, holding onto the last things he touched. I did this for a few weeks. Then I took off in my little camper for three months.

When I returned, I had screamed and cried out a lot of my initial grief up on the mountaintops. I realized standing in the closet wrapped in his clothes wasn’t healthy for me. My daughter was a teacher at a poor, inner-city school that had a program for young men. They provided a suit and interview training so they would have a better chance at landing good jobs. When I heard about this, something inside me smiled. I knew Mr. Virgo would love to have his suits used for such a purpose. This gave me the impetus to go through his closet. I saved a couple of sweaters, my favorite ties, and his leather bomber jacket. The rest I bagged up.

When I woke up the next day, I reached for my phone and saw message after message on my feed…Happy Father’s Day! I sat up and looked around. All of his clothes were in bags on the floor surrounding the bed. And I had no one to hug for Father’s Day. I always had a bag packed to impromptu camping trips so I went out and hooked up TOW-Wanda and headed for the hills for a few days.

When I got home, I carried the bags out to the car and carted them around for a couple of weeks just to make sure I was really ready to let go. Once I was convinced, I delivered them to my daughter. I would have loved to have heard the stories of successful job interviews!

Once the closet was cleaned out, it wasn’t a big stretch to go through his dresser and get rid of his underwear and socks. I never felt like I was invading his privacy until I got to the top drawer of the highboy and his briefcase. That bothered me. I felt like I was snooping. I knew I had to go through them because there were papers in there that I might need. I did find some things I wasn’t expecting. There were a couple of charge accounts I didn’t know about. And there was an envelope with his and another woman’s name on it addressed to the house he lived in before he moved to Aspen. At first, I was upset by this. I thought I knew everything about him. Then I realized that he didn’t know everything about me either. We were in our mid-50’s when we met. A lot of water had gone under the bridge before we ever set eyes on each other. The new information didn’t change a thing about our relationship. It was still wonderful. So, I let it go.

My way of cleaning out his closet may not be your way. And that is perfectly fine. We all walk down this path in our own way, in our own time. If it’s ten weeks or ten months or ten years, you do what you need to do. I will lay this down here though, and you can pick it up or not. There is a wonderful organization called Career Gear. You can donate suits and business casual clothes to them and they provide training, professional clothing, and mentorship to men in need so they can get good jobs and provide for their families. I saw a story about them, I believe on Sunday Morning. This would be a good place to donate your husband’s clothing. Or, you may find something similar in your area. It’s just a thought.

careergear.org/get-invol…

Another alternative is creating a memory quilt or pillow from items of his clothing. My friend Steve did this. He had memory quilts made for his three kids and teddy bears for his nine grandchildren…all from his late wife’s clothes. It was a wonderful way to memorialize Nana for her family. I don’t know anything about this particular site, but it’s an example.

https://www.toocooltshirtquilts.com/blog/dealing-with-the-clothing-of-a-passed-loved-one

I hope you find your way through this difficult step with peace…no matter when you decide to do it. Just remember to do it your way. Don’t let anyone tell you how or when. ❤️

Here I Go Again...

Fri, 31 Aug 2018 01:30:38 -0600

“All that’s left of forty year’s accumulation.”

“a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,” Ecclesiastes 3:6 NIV

This stuff was out of sight, out of mind for much of the last three years. My very sweet friend, Steve, let me store this in his basement. He seldom went down there, it was clean and dry, and it was safe and secure. On occasion, I would go over and gather a few boxes and bring them to the farm. Winter clothes, camping gear, important papers, pictures...little by little, things were sorted and either saved or sent on to live with someone else via a charitable organization.

Steve was never in a hurry to reclaim the space I was using because, as a widower, he didn’t have any more enthusiasm for going through things than I did. Over the years, his kids have brought things to store and the basement became more and more crowded and cluttered. Last Christmas was the straw that broke the camel’s back when he had to crawl over things to get to his outdoor decorations. We agreed I would have everything out this summer. As you know, summers are so hot and sticky in West Virginia. And I traveled a lot. And I had surgery. And Steve works weird hours. One thing led to another and I didn’t get it done. I promised everything would be out by the end of August.

So, there it is. Other than a few things at the Ponderosa, my two campers, and my pickup…everything I own is sitting right here. This is all that’s left after the purging of forty years of accumulation and selling my house. It’s been a full four years since I downsized and I’ve learned a lot about myself and what I need to be happy. I thought I’d share a few observations here today.

I’ve learned downsizing is not for everyone. That’s ok. People love their stuff. They worked hard for it. They find comfort in it. I get that. I was really on a bandwagon when I faced downsizing, not only as a lifestyle choice, but as a necessity. I preached “Live with less!” Vehemently. My fervor hasn’t died for me personally, but I now realize I came across as perhaps a little insensitive to those who cherish their personal belongings. If that is you, I apologize.
I have a few…but very few…regrets. First, if I had known my stint at the farm helping out my elderly aunt was only going to last 10 weeks, I very likely wouldn’t have purchased such a big travel trailer. I really miss Little TOW-Wanda. At 16’, she was easy to pick up and go with at a moment’s notice. Not so much with the big behemoth that is TOW-Wanda Grande. Second, there are a few pieces of furniture I parted with that I would love to have now. But, I never would have dreamed I would fall in love again and live the life I am living now. Besides, I really do have everything I need.
And, speaking of falling in love again, I have a significant other who hasn’t fallen in love with the idea of simplifying…yet. We are in the early stages of discussing the merits of downsizing, and he is beginning to understand that means you don’t get to keep everything. I totally understand where he is with that. I held onto my stuff for a long, long time…even when my spouse(s) hated the clutter. Mr. FixIt is coming around. It has to be at his pace, at his comfort level, or I’ll come across as trying to make him get rid of everything. I remember what that feels like and it’s isn’t nice.
When you have less stuff to take care of, you have more money and time to get out and enjoy the fun things in life. That is the best lesson I’ve learned from my own experience downsizing.
Remembering to be grateful for what I DO have keeps me from missing what I don’t. It keeps me thinking in terms of abundance rather than deprivation.

Now I face these boxes. Part of me says if I haven’t opened them in four years, what possible use do I have for their contents? I could just take them to a shelter…or to the dump. But, of course, I cannot do that. I have to go through them. I can, and will, be ruthless as I pick and choose what must be kept, what can be given to family members who would appreciate the memories, and what can go to someone else who will love them as much as I did. This is now my cold weather project. I’ll have it done as soon as possible because, I had the farmhouse clean and neat and tidy. I want it back that way quickly.

I find an uncluttered environment equates to an uncluttered life for me. It eases my mind and will certainly make things easier for whoever will be in charge of going through my stuff when I’m dead and gone. I promised myself, and my kids, that I would never leave them with a mess like I was left with when my mom died. As wonderful as she was, she was a pack rat of the highest order and it was such a chore to clean out her house AND deal with the grief of losing her. I don’t want to do that to anyone. So, here I go again! ❤️

Flora or Fauna?

Tue, 28 Aug 2018 01:30:34 -0600

“Music Pink and Blue” by Georgia O’Keeffe

““Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?” Luke 12:27-28 NLT

It has been over a century since Georgia O’Keeffe first showed her art in New York. Her floral studies look as though you are viewing a delicate flower under a microscope. The languid curves and soft focus give an ethereal beauty to mother nature’s treasures.

In 1918, society was absolutely dominated by conservative men. There were few female artists…and none like Ms. O’Keeffe. Her art was interpreted as portraying the female genitalia. She spent the next six decades denying this vehemently. They were merely studies of flowers. However, I can certainly understand why there was this…misunderstanding.

Georgia O’Keeffe lived in the desert southwest and her art is well known and abundant in the western states. I will never forget the first time I saw one of her paintings and thought it was rather…bawdy. It wasn’t till years later I learned to see what she saw. This particular painting is called “Music Pink and Blue”. I don’t know. It just doesn’t look like music to me. It looks like anatomy.

Speaking of which, the doctor’s visits continue. I’ve been catching up with my routine healthcare ever since I started on Medicare the first of June. Before that, my insurance cost me nearly $800 a month with a deductible over $7,300! I used it specifically for my medications and for strict emergencies. I put off anything I could for three years till Medicare kicked in. So now I’m playing catchup.

The older you get, the more things can be wrong with you, it seems. And one test leads to a panel of blood tests which leads to a CT scan and on to a colonoscopy and upper endoscopy. The mammogram went from films, to special compression views, to needle biopsy, and finally to surgical removal of a lump with a biopsy. Lower abdominal pain progressed to a pap and on to a visit with a GYN (hence the Georgia O’Keeffe reference) and colposcopy with biopsies. H.O.L.Y. C.A.T.S. That wasn’t pleasant. Yes…this is probably TMI. However…I tell you these things to illustrate why you should stay current with your routine healthcare and not put it off. Three times, I’ve had things removed that were precancerous. Had I waited longer, it could have crossed over to cancer. Once, I actually had a melanoma but it was in situ which means “contained”. It had not spread beyond it’s own boundaries, thank God.

When we are widowed, or when we are raising children, or…who am I kidding? Women don’t always take care of themselves at any age because they are busy taking care of everyone else. If you have been putting off getting something checked or you’ve looked it up on WebMD and convinced yourself it is nothing, I’m here today to encourage you to get a complete physical. I know it’s a pain in the butt. I know it can turn out to be expensive. It’s important. YOU are important! And…while you are on interminable hold with the doctor’s office to make that appointment, enjoy this painting of…..a flower. ❤️

Another Layer of the Onion

Wed, 22 Aug 2018 01:30:47 -0600

“Sunset over the Ponderosa.”

“The Lord examines the righteous, but the wicked, those who love violence, he hates with a passion.” Psalm 11:5 NIV

One would think, after nearly five-and-a-half years as a widow, I wouldn’t still be gaining insights into the nature of grief. After all, I’ve written nearly 2,000 daily essays...many dealing with the subjects of death and dying. I’ve passed many milestones. I’ve fallen in love again. Yet, it never ceases to amaze me when I get to peel back another layer and learn something about myself through the lens of loss.

Before Mr. Virgo died, I never really thought about death…not on the daily anyway. I had certainly dealt with loss. My beloved grandma, my wonderful mom, and even my estranged father. Still, those losses didn’t put death in my sights. Since his death, however, the prospect of losing someone so close to me again has caused me a great deal of anxiety and a fair amount of fear. Early on, there were so many times when I felt I was just one crisis from losing it completely and my prayer was always, “Lord, please keep everyone safe. I can’t lose another one. I don’t have it in me.” I remember telling people I loved to be extra careful. Don’t get hurt. What I was really saying was, “Please, don’t die.”

As I’ve told you often, I don’t watch TV…I catch my news online so I can pick and choose what I watch. I have noticed changes in the last six months or so. I can concentrate enough to read a book now. I can knit again. I can even go to the movies…something I’d only done once since Mr. Virgo died. Mr. FixIt and I went last week and it was wonderful. Things are changing. Things are healing. And, while I don’t make a regular diet of the news, I have watched the news on occasion lately.

It’s culture shock. After not watching TV for years, watching it is…visceral. Politics. Severe weather. Fires. Crime. It’s been a difficult summer in the world. Last week I was transfixed by the case of Chris Watts. While the facts of the case are abhorrent, my interest was from a psychological standpoint. I saw his interviews with the press. I watched his body language. I knew he was lying. And, I knew he was going to blame his wife for killing the girls and then he was going to say it was a crime of passion. It was like the script was written all over his face. Then, yesterday, they found the body of Mollie Tibbetts after a high profile search. Another layer of the onion of grief was pulled back to reveal a deep fear.

Being a grandmother, one cannot watch stories such as these without thinking of your grandchildren. I realized I had watched too much…dived too deep… when I spent the night clutching my pillow to my chest and begging God to protect my people. I felt riddled with anxiety. My granddaughters are adolescents…attractive, smart, gregarious. I want them to be invisible. I want them to walk around with a force field. I want them to stay in their rooms till they are forty. But, of course I don’t really. I want them to live their lives. I want them to be joyful. I want them to learn and have adventures and be strong women. I just want them to be safe.

I will back away from the television now. It causes me dis-ease. I cannot control the world. I can’t keep bad things from happening. I can’t hover over my children and grandchildren. But I can send out as much love and light into the world as I can. And I can encourage others to do the same. I can dish out heaping helpings of encouragement and positivity. With enough prayer and love and light, maybe we will see the change we so desperately hope for…we so desperately need. Walking strong in my faith, knowing who is really in control, soothes me. ?

Organizationally Challenged

Tue, 21 Aug 2018 01:30:23 -0600

“Ironic…Oprah’s De-Clutter issue on top of one of my piles. Oy!”

“But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.” 2 Chronicles 15:7 NIV

I am a well rounded individual. I know how to do a lot of different things. I know my way around a tool box, I can do just about any crafty thing, I can tow a camper across the country and back...several times. But, I’ve got to tell you...organization is NOT in my skill set. This is an old photo, taken in the “junk room” at the house I shared with Mr. Virgo when we lived in Denver. A lot of what you see here are art supplies and various papers...records, receipts, ephemera. Some of it was my mother’s and grandmother’s. But the biggest majority was my crap that I hauled around from house to house, paying perfectly good money to have it moved rather than bite the bullet and downsize.

In those days, downsizing was inconceivable to me. This was my STUFF! And, just like my first two husbands, Mr. Virgo hated it. Why do you think I call him Mr. Virgo? He and my second husband both were Virgos. Highly organized. Highly intolerant of piles. I, however, was all about the sparklies. I have the attention span of a toddler.

Downsizing was a really great step for me. I got rid of 95% of my personal belongings, but I still own too much stuff. At least that part is manageable now. My biggest challenge now is keeping track of papers I need. I have probably six tote bags in the bottom of the guest room closet filled with papers. That is a real problem when you need to find something specific. I bought a plastic tub and a box of hanging file folders and spent yesterday morning filing papers. I still have a long way to go. I’ll probably need a second box but progress is progress.

After it cooled down some, I mowed the four acres at the Ponderosa while Mr. FixIt worked on his camper that he’s selling. One of the jacks was bent and it took him over two hours to get the old one off and put the new one on. The new one was “universal”, meaning it should fit any camper. Nope. Poor guy had to lay under the camper and drill new holes to fit the mounting brackets. We finished working at the same time…just before dark. It made for a long, but satisfying day. It feels good when you accomplish things. ?

Into the Wilderness

Mon, 20 Aug 2018 01:30:18 -0600

“The wilderness of Colorado offered me a place of solace to grieve.”

“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” Matthew 4:1 NIV

When Mr. Virgo died and I went alone into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months, I was often faced with views such as this. Vast expanses of wilderness, as far as the eye could see. I could go days without seeing another soul. It was what my heart needed...to walk alone with God. To seek quiet counsel with my Father who could comfort me like no other. To feel free to express my emotions in ways that could release the pain and anguish without constraint. It was all part of the life-altering experience of loss and healing.

Pastor Justin spoke yesterday of what happened to Jesus after he was baptized. In Matthew, Chapter 4, Jesus had just been baptized and was led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness. There, he was met by the enemy who tempted him. After fasting for forty days and forty nights, Jesus was hungry. Satan scoffed at him saying, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” To which Jesus answered that man shall not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. The devil led him to a high point and commanded Jesus to jump, saying surely God’s angels would catch him and he would not be harmed. Jesus said, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” Again, the enemy took Jesus to the highest point and offered to give Him all of the kingdoms if He would just bow down and worship him. To which Jesus replied, and I paraphrase here…Get the heck away from me! I will serve only my Father in Heaven!

The Pastor brought up a couple of interesting insights that I want to share with you today. First, Jesus was baptized and received the Holy Spirit in the most remarkable way. When we receive the Spirit, we certain feel it to the depth of our soul. We are instantaneously changed…at a cellular level…into a new creation. When Jesus received the Holy Spirit, the sky literally opened up, and the voice of God declared to all that would hear…”This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased.” That had to be epic for those within hearing range. Then, the Holy Spirit was delivered down from Heaven in the form of a dove and landed on Jesus. Can you imagine watching this taking place?

Then, what was the first thing that happened? Did Jesus get up and say, “Wow…I feel different now.” Did he walk into favor and blessings and immediately start healing people? No. He was led, by the Holy Spirit, into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.

This is where we go as well. When we first accept Christ as our Savior, we don’t strut around like we’ve just won Best Actor. We don’t get showered with “super blessings” and everything becomes right in our world. If this is what happened to you, you might want to look back at the sincerity of your proclamation, because what really happens is…we are led into the wilderness. And we are bombarded by the enemy. He tempts us. He lies. He kills. He destroys. We may be bewildered by this because no one told us things were probably going to get mighty difficult when we choose this particular path. Because Satan is threatened by your faith. He hates it. He is jealous. He wants to whisper in your ear and fill you with doubt. We need to do what Jesus did…tell the devil to get away from you. You aren’t having any of this.

Pastor Justin pointed out…this temptation is a lie. The enemy is tempting you with things you already have. He may tempt you by causing your eye to wander to another when you already have a spouse at home. He may make you envy your neighbor they’re big fancy house when you already have a house of your own. He is offering you things you already have because he doesn’t have anything real to offer you. His offer is death.

When I look back at the challenges of the last several years, I see so many moments when I could have chucked it all in, but I stayed the course. Because, you never know when the blessing will come. There have been times in this writing journey that I have asked myself if it is worth it to keep going. Have I already said everything there is to say? Is it making a difference to anyone? It can be tiring. It can be frustrating. I sometimes struggle for a topic. But I listen for the still, small voice. And today, it spoke to me through a reader. In my Sunday Evening Prayer Circle, a reader told me she was praying for me and my ministry here. She said that my words have helped her and made a difference in her life. I’m not saying this to boast. I am saying this to praise the Holy Spirit who moved her to answer the question that I lifted up to God just this morning in church.

“Am I doing what You want me to do, Lord?”

The answer was, “Yes.”

Firsts Don’t Always Come Once

Thu, 16 Aug 2018 01:30:12 -0600

“Firsts don’t only come once.”

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3 NIV

The other day, I was reading a tweet from a gal that I follow. She was commenting about a deep feeling of grief she felt she had long ago left behind her. She is a widow and her youngest was off to college. Another “first”. They don’t always come in the first year. There are graduations, and weddings, and grandchildren, and vacations, and retirement...all things you thought you were going to get to do with your person.

When you are newly bereaved, the initial shock numbs you. You walk in a haze as you go through the motions of planning a funeral, greeting the attendees, and writing all those Thank You notes. Somewhere before too long, you start peeling back all these layers and grief continually bubbles up as you realize all the things you have lost along with your loved one. You have a sense of this loss up front. But you don’t realize how it will affect you when you get to those milestones. They can knock you down just as hard as some of the earlier waves of grief.

I watch Mr. Virgo’s grandchildren growing up on Facebook. I don’t have a relationship with his daughter, but she is kind enough to keep me connected so I can see the children. The little one is the spitting image of her grandpa. It twists my heart when I see her. When I realize he didn’t get to know them and they won’t get to know him, it makes me sad. Firsts…first grade…first dance recital…all the big “little” things grandparents are supposed to share with their grand babies. Daughter #2 will be planning a wedding soon. She and Mr. Virgo were very close. That will stir the waves.

There will always be these moments. This is the price you pay for love. If there is an upside, it is that the waves aren’t as big and they don’t last as long now. I have learned how to tap-dance around that hole in my heart without falling in…most of the time. My new relationship with Mr. FixIt is wonderful, but he doesn’t replace Mr. Virgo. You can’t replace someone you truly loved. Grief remains as a scar on your heart…and your life grows around it. ❤️

Date Night...”Mamma Mia - Here We Go Again!”

Wed, 15 Aug 2018 01:30:35 -0600

“Mamma Mia! I’ve always loved what Daughter #1 called ‘Singing and Dancing Movies’.”

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 NIV

We were at the mall the other day and I saw that Mamma Mia 2 was showing. I asked Mr. FixIt if he had ever seen the original and he said he hadn’t. Well, we couldn’t go see the second till he saw the first, so I downloaded it on i-Tunes. We watched it Monday night and he really enjoyed it.

Yesterday was mowing day at the Ponderosa and when we were finished, Mr. FixIt asked if I wanted to go see the new movie. Now, this would only be the second time he and I have gone to a movie together. We don’t even watch them at home. Because…I don’t watch TV. I can’t even tell you what the name of the movie was we saw last year. I don’t remember what it was about. All I know is it was LONG and I sat through it thinking of about a million other things I could be doing with that time.

This is a side effect of my grief. My attention span was that of a hamster. I didn’t read books…I didn’t do crafts or hobbies… and I certain didn’t watch TV other than The Voice and an occasion MASH rerun. Then, this spring, something changed. I picked up knitting again and made a pair of socks. It felt like such a HUGE accomplishment. I am actually reading a book. Slowly…ever so slowly. But I’m reading it. And now this…a movie!

We had a date! Like real people. We cooled off and cleaned up after mowing and headed to town. We got to the theater just in time to catch some of the previews. We shared a popcorn and a soda. The theater has those reclining seats so it’s just like sitting in your living room…only with a ginormous screen. I felt a thrill of excitement and reached over to squeeze Mr. FixIt’s hand. He turned to me a smiled. He knew this was BIG for me and he was happy for me…and, I dare say, a bit proud. These are such simple things for most people. When you have suffered loss, and grief, these simple things can be monumental…even after five years.

We both really enjoyed the movie. We both got a little teary-eyed at the end. When we were done, we had dinner at Chik-fil-A. We ran some errands since we were in town, and headed home after dark. It was a real live date! In the big picture, our relationship is still relatively young. It’s important to court each other and have a real date on occasion. Even when you’re retired and you can do pretty much whatever you want. It was a lovely reward for working so hard and something like that doesn’t break the bank.

“Mamma Mia…here we go again! My, my, how can I resist ya!” ❤️

Barking Up the Wrong Tree

Sun, 12 Aug 2018 01:30:30 -0600

“Messages from others have more to do with THEM than it does with YOU.”

“Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬ [bible.com/111/pro.3...](http://bible.com/111/pro.3.3.niv)

We have discussed this topic before, but there are so many new widows here now, I felt it deserved a reprise. It may be timely for some.

A week before the first “angelversary” of my husband’s death, I receive a text from someone close in his family.

My first thought was, “How nice. He knows it’s been almost a year and he’s writing to tell me he’s thinking of me.”

I opened the text and began to read. It was soon quite apparent this message was not one of condolence…or remembrance. No, this was something entirely different.

The text was regarding a story I had written in my blog about Mr. Virgo’s military record. This family member told me that Mr. Virgo had certainly NOT accomplished what he said he had. He was no war hero. He had been nothing more than a clerk in the Army and it was his father who had actually been the hero. He named about three things in the story I had written that he swore were untrue and maybe I should just keep the family stories out of my blog, you know…to keep my husband from being the laughing stock of his family and friends. He said the family always knew him to be prone to hyperbole, but they loved him in spite of it.

I was stunned. At first I was hurt. Then I was angry.

I waited three days before I responded. I’ve always found it’s a good idea to sit back and think about things before I jump in and perhaps say something I might regret later.

When I had thought carefully about my response, I wrote back. I told this family member that I was initially taken aback by his text. I said my husband had never given me any reason to doubt the veracity of his words or stories. Sure, he might have shined up a story for dramatic effect, but I had never, ever known him to lie to me. I told him he wasn’t with my husband in Vietnam so there was no way he could actually know exactly what he had done there.

I reminded him how much my husband loved him. How much we had prayed for him when he was ill. I told him I couldn’t understand what kind of person would write to a grieving widow one week before the anniversary of her husband’s death and say something like this. If Mr. Virgo were alive, I can guarantee he would NOT be happy with the way this guy was speaking to me.

The bottom line is this. My complete and total loyalty lies with the man I love. I will defend him, have his back, stand up for him, and fight for him…dead or alive…if I have to. I’m one tough mama bear when it comes to my own.

What kind of person would do this? And what could possibly be the motive? Jealousy? Anger over some past perceived slight? Whatever the reason, it is petty and small and demonstrates what is called “splitting behaviors” in psychological jargon. In other words…trying to cause trouble.

It can happen when there is a death in the family. It can happen with divorce. It can happen when there has been some sort of rift in a family. If it happens to you, I want to you remember one thing…

What this person says or does to you has absolutely NOTHING to do with you or your loved one. It has absolutely EVERYTHING to do with who this person is as a human and where he or she is in their own journey. You must not take it personally. When I first read that text, I couldn’t understand why he was saying these things to me. If his motive was to make me doubt my man, let me tell you…he was barking up the wrong tree. And, it’s just as true with Mr. FixIt today as it was with Mr. Virgo. I don’t need people like that in my life. People who try to stir up trouble. Who try to drive a wedge between me and the one I love and make me have doubts.

This was a valuable lesson for me that I learned in my grief. One of those things I’ll take forward and use throughout the rest of my life. I don’t have the time nor the inclination to involve myself in that kind of petty drama. Life is too short. ❤️

Hindsight

Tue, 07 Aug 2018 01:30:51 -0600

“Ahhh…the joy of youth!”

“Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3:13-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

If you could go back to a fork in the road of your life, what would you do differently? Was there that one moment that you made a split second decision only to immediately regret it? Or, did you labor over some long term plan that just didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to go? We all have those critical junctures, don’t we?

Sometimes life does offer you opportunities for do-overs, but not very often. I’ve had a couple, and the privilege was not lost on me. When I hit the bottoms of my barrel and my second marriage ended, I had an immense opportunity to rebuild my life from the ground up. It was a tremendous amount of work, but it was also tremendously fulfilling.

Losing Mr. Virgo was a life-shattering experience, but one in which there were incredible moments of personal growth. Again, I completely reinvented myself…I finally explored who I was and what I wanted my legacy to look like.

The young woman in this photograph is my friend Gail’s beautiful daughter who is traveling all over the world, teaching and learning. I look at what she is doing and marvel at her courage and strength, her stamina…her youth. While hers is not necessarily the course I would have taken, there are things I would have loved to do. I really wish I could have been a doctor. The opportunities with that would have been tremendous.

Acceptance of what was obviously God’s plan and not my own, shows me I am exactly where He wants me to be. If things were different, I would have my girls, my wonderful son-in-law and his family, my grandchildren. I wouldn’t have gone through the exact circumstances I needed to be who I am today. I wouldn’t have been married to the men I needed to be married to to learn the lessons I needed to learn. I wouldn’t have had Mr. Virgo. I wouldn’t have lost him. I wouldn’t have found love again with Mr. FixIt.

I love the freedom in this picture. It reminds me of my carefree youth and makes me smile. ❤️

Once Upon A Time...

Mon, 06 Aug 2018 01:30:56 -0600

“Your wedding day is your ‘Best Day Ever’. But what about attending weddings when you’re grieving?”

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Weddings are joyous occasions for family and friends to gather and witness two people joining in a lifelong commitment. Just like baptism is the outward sign of an inward commitment, so is a wedding. Mr. FixIt and I went to his granddaughter’s wedding on Saturday and it was so touching to hear her voice thicken with emotion as they said their vows. Toasts were given, tears of joy were shed, as well as tears of sorrow as the bride’s step-father passed away unexpectedly last summer. My heart went out to her mom...his widow...my sweetheart’s only daughter.

There have been times when a wedding cut me off at the knees. After a painful divorce many years ago, a wedding was a slap in the face…a reminder that my marriage had failed. My second to do so, actually. Then, after losing Mr. Virgo, it was a stab in my heart…a huge neon sign that read “You are a WIDOW!” Which, translated meant…”You are not married anymore!” That’s not really true…yet it is. It’s a heck of a place to be in your head.

I distinctly remember riding a city bus one time after my second marriage ended. There was a couple on the bus…sitting close, holding hands, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. I wanted to literally get up out of my seat and go slap them. After losing Mr. Virgo, my response was different. I wanted to tell every single person who was in a relationship to CHERISH EVERY MINUTE!!! I wanted to lecture them of the sin of taking their person for granted…for not appreciating every single thing, every word, every action the other did.

Attending a wedding when you are grieving, no matter what the cause, may be difficult. If you feel you just aren’t up to it, then by all means decline. I’m sure most people will understand. If the wedding is for a close family member or friend and you feel you need to go, pace yourself. Take breaks for a bit of fresh air or to go to the powder room. Hopefully, the bride has extended a “plus one” invitation and you can bring a friend for support. (I always encourage brides to extend a “plus one” invitation for widows/widowers as a courtesy. We sometimes need that extra boost of confidence a friend can provide.)

I am grateful to have come through that and can now attend a wedding…happy for the newlyweds. I can remember the past with less pain and more love. It is such a blessed relief to be in this place of peace. That being said…I was immensely relieved the bride and groom did not choose “At Last” for their first dance. ❤️

Playing Dress Up

Sun, 05 Aug 2018 01:30:22 -0600

“Playing dress up is fun. Mr. FixIt and me…at a wedding.”

“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

One of Mr. FixIt’s granddaughter’s got married yesterday. I bought an outfit when I was in Colorado. I needed something nice to wear to weddings...including Daughter #2’s when it comes around in the next year or so. It’s nice to have at least one dressy outfit, even though I don’t have very many occasions to dress up anymore.

Mr. FixIt came home with his tux the other day. He said he thought he would just dress at home and not bother toting it back and forth but I talked him out of that. First, he didn’t want his backside to look like he’d been sitting in a truck for an hour. And second, it was in the high 80’s…I knew he would be miserable.

He carried the tux in the church and headed to the room the men were dressing in. I killed time wandering around the church, reading the guest book, and chatting with early arrivals. Then someone said, “Here he comes!”

I turned around and caught my breath. I’ve never seen him in a tux before. Wow! I knew there was a reason I liked this guy! Don’t men look great in a tux? They are always so dashing and sophisticated…sort of like Sean Connery. I gave him my brightest smile and stuck to him like glue all afternoon.

The wedding was sweet, the bride was beautiful, the cake divine. The weather was perfect and everyone was happy…beyond the usual wedding day jitters. The Pastor told a story about the Velveteen Rabbit and compared it to marriage. We get older. We get a little worn and frayed around the edges. But we never become more genuinely real than we do when we are loved. What a lovely goal for a new marriage…to love and be loved until we are our most real selves.

There’s something about weddings. They bring out the sweetness in us. They bring us closer and remind us of what’s important in life. Love. They also remind us of love gone too soon. I always think of Mr. Virgo in times like this. I reflect. And, more often than not, I smile at the memories. ❤️

Vaya con Dios, Colorado!

Wed, 25 Jul 2018 01:30:24 -0600

“Goodbyes are always bittersweet.”

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37:23-24‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It is time. Three weeks ago, the time for my visit stretched long before me. And, in the blink of an eye...it is gone. Today I travel home to West Virginia. Goodbyes are always so bittersweet. Oh, how I miss my babies...big and little. How I miss my brother and the rest of my Colorado family and friends. How I miss being nearby and stopping to visit with Mr. Virgo whenever I want. But it can’t be helped. There are so many reasons why I don’t live in Colorado anymore.

The main impetus that led my move to West Virginia was two-fold. Economics made Colorado far out of my housing budget and caring for an elderly family member in my home state seemed appropriate. If I would have known that endeavor would have only last ten weeks, I likely would have done things differently. I may have kept my Colorado house and rented it out. I may not have purchased such a big camper. I may have more evenly split my time between Colorado and West Virginia. But, hindsight being 20/20, it is what it is and I wouldn’t have changed a thing if I could.

Moving to West Virginia was the path my life needed to take. I needed to feel the freedom of living on my own. I needed to feel the love and connection of caretaking my family farm, which turned out to be the ultimate conclusion of the elder care situation. I needed the social group my hometown afforded me. And, most importantly of all…destiny brought Mr. FixIt and me together! He is such a joy to have in my life and I can’t imagine him not being there.

One of the downsides to living so far away is the limited amount of time my family has to spend bonding with Mr. FixIt. They don’t feel the connection with him that they felt with Mr. Virgo. You can’t develop a loving bond with someone you have a couple of dinners with over a period of a week or so. I understand that. I just hope they can understand my commitment to him and why I live where I do and not near them. It tears at a mother’s (and grandmother’s) heart when you can’t be near them always. The other side of the coin is, travel goes both ways. So do phone calls and texts and FaceTiming. It’s a new time in our lives. A new adjustment. A new phase.

I know where they are coming from, though. When my mom lived in West Virginia and I lived in Colorado, it used to drive me crazy. I wanted her to move to Colorado where I could help her more. I wanted her to have access to excellent healthcare. I wanted her close where I could watch over her. I guess what it boils down to is…I wanted more control. (Ahhhh, it always boils down to control, doesn’t it?) My girls saw me struggle to help my mom long distance. They don’t want to have to do that, too. I get that. But, NOW I totally get where my mom was coming from. Whereas I though she was being terribly stubborn and unreasonable, I now see she was living the way SHE wanted to live…WHERE she wanted to live. I wish I could have understood that more at the time. I think I would have been more gentle with her.

At any rate…I have promises from all my Colorado family that we will make a concerted effort to reach out more and stay connected by the various media channels we have access to. And…my sweet and handsome all-time BEST friend in the whole wide world will be standing in Columbus Airport today welcoming me home with the very best hug on the planet!!! I wouldn’t trade that for ANYTHING!

Vaya con Dios, Colorado…I’ll be back as soon as I can! ❤

You Are The Light of The World

Tue, 24 Jul 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“You are the light of the world.”

““You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:14-16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“Everybody’s got tsuris.” So said the late Rose Saliman, my younger daughter’s great grandmother and namesake. Everyone has problems. Everyone has garbage they drag through their lives, adding heaping helpings from here and there till they can hardly move along their path, let alone enjoy it. And when you can finally move away from that, when you unload your baggage and stop dragging it around with you, it’s not only a beautiful thing. It’s a blessed relief.

I had lunch with Daughter #2 yesterday. My children and grandchildren are the lights of MY world. It’s nice when they make me feel like a star in their sky. My younger daughter is doing well. She has found her stride. She has found her people. She is happy. That wasn’t always the case. She has struggled all of her life feeling “different”. It wasn’t until the last few years she has been able to put a name to that and grow into who she really is. I saw a peace and joy in her eyes yesterday that I’m not sure I have ever seen before. And that thrills this mom to no end.

She lives an alternative lifestyle. She has tattoos everywhere. She had such a dark struggle in adolescence. In the depths of her despair, she was a cutter. It was extremely difficult to watch. I cannot imagine the pain she was going through personally. I believe this all stemmed from her inner being not matching her outer self. She didn’t fit in. You and I both know what happens when kids don’t fit in. Add the family strife of divorce, parents with bad coping skills, and the general turmoil of adolescence and it was a volatile mix for my sweet girl.

To see her today is such a joy. To see the light and life in her eyes lets my shoulders relax a little when I didn’t even realize I was holding tension there. I’m one of the only people, if not THE only person, in our family she can completely confide in and not feel judged or awkward. I don’t always understand or necessarily agree with some of her lifestyle choices, but I can love her and listen to her. I can hold on to her and let her know she is a light in the world. She is built on a hill and should not be hidden…certainly not by me. She is my lovey…my sweet Moon Pie. I’m proud to call her mine.

As we reluctantly said goodbye after lunch, we hugged for a long time in the parking lot in Cherry Creek. When we finally pulled apart, she held my hand as she stretched away. Suddenly she came rushing back and held me close again, burying her face in my neck. I took a deep breath of her hair and skin and memorized them till we see each other again. My eyes stung with tears. I wish I could have been a better mom to her when she needed it the most. I wish I could have given her everything she needed to grow along the way so she didn’t have to struggle. I wish I could have protected her from all the things that caused her pain. However, if I had been a better mom, if I could have given her every good thing, if I could have protected her from all the things that brought pain to her tender heart…she still would be who she is today. A Tattooed Warrior Princess with some anxiety and depression and a kick-a** determination to thrive. She isn’t ashamed of who she is and I love her for that.

Goodbyes are bittersweet, but feeling her love filled my heart with an indescribable joy. ❤

“Whoever gets sense loves his own soul; he who keeps understanding will discover good.” ‭‭Proverbs 19:8 ESV

50,000 Mile Tune-Up...or...How EMDR Saves My Brain

Tue, 17 Jul 2018 01:30:47 -0600

“EMDR reprograms your brain.”

“Behold, I will bring it health and cure, and I will cure them, and will reveal unto them the abundance of peace and truth.” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭33:6‬ ‭KJV‬‬

A little over five years ago, I sat on a stool in the corner of an emergency room and watched them do CPR on my husband. It went on FOR-EV-ER. Stop. Start. Shock. X-Ray. Start. Stop. Check. Shock. Over and over and over. I sat with my hand clasped over my mouth to keep from screaming. I wrapped my feet intricately around and through the legs of the stool to keep from jumping up and running away. My shoulders slumped...my free hand dug into my thigh so I could feel something other than horror. And all of that...all of the valiant efforts, all of the shouts for more drugs, all of the hustle and bustle and orchestrated chaos could not save him. He died in spite of the best efforts of the Western Slope’s best and brightest. He died. And I could do nothing to stop it.

I ran away in my camper for three months. I busied myself. I “dated” a guy which turned out to be more about putting a tourniquet around my bleeding heart than it did about “love”. It had nothing to do with love. It had everything to do with escape. Then, one sunny afternoon at a fair in the park, a gentleman standing nearby choked. Like, Heimlich Maneuver choked. And I was frozen. Instead of jumping in as I had been trained to do…as I was certified to do…a movie started playing in my head as I stood in the park. Suddenly, I was back in the ER, sitting on the stool, watching them do CPR on my husband. It went on FOR-EV-ER. I mean, I KNEW I was in the park. So why was I “seeing” this rerun?

The rerun scared the crap out of me. And, I immediately associated it with a medical emergency…both my husband’s heart attack and the gentleman choking on chicken. I began to dread what might happen if there was a real emergency and I couldn’t step up to the plate. I avoided being in situations where someone could get hurt or sick or…God forbid…NEED me. I suffered wave after wave…not only of grief, but also anxiety. To the point of vomiting uncontrollably for hours. Simply put, I was a mess.

I went to see my doctor and asked her if she could recommend a grief counselor. And when I first talked with her, she said, “Ginny, I think you have PTSD.” She told me she wanted to do something called EMDR on me. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It is THE most accepted PTSD treatment. Normally, when we experience a disturbing event, our brains process it and file it away neatly in it’s appropriate folder in our memory bank and life goes on. But, when the event is associated with trauma…like watching prolonged CPR…something happens in the filing process and the memory gets stuck. It is like a video playing on a continuous loop…over and over and over. The thought becomes intrusive…meaning, unbidden. Uncontrollable. It creates fear. And it is terribly distressing.

After the first EMDR treatment, the improvement was extraordinary. It’s non-invasive and is accomplished so simply. You sit in a comfortable chair, You conjure up the image that is giving you the most trouble…no matter how painful it is. You hang onto that thought while watching the practitioner move her finger back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across your field of vision. You follow her finger with your eyes. The rapid eye movement actually reprograms your brain. It can make the memory fade. It can change it into something else. It can process it and let it go into the file with all the other memories. And it can release you from the pain of seeing it over and over and over.

I really did well. My anxiety level was lower. I had few, if any, real panic attacks. I still dealt with grief waves, but not the horrifying repetitious movie starring CPR. Then, about a year and a half ago, I started having episodes of anxiety again. About once a week or so, I would spend the night sick as a dog. I couldn’t keep anything down. I began to dread going places. I began to fear medical situations again. What began slowly, started cranking up more and more and with every insult to my central nervous system, it got worse. Surgery cranked it up. The episode with my aunt with dementia cranked it up. Flying cranked it up. Being away from Mr. FixIt cranked it up. I texted my grief counselor, Karen, and told her I thought I needed an EMDR tuneup so we scheduled it to coincide with my trip this week to visit my brother.

As I caught up with her yesterday, I told her about Mr. FixIt and how happy we are. We talked about all the really good, positive changes that have come into my life. Then she asked what happened a year and a half ago that started the cycle again. I told her about the car accident. She asked what it was about that that triggered me and I surprised myself by bursting into tears. I sobbed and covered my face.

“I thought I killed her!” I cried.

“Who?”

“The young girl in the backseat! Her head was lolled over, her face was bloodied. Her mama cradled her head in her hands and begged her to wake up. The man who was driving ran at me screaming, “You killed her! She was supposed to turn 17 this week!!!””

I sobbed and Karen put her hand on my knee.

“Oh, Ginny…that had to be terrifying.” She comforted me with her soft, caring voice. “I think that’s it. I think that is what has prodded your PTSD awake.”

Just like grief, you don’t get “cured” of PTSD. It can raise it’s ugly head just like unexpected waves of grief can overtake you at any given moment.

We did a session of EMDR. We repeated it eight times or so. With each subsequent series of back and forth movements, it felt as though someone were turning down the volume knob like a radio in my brain. The first series resulted in me feeling immediately calmer. The second made me feel like I had taken a step back and I wasn’t sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck. I was in the back seat. The third set had me standing behind the truck. The fourth set had me even further behind the truck…like zooming out on a long camera lens. I was surprised by the fifth set. I had a flash of the young girl going to prom. The implication being…she was fine and healthy. Each subsequent set of movement took me further and further into this relaxed, soft, safe place. It is remarkable something so simple can have such a huge impact.

I had not cried about the accident up to that point. I had not processed, or even acknowledged, the trauma of thinking I had killed someone. Of being verbally and physically challenged by the other driver. And we all know that unprocessed trauma, like unprocessed grief…festers. It does not serve us to grit our teeth and white-knuckle our way through these episodes. From now on I will be proactive and get the help I need instead of trying to handle it on my own. I can’t tell you how much better I feel. When I got home from the mountains yesterday, my son-in-law’s dad made the observation that even my voice was different…relaxed, easy, slower. There is no shame in admitting you need help to work through something. We women think we are supposed to have it all together. I told a friend the other day that I just want to be normal. She smiled and said, “Sweetie, you ARE normal. Everybody has something they have to deal with. What you want is perfection!’ Ahhhh…she knows me well.

None of us are perfect. Ask for help if you need it. Don’t try to just get by with a stiff upper lip. Just “getting though it” is no way to live. ❤

What Is This Wet Stuff?

Mon, 16 Jul 2018 01:30:36 -0600

“What is this wet stuff???”

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I was sitting with my friend, Terri, yesterday when I heard this loud roaring noise. At first, I thought the air conditioner had gone on the fritz. I looked out the window and saw sunshine so I knew it wasn’t rain. I looked around, puzzled. Suddenly, everyone jumped up and ran to the windows. Rain! It really was raining. And pretty darned hard, too. Since the sun was out, there was an impressive rainbow. But do you think I ran and got my camera to document the event? Oh, heck no! I might have missed the whole storm. And rain is NOT something you want to miss in this semi-arid climate.

Colorado is parched. The grass crackles under your feet. Miss one day watering your plants or lawn and you have nothing but pale straw colored spikes. You know it’s a dry summer when the headline on the news alert coming out of Denver is “IT’S RAINING!” The other night, my son-in-law’s dad got the call…there would be no more water in the ditch. They own shares in the irrigation ditch…along with a gazillion other people. The ditch hasn’t dried up in years. I hope what little bit of rain we received here yesterday will help ease the fire danger. These people don’t live with “IF” when it comes to fires. They live with “WHEN”. It’s scary.

I visited Mr. Virgo’s grave again. I cleared away the old decorations and try as I might, I couldn’t find anything to replace them. I’ll clean up the cross and put it back on his grave before I leave tomorrow. As I sat there talking to him, I told him it was time to order his headstone. I just haven’t done it. It’s the “last thing”. I thought perhaps I was being remiss in not getting this part done. But I have been assured by many others I’m not alone. I mean, I’m in a new relationship. I’m happy. Mr. Virgo would be thrilled that I am living my life. Setting that headstone is sealing the past in the past. I’m ready to do that now. As soon as I told him I was going to order his stone, the bluebirds came. They circled around and around…a dozen or more of them. I laughed and said “Ok, Ok…I see you!” When I finally pulled out of the cemetery, the bluebirds followed along beside my car all the way down the hill. It was stunning! I left feeling optimistic…and somewhat relieved. I’m ready. ❤️

The Pillar of Truth

Thu, 12 Jul 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“The Legend if the Pillar of Truth”

“Now, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1 KJV

Once upon a time, in a beautiful palace in Heaven, the was a crystal pillar resting on a stand. It was The Pillar of Truth. There were no flaws within this crystal and every angle reflected the perfect truth to its observers. This was a cherished object in Heaven. There were a band of angels whose job it was to polish this stunning pillar til it glistened in the sunlight that filtered into the palace.

On occasion, a novice pillar polisher would be needed and some young angel would get the opportunity to become an apprentice. This was a great honor, as all of the truth was held within this stone. The angels took their assignment quite seriously.

One day, a new novice crept into the pillar room to gaze upon the glorious piece. She couldn’t get enough of it during the long hours of polishing so she had to come in alone while the other angels were sleeping. As she stared into the depths of the crystal, she felt she could literally reach inside and learn vast, great things. She reached out and placed her hand on the cold surface and could feel the energy within. She was mesmerized. When she finally pulled her hand away, she could see a distinct smudge on the surface and she was appalled. She whipped out her polishing cloth and rushed forward to wipe away the mess she had made.

As the little angel plunged forward, her toe caught on the hem of her robe and she stumbled into the pillar. It rocked and tipped. She stood there and held her breath, hoping it would right itself, but instead…the great Pillar of Truth tipped over, crashing onto the marble floor into a million gazillion tiny slivers. Oh! What ever was she going to do? Surely the sound of the great crash would bring the other angels running in any minute! She ran to the closet and grabbed a large broom and began to sweep the tiny shards out the door of the palace where they fell onto the surface of a cloud.

As the slivers built up within the cloud, moisture began to gather on them and just as the last dustpan full of shards were dropped onto the cloud, a great strike of lightning and clap of thunder resounded throughout Heaven and a heavy rain began to shower earth.

As the rain came down, everyone on earth came out to look in awe, because every drop of rain held a rainbow…a prism of light reflected off the tiny slivers of The Pillar of Truth. They held their faces up to the warm rain and when they did so, the tiny shards from the pillar pierced their eyes. They felt no pain, but they knew something was different. They knew, without a shadow of a doubt that what they saw, what they knew, what they had learned, and what they believed was THE truth. The ONLY truth

And this is how it happened that people all over the world, in every walk of life, in every faith, with every dogma came to believe that their way was the ONLY way. That others were wrong if they believed differently. This perceived “truth” fractured the world and caused deep rifts between the many factions of society.

I am a Christian. This is how I identify. I love the Lord. I follow Him as best I can. I know I will differ with some. There are many paths in this world. I choose the one with Jesus. I am willing to share mine. I am willing to learn of yours. And, I will not ever tell you you are wrong and only I am right. As far as I know, there has not been a team of investigative journalists go to Heaven, document how it all works, and come back with the evidence. For me, personally…I have faith that there is a Heaven. I believe Hell is the complete absence of God…a place I have been and never wish to return to.

Every branch of Christianity, every walk of faith thinks their way is the only way. They all have a shard from The Pillar of Truth in their eye. What is the exact answer? This is where faith come in. ❤

Risky Behaviors

Thu, 28 Jun 2018 01:30:45 -0600

“A lone little daisy…all on her own.”

“For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding;” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭2:6‬ ‭ESV

A friend of mine tagged me on a Facebook post yesterday. It seems there was a woman walking the Quincy Hill steps alone when she was approached by someone with nefarious intent. She said every bell and whistle was going off and she knew if she hadn’t been able to get away and outrun this guy, something bad would have happened. My friend knows how many times I have climbed those steps alone. She wanted me to know so I would be more careful.

I haven’t walked those steps alone for about two years now. For a number of reasons, not the least of which is my knees giving me fits from walking said steps so much. But also, my common sense seems to have returned to me after taking a few years off after losing Mr. Virgo.

I don’t know for sure what prompted me to put myself in risky situations when I was a new widow. Probably part of it was just being in such a fog, I couldn’t think through all the potential consequences. But a very real part of it was…I really didn’t care if I lived or died. And when the pain was brutal in the early years, I believe I would have actually welcomed death over the seemingly never ending horror grief brought down on me.

I think back. Would I get in a camper and travel into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months now. The answer is yes, without a doubt. Would I hike three hours into the Weimenuche Wilderness with nothing but a small daypack now. No, I don’t think I would. Would I live in a camper and travel the country alone. Yes, I would…in a heartbeat. Would I stand out in the surf during the storm surge of a hurricane without a life jacket now? Oh, h*** no!!!

I seem to have gained some common sense back in the last year or so. I care again. I’m a bit more cautious now. Not in a fearful way, but in a careful way. In a way that says I have a lot of living left to do…I want to do that. The only real regret I have is that I tried to date WAY to soon after losing Mr. Virgo. That was an incredibly painful experience…not only for me, but for the other party as well. It wasn’t fair to do that to him.

The bottom line is, we need to be gentle with ourselves when we are going through grief. The impact runs so much deeper than we can comprehend while we are in the throes of it. And, the flip side is…things do get better after a time. A new normal. ❤

‬‬

It’s Popsicle Time!

Wed, 27 Jun 2018 01:30:05 -0600

“There’s nothing more soothing than a Popsicle when you are recovering from surgery!”

“For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord...'” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭30:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I cannot remember a time in my life that didn’t include Popsicles. One of my earliest memories is my mom breaking a twin pop to share with my brother on a hot summer day. Orange was always my favorite, but grape runs a close second. Or is it cherry? I never liked banana. Other than that, it was fair game.

As I was recuperating from this surgery, some things became apparent to me. The last time I had surgery was in 1999 when I had my sinuses done. Not a pleasant surgery with nasal splints and sleeping sitting up in a recliner. But still, I was 46. It was a relative walk in the park. As we…ummmm, “ripen”…we don’t bounce back quite as fast as we used to. Anesthesia and 3-4 Vicodin over a 24 hour period and I was toast. The pain was well-controlled, but I just hate the feeling narcotics gives me so I switched to Tylenol. Everything was going along pretty well, except I was really tired. Then, Monday night the pain hit. A burning, stabbing pain deep in the area where the tumor was removed kept me awake all night. I finally drifted off around 5:00am and slept a couple of hours.

As I lay there awake, I read the Bible, did my devotionals, caught up with everyone on Facebook, chatted with my son-in-law’s mom in the middle of the night, and Googled “pain after excisional biopsy of the breast”. It seems to be pretty normal to get to the fourth or fifth day and start feeling some pretty significant twinges in the surgical area. For one thing, all the numbing and anesthesia is completely gone. Things are starting to knit back together and that means some nerve pain as you heal. The area where my tumor was is directly behind the nipple and that is some pretty tender territory. Remember nursing? That little baby latching on with jaws of steel could send you through the roof. Imagine getting sliced and diced in that general area and no sweet baby to distract you.

I gave up trying to sleep and headed to town with Mr. FixIt for several errands. When we were finished, we went to the farm so he could finish mowing. I spoke with my uncle on Monday and he and my aunt (his and my mom’s sister) are coming Thursday for an overnight visit. I needed to get the house in tip top shape for company so I spent the afternoon fixing up the three beds with fresh sheets, airing out the house, and sweeping up a winter’s worth of dead Asian Lady Bugs in the upstairs bedrooms. I washed bedding and fluffed and primped everything to perfection. I’m really looking forward to them coming and staying the night. It’s my first family company since I took over the caretaking duties at the farm. This is the aunt who lived at the farm for years and it is her first visit back since she went to live with her brother. I want her to enjoy it and feel pampered.

I’ll make them some yummy treats for Thursday. His favorite is yellow cake with penuche frosting. Hers is butterscotch pie. I’m so excited to see them! We’ll drive up the new road behind the farm that goes out to the compressor station they are building. That might be bittersweet for them. I know it is for me.

And now, the news we have all been waiting for. I received my biopsy report yesterday. The tumor was indeed a fibroadenoma. It is the most common benign breast mass. Benign = NOT CANCER! The other day I was talking about when I was prayed over and anointed. And it turns out to be benign. I want to point out something. Yes, God can still heal. He can perform miracles. AND…there are plenty of wonderful, GOOD Christians who pray faithfully and they still get cancer. Cancer doesn’t play favorites. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you are rich or poor, black or white or any other color of the rainbow. It doesn’t care if you’re a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim or an atheist. It doesn’t care. Something triggers cells to multiply abnormally. It’s as simple as that. My faith tells me God can answer prayers. And sometimes…unfortunately…the answer is no and a bad diagnosis comes. It is one of the horrible thieves that rob us of life and health. I am very grateful that my (and your) prayers were answered in a positive way. Thank you so much for caring. Now I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Just rest and heal and head to Colorado in a week!!! ❤

Killing the Spider

Tue, 26 Jun 2018 01:30:01 -0600

“In that day you will ask nothing of me. Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.” ‭‭John‬ ‭16:23-24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I used to hear “Wouldn’t it be awesome if people wouldn’t leave their houses without their Bibles like they worry about forgetting their cellphones?” Now, unless you have a phone from the stone ages, you can download the Bible app and have it with you wherever you go.

I had the app on my phone for a long time before I regularly used it. I guess I sort of thought I would absorb it by osmosis or something. But, like taking a necessary medication, it doesn’t work if you leave it on the shelf. You have to do your part and read.

Along with the Bible app comes a feature that allows you to participate in devotionals. You can gather groups to do these devotionals with you. My small group at church does this together. It’s nice having a sense of community and having some accountability to study the Word every day. I actually participate in several devotionals. One I really enjoy comes by e-mail from the Proverbs 31 Ministry. Yesterday morning, I received one written by Carlos Whittaker entitled “Kill the Spider”. Carlos was about to attend a weeklong “therapy” session but told his dad he was going on a “retreat”. It sounded gentler. His father, being a minister, said he wanted to tell him a story. He had once held a week long Revival in Panama. A woman came forward, painstakingly slow, and asked that he pray to have the cobwebs removed from her life. He prayed fervently for her. The next night, the same woman came forward, a bit more energetically, and requested the same prayer. Hesitating, he did so. By the third night, the woman was much improved, but again, asked for the cobwebs to be removed from her life. He stopped and said, “I think we are praying for the wrong thing.” He bowed his head and said, “Lord, please come kill the spider that is creating cobwebs in this woman’s life!”

What a wonderful lesson this was. We all have cobwebs. We all have spiders. It doesn’t make any sense to pray for the removal of the cobwebs…the after effects of the spiders in our lives. We must eradicate the spiders…those people and circumstances that are causing the problems we have to clean up after. Sometimes we just have to clean house and get rid of the spiders. I shared this with a couple of my friends yesterday who remarked that sometimes they have tarantulas! So true!

What spiders are filling your lives with cobwebs today? Do you want to keep sweeping out the corners, or are you ready to kill the spider? As Carlos reminds us, we have the same power within us that rolled away the stone. Draw on that power. Believe in that power and it is amazing what changes God can bring about in your life. ❤

The Difference in One Letter

Mon, 25 Jun 2018 01:30:42 -0600

“Your focus will dictate how you fare in this life.”

“The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭138:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Medication.

Meditation.

The difference is in the focus. Where we put our energy. Where we let our thoughts go. What we believe will work.

I opted for the “quick fix” back in the day. I had an inordinate amount of trust in doctors and Western Medicine. I trusted in the diagnosis. I was younger. More naive. I craved escape. I was afraid. Of everything…life, love, and losing it all. And, consequently…I nearly did.

When we are faced with life’s troubles, we have choices. We can run and hide. We can deny and bargain. We can grit our teeth. We can escape in the clouds of drugs and alcohol. Or, we can face the truth, stand as tall as we can, and surrender to a higher power than ourselves.

Control. Oh, we do so want control, don’t we? We want to control the process. We want to control the outcome. We want to control the pain. But we don’t really have the control when it comes to circumstances. It’s life. It’s messy. It’s sometimes hard. It’s oftentimes more beautiful than we have words to describe.

I remember when I first started recovering from the overdose and subsequent divorce. I bought self-help books. I was confused by terms like “boundaries” and “values”. I questioned my purpose in life. I struggled along for four years trying to get a handle on how to be a “normal”, functioning adult. Then my mom died and I turned from the self-help section to God. I was obviously not helping myself very well. I needed help from the Master. I bought The Purpose Driven Life and things started to change for me. I have come to realize the bottom line is…if you have a pulse, you have a purpose. And if you listen, God will tell you what that purpose is.

I’m being gentle with myself this week. This was NOT a big surgery. I’ve had much, much worse, but I wasn’t sixty-five then. I can’t control my age or my body’s reaction to anesthesia and medication. I can control my response. I can rest and pray and meditate instead of medicate. Each day is better than the one before it. ❤️

Let Freedom Ring!

Sun, 24 Jun 2018 01:30:46 -0600

“Let Freedom Ring!”

“For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I just finished writing July’s post for the Sisters on the Fly blog. I wrote about the many freedoms we are blessed with beyond Independence Day. The audience for that blog is women campers. There is a certain reservation in my writing there as I am paid to do so. Therefore, I am somewhat constrained in my topics. I always check in with them ahead of time, find out what their theme of the month is, and write accordingly. It’s not like this blog where I speak my heart and my truth. So I’ll write the “Marshmallow Ranch” version of that blog here.

Independence Day. The 4th of July is coming soon. Images of family gatherings, cookouts, baseball games, fireworks. That’s what it’s all about, right? Well, yes…and no. In 1776, our forefathers of this nation set forth a document that outlined our beliefs pertaining to our independence from Great Britain. Man made laws that apparently gave us our freedom. However, we were given freedom long, long before this document was drawn up. At least…we were given the choice.

We were given freedom from the weight of our past. Our sins. I am reminded of a weight I used to carry that I finally put down eighteen years ago. In the ‘80s and ‘90s, I had a problem. I was a doctor’s wife and as such, I was highly over treated medically. I was given drugs freely and when I cried out for help, I was stifled. I was given more drugs and more drugs. I took up drinking with a vengeance. I was dying as fast as I could and it wasn’t fast enough so I took two bottles of pills and almost finished the task.

Thank God, I am a different human being now. I got the help I needed. I found the people who listened. And I got away from the situation that sent me down that path. On occasion, I get a reminder of what that life was really like. Case in point…I had surgery on Thursday and was given a narcotic pain reliever. In such a case, I will take these…reluctantly. But, let me tell you…I am EXTREMELY cautious. I do not like how they make me feel. I don’t like the fuzziness. I don’t like the disconnection from my surroundings. I hate the dry mouth and the upset stomach. And I hate the feeling I get when I stop taking them. Even just taking them for 24 hours, I feel a sinking darkness that comes over me. For the life of me, I cannot understand how I could have taken so much of this stuff back in the day. I couldn’t function. I wasn’t participating in life…in the lives of my family. It is just a sad reminder of what we all went through because a referral pattern is a terrible thing to waste. I was a doctor’s wife, after all. His colleagues had to go above and beyond. It was a brutal time.

I will not submit to the yoke of slavery that drugs and alcohol brought into my life. I am judicious in my choices and stand firm in that because quitting was, aside from losing Mr. Virgo, the most difficult thing I ever had to do. Not the quitting itself. I was delivered from that immediately. Navigating the devastation it left behind in my family was where I struggled. It was horrible for everyone involved. I am grateful for this new life…this healing I was given when I gave up and asked Jesus to take over. I will celebrate my Independence Day as January 6th…the day of my overdose. The day I stepped into the void and came out again. Let freedom ring! ❤

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Empty Nest

Sat, 23 Jun 2018 01:30:46 -0600

“The empty nest can be painful, no matter which of you leaves first.”

“For I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you and for those at Laodicea and for all who have not seen me face to face, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God's mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. I say this in order that no one may delude you with plausible arguments. For though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good order and the firmness of your faith in Christ.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭2:1-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I got married young the first time. I was nineteen. I thought I knew everything! I was just about finished with x-ray training. Hubby #1 and I literally grew up together. Our families have known each other since long before we were born. The day after graduation, I hopped on a plane and flew to England to join him. He was stationed there in the Air Force. I had never been on a plane before. I cannot imagine what that must have been like for my mom. She still had my brother at home. He has a developmental disability and always lived at home with her, so she never did have that “empty nest”. But I know she missed me terribly and it had to have been so worrisome for her to have me so far away the very first time I left home.

My older daughter got married when she was twenty-one. It wasn’t too long after that when she and her new husband moved to Long Island. I thought THAT was way too far and it just about killed me. I was having trouble in my marriage. Her younger sister was only five years old. I hated having them so far away. I visited as often as I could, but it was a really hard time for both of us. We had always been very close. A half-empty nest is just as painful.

I’ve watched my friends go through letting their children go. When my younger daughter left home for college, it was a different story. First, I had had children at home for thirty-three years. I was in a new marriage and in a much happier space. And, she was only going to be a couple of hours away. It was an entirely different story when the nest emptied out completely.

But what happens when it’s the opposite and it’s your MOM that pulls up roots and leaves? That’s what’s happening to one of my friends in my small group from church. She is young…younger than my Daughter #2. Her brother, her two sisters, her nephew, and her mom are moving several states away and she is left here. In addition to that, they are selling the only home she has ever known. Her nest is being taken away. That has to be really hard. You just never think of it happening like this. It’s usually the other way around.

I always made it a point to go visit my West Virginia family at least once a year. I took my kids with me so they could feel that bond of family. I never dreamed I would up and leave my Colorado family like I have. Colorado was never really the home of my heart. West Virginia is. I usually visit my family twice a year but Mr. FixIt’s surgery in December kept me here this past winter. The grandchildren have grown so much in the past year since I’ve seen them. It seems like a lifetime ago. And my girls have aged…as have I. I remember there was a stretch of time when Hubby #2 was in medical school that I didn’t see my mom for over two years. I never want to do that with my family! I can’t imagine. She had to have been so sad.

Keeping those family bonds alive is so important. I’ll be there in a couple of weeks and stay for three weeks. I can’t wait to see them! Do you live far from your family? Do you get to see them very often? How long do you get to visit? I’d love to hear the things you do that make your visits extra special. I am always looking for new ideas to create lasting memories! ❤

Flying My Kite

Thu, 21 Jun 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“God is the tail of my kite…He anchors me.”

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:1‬ ‭KJV‬‬

When I was a little girl, my daddy always brought me a paper kite at the beginning of summer vacation. It was in a long, narrow plastic sleeve. You got two flat sticks, one long...one shorter...with slots cut in each end. You got a sheet of thin paper and some string. You fastened the two sticks in a cross shape first. Then you stretched your string around from end to end of the sticks, making a kite-shaped frame. You laid the frame on the paper and folded the edges over the string and glued them closed. Once the glue was dried, you attached string loosely from top to bottom and from side to side so you had something to attach the kite to the kite string with. The last thing you did was affix a tail. They didn’t give you this. You usually used some scrap material you had handy. You tore the material into two or three long strips about an inch wide. You cut one or two of the long strips into shorter pieces...maybe 4-5” long. These you tied every 6 inches or so down the long strip. Then you attached that long strip to the bottom of your kite and it became the tail.

Have you ever tried to fly a kite without a tail? You can’t. The wind picks it up then it goes around and around in frantic circles until it crashes down to the ground. My dad taught me you had to have an anchor so your kite would fly high and true.

Life is like that, isn’t it? You need something to anchor you in life or you just go around and around in circles. I spent a lot of my life unanchored. I crashed and crashed and crashed…over and over. I have heard it said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.” If this is true, how many of us are “insane”?

The secret to flying a kite successfully is letting go. You send the kite up in the air till the wind catches it, then you hold on to this little, tiny string. Not too tight…not too loose. You let the string out as the wind lifts the kite higher and higher. The anchor kept the kite upright and steady.

In my life, I found the only logical thing to do was to make God my anchor. It was He who was the most reliable. He wasn’t going anywhere. I had to participate. I had to hold the string and keep a watch on it as best I could. I had to do what I could to steer it from hazards like trees and electrical wires. I had to learn when to let it out, and when to reel it back. But, I had to let go of the tail. I had to let God do His thing so I could fly high and strong.

Today, I am having surgery. It’s not big deal, really. It’s called a “wire-guided excisional biopsy of the right breast”. This lump will be removed and sent to the lab where it will be prepared and observed under a microscope. The pathologist will review the slides and a diagnosis will be given. I am firmly convinced it is benign and we are just exercising an abundance of caution. That being said, no surgery is without risks and I will be getting general anesthesia. I’m not worried though. Because…I understand the risks, I have confidence in my doctors, and I have a really strong tail on my kite. God has this. If it’s good news…awesome. I’m done with it and can get on with my life. If it’s bad news, then God will use whatever comes my way to teach me, mold me, humble me, and remind me to come to Him when things are hard. It really is that simple.

I know this because I have faith. ❤

Drink Coffee...Pray Boldly

Sun, 17 Jun 2018 01:30:55 -0600

“Pray BOLDLY at every opportunity…even at coffee with the girls.”

“If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:5-8‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Yesterday was coffee day with the girls...those magnificent ‘71 Divas from my high school class. We didn’t all know each other in high school. We really became most acquainted through Facebook and efforts to gather as many classmates as possible for class reunions, dinners, picnics, and the like. We are, all to often it seems, meeting at funeral homes anymore. I decided four years ago us gals need to get together and form a tribe...a sense of community of the feminine...when I came back to West Virginia to live. Now, we look at our monthly meetings as caffeine fueled talk therapy and I’ve seldom missed it.

There weren’t as many gals gathered yesterday. Illness, hospitalization, vacations, and general summer business kept many of our regulars away. There were also a few who came that don’t get to attend very often. It’s always a different group but the dynamic is the same. We are there to have fun, let our hair down, laugh a lot, and offer support to one another as we learn what’s new in each other’s lives.

My friend Diane came and brought me one-third of my birthday present. She called the other day and wanted to meet up with me. We had a miscommunication and she ended up waiting for 45 minutes out at the farm and when it got too hot and I didn’t show up, she went home. She had to take my gifts with her…two-thirds of which were perishable. Yesterday, she gave me my card. Imagine my dismay when I learned of the flowers and chocolate covered strawberries she had brought me Wednesday! I felt so awful about that…she went to so much trouble. But, we laughed it off. She gave the flowers to a friend she had dinner with that night and ate the strawberries on the way home so all was not lost!

When the majority of the gals had left for the day, my friend Lisa and I sat and talked to one of our friends who hung behind. She confided that we looked like someone who could help her. She had a prayer request. We talked about it a while, offering advice and comfort. When she asked for prayers, Lisa (you remember her from a previous post a month or two ago) took our friend’s hand and said, “Well, let’s just pray now.” The three of us sat in a very public area of the historic hotel where we gather, held hands and prayed together. Boldly. Unashamed. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even think about it until later.

There was a time in my life when I looked at people praying over their meal in a restaurant or holding hands together in public, praying, and I felt…I don’t know…uncomfortable, self-conscious, embarrassed for them? I was decidedly unenlightened in those days yet I thought I was SO evolved. In the last several years, I have become much bolder with prayer. There is no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed to offer prayer anytime the Spirit moves you or you are asked. I was really happy to be able to pray with my friends. I always ask God to bring me more prayer opportunities and the bravery to carry them out. It is an honor and a privilege.

Today is Father’s Day. For some of you, it is the first without your loved one and the firsts are hard…and sometimes the third and the tenth and….. Please know that I will pray boldly for you today that you know God is with you to offer comfort and solace in your broken places. You are so loved! ❤

Walking the Farm

Fri, 15 Jun 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“Wildflowers along the back road of the farm.”

“Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭96:11-12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When Mr. FixIt asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I immediately answered...

“I want to stay at the farm for a couple of days!”

We came out Wednesday evening and set to cleaning. It’s amazing how an old house gets itself dirty all on its own. We had a light supper, played a few hands of cards, and I enjoyed several phone calls for my birthday. Yesterday morning, I cooked a big breakfast and we headed up the hill for a good hike to burn it off.

“Building the compressor station on that far ridge.”

It was noon before we got on our way so by the time we got to the top of the hill, the sunny stretch without trees, it was HOT! We carried enough water with us to get us back. We stopped at Mount Zion Church and signed the guest book as we always do. The hickory tree just next to the cemetery is loaded with nuts. I wanted to go on up the hill to see the compressor station, but I couldn’t believe the amount of traffic coming and going. We sat at the church for a while to catch our breath, then headed back.

“Hickory nuts.”

At this point, I was getting blisters from my hiking boots. A woman came by in one of the company trucks and I asked if she was going back down our road. She was…and we had a delightful conversation as I ogled the changes this construction has done to the landscape. Turns out, she is also a widow…her husband died of suicide nearly twenty years ago. She spoke of the breakdown she had afterwards and how she has no problem speaking about it as it raises awareness and calms the stigma surrounding mental health issues. I was very taken with her sunny, straight-forward disposition and she said she will look up Marshmallow Ranch and toot her horn when she passes by. I love that I can be five miles from nowhere and still reach people with a commonality.

“The new road past the old Mt. Zion Church, est. 1893.”

When we got home (and checked for ticks) we went for a drive and circled around a favorite backroad of mine looking for blackberries and wine berries. We found them, but they are a little ways from being fully ripe. Hopefully the critters (two-legged and four-legged) will not get to them before I do…it’s always a race. We stopped and watched the Painted Lady butterflies swarming on the milkweed flowers that have recently bloomed. I didn’t see any monarchs, unfortunately. Maybe next year I will order some from the internet and plant them out there. There’s such a huge concentration of milkweed in the area…it would be a great place to cultivate some beautiful butterflies.

“Milkweed and Butterflies”

We returned to the farm and checked our own patch of blackberries. Unfortunately, they are totally unreachable as they are tucked behind the burn pile that hasn’t been burned yet. My cousin’s wife Charlotte came to feed the kitties and got a surprise that we were there. We ended the day with a lovely dinner on the porch, another sunset, and more cards. When I’ve been at the farm for even a couple of days, I feel as though I’ve been on vacation for a week. But today it’s back to the Ponderosa and the chores.

“Wine berries growing alongside a country road.”

How can it be Friday already? Hope you have big plans for Father’s Day Weekend! ❤

“Curvy layers of sandstone.”

This Man KNOWS How Old I Am

Wed, 13 Jun 2018 01:30:45 -0600

“It’s not how many years in your life…but the life in your years!”

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

So, today is really monumental...huge...a BIG deal in anyone’s life. Today is my 65th birthday! I didn’t know how to feel about it this year. I let myself dwell on the obvious...I’m getting older. I let myself worry about the health issues I’m facing in the coming weeks. I thought about how Mr. Virgo would have SO enjoyed this accomplishment. I thought about how much I miss my Colorado family. I thought about my beautiful mom and how I called her every year on my birthday and thanked her for having me.

All this time, this wonderful man orbited me on a daily basis. Taking care of me. Loving me. Watching to see if there was anything I might need or any way he could support me better. For a couple of weeks, he was eclipsed by the hamster wheel of grief running in my brain. Then the wave was gone…receding into the background again. And I could see every blessing clearly.

Yes…I’m getting older. Isn’t that wonderful??? I’m getting older and bolder and my best days are in front of me. Adventure awaits at every opportunity.

Yes…I have some health issues to deal with in the coming weeks. Isn’t it terrific that I am blessed with great insurance that will take care of the bills so I can focus on healing and getting better after my upcoming surgery instead of worrying about how I’ll pay for it all? Blessings come in dark colored packages sometimes.

Yes…Mr. Virgo would have loved to help me celebrate this one. Wasn’t it terrific that I got to feel such unconditional love from such a great guy?

Yes…I miss my Colorado family. I get to see them in just a few short weeks and I can immerse myself in their sunshine and love. I am so honored to call them mine.

Yes…I miss my mom. She knew how much I loved her because I never failed to tell her at (almost) every opportunity.

And…I am so, so grateful to have the opportunity to love again. To feel the love of a good man. A man who watches out for me and protects me and brings me so much joy.

Mr. FixIt came home from town yesterday and I fixed us a great meal. Then he asked me to go in the other room for a while. He called to me when he was ready and I went out to the deck by the pool. He had these cupcakes with the candles lit and a lovely, sentimental card that he selected with the perfect inscription. And he gave me a beautiful rocking chair for the front porch.

Yes…chronologically, I may be 65 years old today. But this man knows me on the inside. He KNOWS I’m only 35 on the inside. And that is my best earthly gift ever. ❤

Holding Back the Waters

Wed, 13 Jun 2018 01:30:14 -0600

“Unprocessed grief festers. Let it go.”

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I’m developing a little community over on Twitter. There are some really great people over there and I’m hearing lots of good advice and quotes about grief. One of the women I follow is Maryanne Pope who wrote A Widow’s Awakening. She lost her firefighter husband to a totally preventable work injury. Maryanne always has good things to say...tasty nuggets to chew on during the day. That’s the draw of Twitter for me. Short and sweet and to the point...time after time.

Yesterday, Maryanne quoted Eleanor Roosevelt. “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Those are some mighty words there, Eleanor. I was in a relationship for two decades in which I felt inferior. It wasn’t always like that. But, as time passed, too many difficult conversations avoided had created an elephant in the room and we carefully dusted it and laid out doilies to fool everyone, including ourselves, into thinking it was something beautiful. Eventually, a systematic collapse occurred and unkindness replaced love a greater portion of the time.

I traded my consent for financial security. When I look back at things that were said to me that I just swallowed…I can’t believe it was me. Then again, it really wasn’t me. It was a smaller, less evolved me. A me that didn’t have Jesus fighting my battles. I’m not an innocent victim in this. I was just as unkind in my own ways. Thankfully, we have opportunities to learn from our mistakes, or the mistakes of others, and we can grow and become better people. Better at fighting, at loving, at living…at forgiving.

I learned after that marriage ended, I could not hold back what was coming. The loss of a marriage causes a tremendous amount of pain and grief. That situation gave me tools for my toolbox for when Mr. Virgo died. Holding back the pain of grief is much like standing in a roaring river trying to hold back the waters with my hands. It was much better to turn around, lean back, and let the current take me feet first down the river. I had far less chance of drowning once I learned to go with the flow and not avoid the inevitable pain. Remember this when you face the rough waters of life. ❤

These Dreams

Sun, 10 Jun 2018 01:30:17 -0600

“My dreams have returned!”

Something changed a couple of weeks ago. I started dreaming again. Oh, I’m sure I’ve been dreaming. We do every night. But when I lost Mr. Virgo, I lost my dreams. I couldn’t remember them at all. And suddenly, I’ve started remembering them. Their complexity is increasing. I’m recalling more detail. I even see some color creeping back in at the edges.

This is a huge deal. Not remembering my dreams made me feel dead inside. Like a still body of water with no oxygen. Stagnant. I’m still not back to those epic, Academy Award worthy, epic dreams, but this is a far cry better than what I have been experiencing for over five years now.

On the other side of that, the only real dreams I remembered since Mr. Virgo died were the ones with him in them. Those have been nice. I still may dream of him from time to time. I don’t know. Something feels different in this.

Over the five years I’ve been on this path, there have been points…benchmarks…where I feel something changes. Like walking up stairs out of a dark, dank basement. Each step brings me closer to the light…to the fresh air…to the sunshine. I have long stretches now of light. Sometimes I take a step or two back down. Rarely, it’s more like four or five. That’s where I was two or three weeks ago. I couldn’t figure out what was bringing me down. Then I realized…there doesn’t HAVE to be a reason. That’s how grief works. Maybe it was the way the light was shining through the window. Maybe it was my upcoming 65th birthday and Medicare. Maybe it was worrying about this breast biopsy and realizing dealing with health issues may become more common in the coming years. Maybe it is the decline in the health of those I love. I don’t know.

Whatever the reason, my dreams are back and I’m relieved. Silly, nonsensical, memorable dreams. Being on this side of the wave always leaves me feeling more grateful. ❤️

““We both had dreams,” they answered, “but there is no one to interpret them.” Then Joseph said to them, “Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams.”” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭40:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Grace

Mon, 04 Jun 2018 01:30:19 -0600

“Live a life worthy of the calling you have been given.” Ephesians 4:1

My daughters hit the jackpot when they chose their mates. Both well suited for their personalities and life goals. I remember when Daughter #1 was dating her husband twenty-some years ago. He and I ran to the store one day and there was a couple walking ahead of us. They wore black leather and had multiple tattoos and piercings. Their hair was spiked all over. I slipped my hand through my future son-in-law’s arm and said, “Ahhhhh, there but for the grace of God. I’m so happy she chose you.” Then, Daughter #2 became the one with multiple tattoos and weird color hair. I looked down at the “strange” people and my beautiful daughter, who has always danced to her own music, chose a highly unconventional lifestyle. That, my dears, is Karma.

Our guest Pastor yesterday spoke about Grace. Grace is the opposite of Karma. Karma is…you get what you deserve. “What goes around, comes around.” God’s Grace is…”I will look past your flaws and love you AND I will not give you what you truly deserve.” It was an inspiring sermon.

I woke up late yesterday and the thought went through my mind to just skip church. Just turn over and go back to sleep. Have a lazy day. Fix a nice breakfast. Then I read a tweet from a gal I follow. She always has a Morning Munch and Night Owl Nugget…a scripture with a comment. Short and sweet. Yesterday’s tweet was the scripture above. It didn’t shame me. It motivated me. We are called to do great things. We should live a life that is worthy of that calling. I know I feel better when I’ve gone to church. I feel that sense of community. And I always hear exactly what I need to hear in the present moment. Here’s how I know the Holy Spirit speaks to me. Because, the guest speaker spoke on Grace. When he got to the end of his sermon…he spoke these exact words. “Live a life worthy of the calling you have been given.”

Chills.

I love when that happens. When I know exactly when God speaks to me. I’ve been struggling a little the last couple of weeks. I know it’s a grief wave. And, I know it is exacerbated by the fact that I got my Medicare card and my 65th birthday is right around the corner. I’ve also had a few medical things going on that we’re checking out. Nothing serious, I don’t think. But some tests that I’m not looking forward to. It’s life. These things happen. But grief has changed my coping skills. Some are better. Some are worse. Knowing that God was teaching me, in that moment, to live a life that is worthy, not only of the calling I’ve been given, but of the GRACE I’ve been granted.

Some of you write the most lovely comments here. You say things like “You have a way with words.” And, “It’s like you’re in my head. You say what I am thinking and can’t articulate.” I am here to tell you…that is the Grace of God. I am not that talented of a writer. I came so very close to flunking senior English in high school. God has graced me with the words He wants me to say. Everything I have, everything I do…everything I AM is because of the Grace of God. I am alive today because of the Grace of God. I have a beautiful family because of the Grace of God. I found love after loss because of the Grace of God.

“There, but for the Grace of God, go I.” I never want to forget that. ❤

“…live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Hello, June!!!

Fri, 01 Jun 2018 01:30:54 -0600

“Hello, June!!!”

Seriously, how does time go so fast?

And, so…S-L-O-W!

Let me explain. Today…I start Medicare! What??? I didn’t think it would EVER get here. And, at the same time, I learned to drive, like…yesterday, right? All week I’ve been in awe of this moment. This is such a monumental event. Ok, getting married is a monumental event. Having a baby is a monumental event. Changing insurance plans isn’t really that big of a deal. But it is, you know?

Sometimes ideas have to stew around in my head for a few days before I can articulate them. I just have to sit tight and feel the feelings till the thought bubbles up like a spring coming up from deep within the earth. This idea of going on Medicare…turning sixty-five…is an accomplishment. One not everyone gets to enjoy. Mr. Virgo died at sixty-two. He didn’t get Medicare. He didn’t get to retire. I’ve lived three years longer than he did. There was a time when I didn’t believe I would live this long. And, here I am.

I get to go on Medicare. I get to go to Florida in a couple of weeks. I get to see my Colorado family in July. I get to have some medical procedures in the next few weeks that some people can’t afford. I get to spend my time with a really sweet, kind, caring man who loves me more than anything…and I get to love him right back. I’ve gained more family members through Mr. FixIt. I get to live in West Virginia. I am truly, truly blessed. I know this.

Yesterday was spent cleaning and shampooing the carpets in the basement. A perfect day for working down there since it was so hot and humid out. We had a brief downpour that did nothing but make the air hot and sticky. After we were finished with our chores, we went out in the pool and cleaned some more (pools are high maintenance) and only came in when we heard some thunder. That storm missed us.

A good day working and playing. Yet, I still can’t get over it. Medicare.

How did this happen? ❤️

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Power of Words

Thu, 31 May 2018 01:30:32 -0600

“Shhhhhh…..”

Events of the last couple of years, and certainly the last week, have demonstrated the absolute destructive power of the spoken word. Caution…I am NOT discussing politics here nor specific individuals or what has been said. What I’m talking about is society’s shift toward having no filter whatsoever. My elderly aunt once said something to me that was downright mean-spirited. When she was done, I just looked at her calmly and said, “You know, that was very mean.” She said, “Yeah, well…it popped into my head so I figured I might as well say it!” Ok…she’s 84 with declining mental faculties. I can forgive that. But some of the things I hear these days makes me want to hold my hands over my ears and go screaming into the night.

Yesterday, one of the news channels out of Denver that I still follow was airing a live video feed of a cow elk in labor and attempting to give birth. It was pretty boring, actually. I mean…how long can to sit and stare at a cow elk laying down, standing up, laying down, standing up, pushing, laying down…you get the picture. There was no “happy ending” coming anytime soon and there had already been sixteen hours of this. I soon bored of watching the elk who was desperately trying to become a mama and started reading the comments people were making.

I was appalled. What started out innocently enough, ie “Oh, no! Is the mama cow in trouble? This has been going on a long time!” to “You stupid ******* idiot, it’s an elk, not a cow!” to “Veal comes from a boy calf who gets ripped from his mama and kept in the dark and fed only milk.” to “YOU’RE the ******* cow, *****!” Holy cats! It took five minutes to go south. People seem to be of the opinion, like my elderly, slightly dotty aunt, that if it pops in your head, you might as well say it.

People who have seen great commercial success have seen their empires crumble for saying abhorrent things. Men have lost their careers and everything they have built because of things they said. I am NOT standing up for those men who are truly deserving of retribution and I totally think you need to be held accountable for the things that come out of your mouth. But, you have to ask yourself, what would keep a disgruntled employee or associate from claiming such abuse when the accused is actually innocent. You know it happens.

When is it ok to be a racist? The answer is…never. When is it ok to be anti Semitic? The answer is…never. When is it ok to be homophobic and denigrate someone on social media for their sexual preference? The answer is…never. Liberals, conservatives, gay, straight, black, white, and every shade in between…we’re all the same inside. We all bleed red and breathe oxygen. The thing is…I don’t think of it as being “politically correct.” I think of it as being a decent human being with good character. God tells us in the Bible that the tongue has incredible power. We can bring blessings or curses…life or death…light or darkness. All with a muscle the size of a small banana.

Such power words have. Lifelong scars can happen in an instant. Broken promises. Little white lies. Great big lies. Gossip. Slander. Such damage that can be done without thinking. We see it over and over. You’d think they’d learn, wouldn’t you?

Proverb 10:19 says…”Sin is not ended by multiplying words, but the prudent hold their tongues.” Proverbs 15:4 says “The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit.” Matthew 15:11 says…”What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them.” The Bible warns over and over and over to hold your tongue. Watch your words. I am as guilty as anyone for speaking before thinking…far too many times. But age and maturity and God’s grace is going far toward helping me keep a rein in on my tongue. And what I miss, God forgives me when I am truly repentant. I hope the next generation learns this. I hope they learn the delicate art of speaking gently. ❤

“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.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:29‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Tread Lightly

Wed, 30 May 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“Bison in front of the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone National Park”

Oh, those Facebook memories. They used to slay me. I’d finally be feeling halfway like myself, to the point where I didn’t cry every d*** day, when one of those pages from the past would show up and rip my heart wide open again. I am pleased to say, it’s been a while since I’ve had that kind of reaction to something as unbidden as photos from a favorite vacation.

Yesterday, just such a memory popped up. Mr. Virgo loved going to Yellowstone National Park and seeing the Grand Tetons. We went two or three times in the seven-and-a-half years we were together. He was quite the photographer and I am so happy I have so many of his beautiful photos. This was taken on our last vacation together. We did a float trip down the Snake River that year. We spent a week exploring. We saw grizzlies, eagles, bison, deer, elk, owls, coyotes, antelope…it was amazing.

Yesterday was a good day. Mr. FixIt and I worked hard…it was mowing day. We have lots of rain forecast in the next few days so we needed to get that done. It was hot, but we stayed in the AC during the worst of it in the afternoon and headed back out just as the sun started to head over the wooded ridge beyond the far field. When we were done, we enjoyed a refreshing couple of hours in the pool. When I settled in to write my post, this photo showed up. The more time that passes since Mr. Virgo’s death, the wider the chasm between then and now becomes.

Grief is so weird. Sometimes things that you THINK would upset you are nothing. Other times, the smallest thing can trip you up and send you down the tubes. This was a good day. This was a good memory, a good vacation. This was a good marriage, a good man, a good friend, a good life. And yesterday was a good day, a good memory, with a good man, a good friend, and a good life. The difference is time and perspective. It’s a new life. A different life. A good life. A fun life.

Yes…grief is weird. ❤

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37:23-24‬ ‭NIV‬‬

On the Other Side of Midlife

Sun, 27 May 2018 01:30:41 -0600

“Spending the weekend at home by the pool. Then visited more family at a local cemetery.”

A friend sent me a link yesterday to an article written by Brené Brown. She discusses the truth of what is commonly referred to as a midlife crisis. Her preferred terminology is “midlife unraveling”…a term I can totally relate to. Her premise is, while there are many tactics one can take when facing the existential questions like “Is this all there is?”, her approach was a head-on collision with the universe. And, as is always the case, the universe won and brought her to her knees.

I distinctly remember the moment I first had an inkling something was amiss. I went through a divorce young and I did really well raising my older daughter. I put my second husband through medical school, residency, and setting up a practice. I worked hard, stayed engaged, and did my Earth Mother thing. I created unique job positions for myself, I wrote a children’s book, I co-authored a book for the National Institutes of Health, I invented a piece of x-ray equipment to x-ray disabled patients while seated in a wheelchair, I illustrated an exercise book. I kept my daughter busy with scouts and bikes and the like so her step-father could have a quiet house to study in. I was busy. Then, several things happened that brought my world to a dizzying tailspin.

When my husband started his practice, I stopped working outside of the home. Hindsight being 20/20, that probably wasn’t the best choice for me. While I continued to stay busy being a full time mom, my daughter was in junior high and she really didn’t need me during the days. I filled my time volunteering for the hospital auxiliary. I took hospice training. I lunged horses and mucked stalls in exchange for riding lessons for my daughter and me. I was a DJ for the local public radio station. I baked competitively and grew a huge garden. I entered the county fairs. And I was becoming lost..first to myself, then to my family.

I clearly hung my identity on a hook by the front door and became Mrs. Dr. So-and-So. I felt insecure. My husband was surrounded by intelligent women all day, every day. I was easily threatened by the medical staff he worked with so closely. In an attempt to refocus my life, and fulfill our desire to expand our family before it got too late, we decided to have another child, which was a distinct blessing, don’t get me wrong. The problem was, with every passing day, I was losing more of myself. And now, the physical toll of having a baby later in life threw me into a vicious cycle of yo-yo dieting and exhaustion.

I was distinctly unhealthy…mentally and physically. And finally, like Brené, I dared the universe to make me face the changes that were coming and she was far more up for the challenge than I was. I unraveled…hard and fast. It took a lot of hard work and therapy for me to put myself back together again. But eventually I found myself. I began to love who I was. Brené says, loving yourself is the most challenging thing you will ever have to do. And once you start that task, you continue to work it till the day you die. I beg to differ with her. Losing Mr. Virgo was decidedly the most challenging thing I have ever faced in my life.

As my grief has eased, I find myself sometimes disengaging from the conversation. “Grief talk” isn’t always at the forefront of my mind. Megan Devine from refugeingrief.com has a “Do This, Don’t Do That” chart that helps people support others who are grieving. I was appalled when I found I do far too many of the Don’t Do Thats…even here on my blog. I know for a fact I have hurt people’s feelings when I haven’t stayed present and remembered there are grievers out there I am writing for. If I ever have hurt you, I am profoundly sorry.

My mission here has evolved. It started out as a way to navigate my grief, and help others know they aren’t alone. It morphed into travel, faith, crafts, life lessons, and new love. Sometimes it reads like a sermon. Sometimes a novel. Sometimes it’s not much different than reading any other typical Facebook post from one of your friends, and that might get boring. But sometimes, hopefully often, I bring a message you need to hear. Something that helps you and makes you think. Something that cheers you and gives you hope. Something that helps you see my vulnerability and how we really aren’t very different. Something that stirs your heart. Something that brings you closer to God’s Word.

I am truly grateful to be on the far side of that existential midlife unraveling. I’m happy to have survived fairly intact. I am also grateful that, after five years on this grief journey, my heart has healed a great deal. I am forever changed by both of these monumental life events. I love myself a lot more…partially due to aging, partially due to the increased compassion grief brings. We are all works in progress, clear to our dying day. I’m glad I don’t try to push “feeling things” onto the back burner anymore. I face things head on, because God has my back. He is with me every step of the way. I still pray every time I write and ask Him to bring the right words and the people who need to hear them. ❤

“Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭2:1-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Things That Make Me Go Ahhhhhhh

Fri, 25 May 2018 01:30:25 -0600

“There’s nothing like a freshly mown lawn!”

After getting through the initial stage of acute grief, I soon discovered there were two things that eased my broken heart. One was camping with the Girl Campers and sisters on the Fly. The other was working outdoors.. Oh, when I first sold my house, I was absolutely convinced I would never mow another lawn, but that is certainly NOT the case! This farm house has about the same amount of back yard as you see here in the front. And there isn’t a

“Rain gauge reads 4.25 inches!”

riding mower here like there is at Mr. FixIt’s five acres. It was hovering around eighty degrees yesterday when we headed to the farm. I knew it was going to really need mowing. It’s been nine days since it was mowed last. In those nine days, it rained 4.25 inches. That grass was high…and wet! We took turns mowing and cooling off. It went a lot faster with two of us. Between laundry and the mowing, we were still there over four hours.

“Rhododendron”

“My favorite…peonies!”

When we were finished at the farm, we took the weed eater to the cemetery and cleaned up the graves and decorated them for Memorial Day. They looked so nice when we were done. We brought the weed eater back to the farm and I went for a walk about to take pictures for you. I almost missed the rhododendron this year. They only last a few days and they are just a bit past their prime but still lovely. The ferns are vibrant green, carpeting the forest floor and hillsides. The peonies were Grandma’s pride and joy. I remember her walking me around the yard and cupping each delicate flower in her well-worn hands and smiling. She knew they were gifts from God, each and every one. She never had bird feeders when she lived here. I think she would have loved them. Mr. FixIt filled them for me. We fed the farm cats and I called them in. Boy Cat came on a run to see me. That always makes me smile.

“Grandma’s peonies.”

“Fern”

When we got back to the Ponderosa, I hopped on the riding mower and finished the last half of the lawn while Mr. FixIt made supper. We had a water main break a mile or so down the road yesterday morning so we are on a boil advisory. I told Mr. FixIt it would be a cold day in you know where before I would ever drink that water…it was muddy and boiling doesn’t fix that. That’s what we have bottled water for.

“Clematis”

These are the days that warm my heart and heal it even more. These are the days I long for in the depths of January. These days are treasures and I cherish them. I am so deeply grateful for every gift God has given me. ❤

“Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭17:14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Feeling Totally Relaxed

Tue, 22 May 2018 01:30:16 -0600

“A big bullfrog serenaded me from a pond.”

Three more of our Girl Campers left yesterday morning. It’s always sad to see the week end. So much fun and wonderful memories are made during this gathering. I’m blessed this year with two extra days spent with Gail, my fellow Girl Camper and camphost extraordinaire. Plus, there is the added bonus of Mr. FixIt being here!

“Alpaca roving for spinning.”

After coffee yesterday, we sat around for an hour or so and chatted before the gals said goodbye and headed on their way. One was headed straight home but two were going to Lehman’s, a wonderful hardware store in Kidron, Ohio that specializes in non-electric appliances and tools. I really want to make a trip up there. I’ve received their catalog for years.

“Gail spins the alpaca roving into a fine yarn…her fingers skillfully knowing how hard to hold and draw the fibers onto the spindle.”

After everyone was gone, Gail and I headed to check out a new shop that advertises fibers, wool, and rugs. It’s a darling little “she shed” shop on this gal’s farm that had belonged to her grandparents. She raises sheep for her wool. She has two looms set up in her shop. She had several handmade items for sale. But I was disappointed there was no yarn and Gail was disappointed there was no wool available for sale as yet. I did get to look around a bit and caught this big bullfrog that was in the pond by the shop. And the little lambs were darling frolicking in the pasture. There were lovely flower and herb gardens all around. I just don’t think the gal was quite ready to be open for business yet. Maybe in the fall she’ll have more items available.

“The camp kitty snoozes in the chair beside me as I knit. I wasn’t patient enough for the spinning.”

When we got back to the campground, Gail got out the spinning wheel she learned on. She picked up a basket of alpaca roving and set to teaching me to spin. I found it incredibly frustrating because I am an instant gratification kind of a gal. Gail says if I just keep trying, I’ll get the hang of it. I might try again, but for now, I’ll just buy beautiful yarns that I can work with right away. I started a new pair of socks with a beautiful fingering yarn. It’s 100% wool though so I’ll have to take extra special care of them. They are for me. Gail also gave me a beautiful skein of German wool/polyester blend to knit Mr. FixIt a pair of socks. It is a grey, heathery blend.

Today is our last day of just sitting around and enjoying Gail’s company, knitting and talking and laughing. This is such good therapy. The camp kitty is content to lay in the chair beside me and snooze. This is about as peaceful as it gets…the smell of pine and rain, woodsmoke and spring flowers…the sound of crows and pileated woodpeckers and songbirds and owls…and the laughter of friends. sigh Tomorrow it’s back to the real world till our next adventure. ❤

“Every skilled woman spun with her hands and brought what she had spun—blue, purple or scarlet yarn or fine linen.” ‭‭Exodus‬ ‭35:25‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Campfire and Conversation

Mon, 21 May 2018 01:30:18 -0600

“A pileated woodpecker has decimated this tall pine tree at the edge of the campground.”

This trip has been such a blessing to me. Laughter is the best medicine and there has been so much joy shared between us as we sit and work with our hands. We have shared stories and learned more about each other. We have loved on our furry friends, including a little stray black cat who showed up Friday night. We think someone must have dumped him along the road because he is so friendly. He’s the camp cat for now and will more than likely go home with the camphost as her husband has taken a shine to him.

“The hat I knitted from the yarn Gail spun from Alpaca and wool.”

I’ve become very close friends with our camphost, Gail. She is a woman of strong faith. She reminds me of the woman in Proverbs 31. She’s the kind of woman you want to learn from and emulate. She is kind, courageous, fair, fun, and family oriented. And talented? OMGosh! She can do anything. I just love her to the moon and back. Her husband took Mr. FixIt fishing last night and he had a blast. They only caught one fish between them, but they had good fellowship and got to know each other better.

“Mr. FixIt enjoys his morning coffee in one of the Girl Camper mugs.”

This is one of the things I love about Mr. FixIt. He has friends outside of our relationship. I loved Mr. Virgo…you know that. And, he had no real friendships other than me. He had friends he worked with, but he never did anything without me. I was telling the girls around the campfire the other night…I never would have been a Girl Camper or a Sister on the Fly if Mr. Virgo were still living. It’s just not something I would have done…even though it was something I would have enjoyed. This is the difference in the woman I have become since losing him. I am far more independent. And, I am more assertive…something Mr. FixIt deeply appreciates in me.

“Campfire and Corgis”

Loss changed me. It was terribly difficult. It tore me apart and dropped me in pieces on the ground. When it came time to rebuild, I put myself back together in a way that suited this new life…this new me. I love this me that I am today. While I hate what happened to get me here, I am grateful for this new life and all the new people that have been brought into it.

Yes, this trip is just what the doctor ordered. Food, fun, and frolic…Girl Camper style! ❤️

“A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. Her husband trusts her without reserve, and never has reason to regret it. Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long. She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing. She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places and brings back exotic surprises. She’s up before dawn, preparing breakfast for her family and organizing her day. She looks over a field and buys it, then, with money she’s put aside, plants a garden. First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started. She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day. She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in homemaking. She’s quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor. She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows; their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear. She makes her own clothing, and dresses in colorful linens and silks. Her husband is greatly respected when he deliberates with the city fathers. She designs gowns and sells them, brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops. Her clothes are well-made and elegant, and she always faces tomorrow with a smile. When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly. She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, and keeps them all busy and productive. Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: “Many women have done wonderful things, but you’ve outclassed them all!” Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of- GOD. Give her everything she deserves! Festoon her life with praises!” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:10-31‬ ‭MSG‬‬

S-s-s-s-snake!

Sat, 19 May 2018 01:30:19 -0600

“Baby Water Snake”

The first time I remember holding a snake was back-to-school night in seventh grade. Mom walked into the science lab and I went straight for the aquarium that held a tiny blue racer. Much to my mother’s horror, I picked up the wiggly little critter and let it slither around my fingers and hands. I laughed at my mom’s squeals of horror as I held the snake closer so she could see. Poor mom. I deviled the heck out of her at every opportunity, I’m afraid.

Snakes have never bothered me, really. I don’t particularly like being startled by them, but if I know they’re there, and I’m assured they are not poisonous, I have no real problem with them. I remember going to my cousin’s girls’ band concert once. As I drove into the parking lot there were several women standing around, bouncing from leg to leg and screaming. I parked and came over to see what was going on. There was a huge black snake between them and the school. I reached down, picked it up by the tail and carried it over to the edge of the woods. The screamers looked at me sideways as though I were some sort of witch to be steered clear of.

Grandma always taught me to carry a hoe with me to kill snakes in the garden or when wandering around the farm. When Hubby #2 and I went on a twenty mile backpack trip up Spruce Knob back in the late ‘70s, she loaned us two hoes to carry with us as we hiked so we would not only have something to kill any errant timber rattler, but also have a hiking stick. I’d love to know what the other hikers on the trail thought of these two greenhorns with the hoes and the WAY overpacked backpacks. I think Grandma laughed for a month at our expense.

It’s always fun when the naturalist shows up at the campground to give a little nature lesson to the Girl Campers. Yesterday, Mike showed up with a baby water snake he had found during the stream stomp earlier in the day. He also was helpful in identifying a particular beetle that is detrimental to the trees in the area. It needs to be reported so the woods can be monitored. A tree fell across the road during the night and had to be removed early yesterday morning. Later in the day, the maintenance crew came in and cleared the ditches along the road and removed another dead tree that was in danger of falling across the road.

Mr. FixIt arrives today…can’t wait to see him! The girls are all looking forward to his arrival, as well. He’s a favorite around here. ❤

“On the glorious splendor of your majesty, and on your wondrous works, I will meditate.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭145:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Knitting at the Old Campground

Fri, 18 May 2018 01:30:45 -0600

“Knitting at the campground.”

What a wonderful day. Several of us got out a “work in progress” and did some hand work yesterday. One gal was working on a woodcarving. One was crocheting. Two of us were knitting. It was peaceful. These are women of faith so as we worked, we shared stories of our faith walk. We spoke of the many ways God has blessed us, the lessons we have learned along the way. It reminded me of the early farm communities when the women would gather at someone’s home, or the local Grange, and spend the day quilting, cooking, sharing. We don’t get much of that this day and age and I feel the younger generations are sorely missing something. Their lives are so busy…athletic teams, music lessons, social events…young mothers today spend all their free time in cars shuttling the kids to event after event. I wish they had the peace just spending a few hours knitting and chatting with like-minded women could afford them. I hope they don’t wait too long to figure out how important these relationships are. And, these skills.

I was talking with a friend the other day. If the internet crashed tomorrow, if there was a sudden catastrophe and there was no power grid, the highest prized people would be the ones who know how to hunt, grow, prepare, and preserve food…ie farmers. Simple country folk. We’ve become so dependent on electronics for everything, it’s scary. I’m the first to admit, I am a tech head, but I know how to do the things that need to be done to survive. I worry for our future generations. I want to make sure my girls know how to do the things they need to do to survive beyond the grocery store.

I don’t live a stressful life, by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve got to tell you…I’m feeling pretty mellow after three nights in TOW-Wanda and hanging with the Girl Campers. ❤️

“By faith Noah, being warned by God concerning events as yet unseen, in reverent fear constructed an ark for the saving of his household. By this he condemned the world and became an heir of the righteousness that comes by faith.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m Walkin’ on Sunshine

Wed, 16 May 2018 06:39:50 -0600

“Sitting in the morning sun, coffee in hand, Country Living Magazine…birds and roosters entertaining me. It’s a beautiful life!”

One of summer’s delights in the east…a warm morning spent outside reading and sipping my morning coffee. We’ve hit the summer thunderboomer circuit early this year here in West Virginia. The skies are brilliantly clear in the morning. The humidity is high from the rain the afternoon before. The temperature soars by noon and the thunderclouds begin to build till they boil over. Thunder, lightning, hail, high winds all can play havoc with your plans.

Mowing seems to be the big thing around here in the summer. I have to say, I did not miss lawn care and home maintenance in the years I traveled and lived in TOW-Wanda. It was a welcome break. But now that I have the chance to dive into the great outdoors and get dirty and sweaty, I have to admit, it beats going to a gym any day of the week.

I mowed with the self-propelled push mower at the farm yesterday. What a workout! The yard is well over an acre, the temperature in the high eighties, the humidity sticky and thick. With my propensity towards heat exhaustion, I only mowed 15-20 minutes at a time, then took a break to rehydrate and lay in front of the fan. At that rate, it took me five hours to complete. It’s so beautiful when it’s finished. I took a few moments to just wander around and enjoy the surroundings. The rhododendron is just about to burst into bloom, as are the irises and peonies. The farm cats lazed around beneath the Rose of Sharon and the huge hydrangea bush along the creek. While the flowering quince is fading, the spice bush is in full bloom. I love this time of year.

We are getting things geared up here at the Ponderosa to prepare for a summer of entertaining. Mr. FixIt has been working in the pool to get it open. We still need to pressure wash the deck but will wait for a dry spell. I’m heading out today for another road trip. This time I’ll be camping with the Girl Campers at a State Park in Ohio for a week. It’s a Mister Sister event so my mister will be joining me this weekend. I love camping with the girls! This year, our hostess…my dear friend Gail…is going to teach me to spin wool for sock yarn. I’ll have time to sit and knit on my socks and finally read my friend Michelle Cummins’ new book, The Reel Sisters. Peace and quiet in the beautiful woods surrounding one of my favorite campgrounds.

As I sit here on the deck in the warm sunshine, a nice breeze blowing, listening to the rooster down the road, reading Country Living Magazine…my heart is overflowing with the blessings of my life. I’m such a far cry from the early days of my grief. The contrast is startling. The heart can mend itself…scarred, certainly. But infinitely full of hope. ❤️

“So I rejoice, and I am glad. Even my body has hope.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭16:9‬ ‭INternational Children’s Bible

Sharing

Mon, 14 May 2018 01:30:34 -0600

“Tilling in his garden.”

The other day I told you Mr. FixIt put in a garden for “me”. I was so excited. I haven’t had a garden in ages and I was really looking forward to going out and getting my hands in the dirt. Then, before I knew it, Mr. FixIt had the plants and the seeds in the ground. sigh

I was really disappointed. Then I looked at it a different way. Why should I get to have all the fun things? Riding the big lawn mower is a whole lot more fun than pushing the smaller one…but, Mr. FixIt pushes it for me. Hooking up, towing, and unhooking my camper is a lot more fun for me than sitting and watching someone else do it. The same is true for Mr. FixIt.

He has always had a garden. It gives him great joy to do that. Who am I to take his joy away from him? He brings me joy every day in some way. Like, the roses and the sweet card he gave me for Mother’s Day. Like, standing in church holding my hand…the other hand raised. Like, a million little things. I can let him have his garden…and the resulting bragging rights. I don’t have to do everything. I don’t have to control everything. I can just…be. Sometimes, less is more. ❤️

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Keep Walking

Fri, 11 May 2018 01:30:52 -0600

“Keep walking, dear one.”

I have several people in my life who are walking a challenging path right now. From my cousin with mesothelioma to a friend’s first grandchild being born with physical challenges. From my friend who is selling the home she and her late husband raised their family in to the beautiful women in my small group from church who are facing some pretty big things right now. There are new widows and new moms and new grandmas out there who need extra love and support today. To all of you who are facing challenges…let me say this.

You are beautiful.

You are stronger than you think.

You are loved.

You are being prayed for.

No matter how difficult and challenging life becomes…

Stand up.

Keep walking.

Keep moving forward.

You are worthy.

You are enough.

You are a Child of God.

It’s ok to cry.

It’s ok to not be ok.

Just hang in there…things will get better. Maybe not right away…but they will get better.

I love you.

❤️

“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 ‭ESV‬‬

#encouragement, #BuildingUp, #love

Overwhelming Tasks

Mon, 07 May 2018 01:30:16 -0600

“My messy garage as I was downsizing.”

My friend Deneene has been widowed three years now. Shortly after her husband died, she became friends with a fellow who lived near her kids. They were “just friends” and she was absolutely certain she would never fall in love with anyone. But, as soon as I saw her friend’s picture, I knew in my heart this is who she was destined to be with, but I didn’t say anything. They supported each other as they were both going through a rough patch in their lives. A couple of years after that, they ran into each other again. This time, something clicked and long story short…they fell in love. Like many of us, love after loss is magical and she has decided to sell her home here in West Virginia and move to the south to be with her love.

Dee is facing something I’ve already been through…clearing out YEARS of “stuff”, selling a house, and moving hundreds of miles away. I am hoping her experience will be easier than mine. I did it at one year after losing Mr. Virgo. I was still reeling from my loss and heading into my second year which was much rougher for me than my first. I remember after making the decision, just the sheer enormity of the task was totally overwhelming. I cannot tell you how many times I sat on the floor and cried, not knowing where to start or what to do next. My daughter came to help one day. A couple of friends helped out when they could. But the bulk of the work, and all of the decision making, was mine.

My friend is very wise. She’s been reading this and other grief blogs and listens to all of your suggestions. The first thing she did was create an event on Facebook for an Estate Sale in a month. Then, she asked for any and all volunteers, specifying what jobs need to be done and when. Wisely, she reminded her friends of the time they told her three years ago… “just let me know what you need and I’ll be there.” So, she’s calling in the favors. I applaud her for that. She already has people lined up to help her, myself included.

I remember how daunting that task was. I remember what a struggle it was to make decisions as to what to keep, what to give to the family, what I could sell, what I should throw away. It was brutal. But the rewards were many. I felt lighter with each load that went away. There were things I really loved, but no one else I knew would have, so I took pictures of them before I sent them on their way. Now I have a photo album on my phone and I can visit them any time I want. There are things I regret getting rid of, sure. But my life was so much easier without the burden of all that stuff around me.

I’m hoping Dee can keep her eye on the prize…the freedom that will come when she has fulfilled her goal of downsizing and selling the house. I am also hoping that the extra two years of grieving she has gone through saves her the gut-wrenching tears. I have a feeling she may find it a bit more emotionally charged than she thinks it will. She is a very strong woman. She is young, healthy, and happy. She has a love waiting for her in the south. She’s going to do great, I’m sure. She’s still in my prayers, though. It isn’t easy under any circumstances to face such an enormous task alone. ❤

“do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:6-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Dream a Little Dream of Me 2.0

Sat, 05 May 2018 01:30:54 -0600

“Is this a dream?”

Mr. Virgo has been gone over five years now. In those five years, I have had two or three dreams of him. I’ve wanted more. I begged God for more back in the first couple of years. Just one more conversation. One more hug. Hear his voice one last time. Unfortunately, I had erased all of his voicemails just three days before he died. I had a couple of messages on the answering machine at home, but he didn’t sound happy because he was trying to reach me and kept getting the machine instead. Those just make me sad because he really left great voicemails. I hadn’t heard his voice in so long. I wasn’t sure what he sounded like anymore. Then...he came to me in a dream a couple of nights ago.

In the dream, Mr. FixIt and I were in Florida at a flea market. You know, the kind with the roof but the sides are all open to allow air flow? It was really crowded but no one was looking at each other. We were all busy looking at merchandise. I walked around a small group of women. I was looking down and I saw a pair of familiar men’s shoes. Rockports. With the man in them. I slowly raised my eyes and saw the gray dress pants, the black leather belt, the crisply ironed long sleeved shirt. It was a pale blue. The tie a stylish navy with slight flecks of red. I was so taken by the familiarity of the clothing that it took me a moment to comprehend what was happening. Suddenly, I jerked my eyes upward and there he was! That shock of meticulously groomed silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses. Curiously…he didn’t have a beard. He was clean-shaven when he died. I assumed that must carry over into the afterlife.

I sucked my breath in with a start.

“It’s YOU!” I said.

Then…he spoke to me!

“Well…it’s about time, don’t you think?”

I heard him and saw him as clear as if he were actually standing in front of me. I walked up to him and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close. I laid my head on his chest. I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

“They told me you died.” I whispered.

“Oh, baby doll. I just went somewhere else.” He didn’t offer anything else. Suddenly, I remembered Mr. FixIt was with me. I turned to him and he was looking at an item in the booth next to me. I had a momentary feeling of awkwardness. How was I going to introduce Mr. FixIt to Mr. Virgo? I needn’t have worried because soon it became obvious…Mr. FixIt couldn’t see him.

I turned back to Mr. Virgo. He was watching this new love of mine. He seemed to be studying him. Finally, he turned to me and smiled the sweetest smile.

“You tell him I think he’s doing a great job, will you?” The two men I loved most in the world were just steps apart but a world away from one another with me as the common denominator.

“I will,” I promised. “He’ll love knowing you said that.”

And, with that came the call of the mockingbird in the trumpet vine outside the bedroom window, putting up a ruckus over some interloper getting too near her nest. I woke up.

There was a time in my grief when that would have slayed me. But I woke up feeling so happy that I got to “see” him again. That I got to “hear” him again. That I got to “feel” that big bear hug from this handsome man. Soon…as with all dreams…he began to recede to the back room of my mind. I was tickled to pieces that he got to see Mr. FixIt with me.

“Thank you.” I whispered into the early dawn light. “It was good to see you again. Don’t be such a stranger!” ❤

“Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets,” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭1:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Waking Up

Fri, 27 Apr 2018 01:30:47 -0600

“Knitting Socks with Four Double Point Needles:

My second marriage fell apart in January 2000. In June of 2001, I opened a small needlework shop in Glenwood Springs called Needles & Pins. I lost my shirt with that business. Twice, actually. But, like buying TOW-Wanda and camping helped me heal after losing Mr. Virgo…that little shop helped me heal and find my long lost self-confidence after my 21 year marriage ended. I mostly sold cross-stitch supplies, a little needlepoint, some gift items, and eventually branched out and sold some yarn.

I’m not an accomplished knitter, but I did knit a cute little dress for my first grandchild. I have knit socks and hats and scarves. But once my shop closed and I got rid of most of the inventory, I was pretty burned out on needlework. Since Mr. Virgo died, I haven’t really been able to concentrate on anything like this. I don’t have the attention span to watch a movie, let alone knit something to completion.

We were exploring Kitty Hawk the other day. We were looking for some really good cheese to eat while sitting on the beach and found a little wine and cheese bar called Trio. And, a couple of doors down is a yarn shop. Knitting Addiction is two stories of brightly lit space filled with a cornucopia of yummy yarns. I have always enjoyed knitting socks because it’s a relatively small project that you can work on in the summer without feeling like you’re wearing a winter coat. They go pretty fast, and they make lovely handmade gifts for the special people in your life.

I talked with the shop owner, Jeanne. I told her it had been years since I could concentrate enough to knit. She got it. She has this pattern for socks, she told me. She wrote it herself for people who don’t like terribly complicated stuff but still want to create cool things. Sign me up! We went through the cool yarns and I picked out a couple. Her pattern is knit using four double point needles…three holding stitches and one for working the rows. Now, it’s been twenty years since I knit socks that way. I’ve always used the book “Socks That Soar” which uses two circular needles. I was afraid it would be too much, but I really, really wanted to try.

I sat down that night and looked at the pattern and I could feel that familiar glaze forming over my mind and I thought, “Uh-oh…I’ve just wasted my money.” Then I ran my fingers over the soft yarn. I thought of how my daughter asked me to knit her another pair of socks years ago. She never asks for anything, but I just couldn’t do it. I was determined not to give up. When we were out and about yesterday, I asked Mr. FixIt to drop me off at the yarn shop for a little while. I wanted to sit down with Jeanne for a little refresher course.

Jeanne was wonderful and showed me how to cast on and join in the round. It was like riding a bicycle…I picked it right up. I do have to work on my tension. I take tension VERY seriously…and it shows in my very tight knitting stitches. Jeanne carefully took out my cast on stitches and knit them with the proper tension that I can duplicate.

Here’s something interesting. When I meet people like Jeanne, I am often asked “What do you do?” Then the story comes out about being a writer and a speaker and a gypsy. I tell about TOW-Wanda and The Grand Adventure and the reason behind it. But this time, Spirit said…”Less is more.” So I talked about my needlework shop. Nothing about the blog or loss or Mr. Virgo. Last night, when I was writing this post, I couldn’t remember the shop owner’s name so I went to her website. On it, I found her blog. Her latest post disclosed she had lost “sweet guy” in October. And while she was doing ok, she was still struggling. She asked people to come in with a smile or pictures of the grandbaby with the new woobie you knitted for her. She asked you to make her laugh. Ohhhh, I can SO relate to that.

What made me thank God last night was this…He told me to “go see this lady. Don’t tell her of your pain. Have her help you relearn something you used to love doing. Make her laugh, even when she tells you she is struggling today. And I will renew for you this love affair with yarn.” I love the shoulder taps.

And…I made her laugh. ❤

“For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Rough Waters

Wed, 25 Apr 2018 01:30:33 -0600

“Stormy Seas”

I can hear the surf through the open window of the condo. It rained all day yesterday with a pretty strong wind coming in off the ocean which raised the surf to choppy white-capped waves. We didn’t let the steady rain keep us indoors, though. Mr. FixIt cooked a big breakfast and we headed out to explore the many antique shops on the island. I got some really great ideas for decorating the ‘67 Franklin. I hope to get started on it soon, although I am not sure I can get it done for camping this season.

The Outer Banks (OBX for short) is a long string of islands off the coast of North Carolina. We are up north in a little town called Duck. It isn’t very commercial here which is what I love about it. There are small restaurants and little shops. Everything is open already, preparing for the onslaught of the summer crowds. Shops are fully stocked and the staff are fresh and friendly. It’s easy to spend time chatting with a shop owner. I went into a yarn shop yesterday and bought some yarn to knit a couple pairs of socks for Christmas presents. I haven’t done much more than writing for so long…I am longing to be creative and make something with my hands. Although, making the time to do that will be a challenge for me. I am thinking I might be able to knit while we are driving home Saturday.

Our trip is half over already…where does the time go??? I’m thinking we’ll go see the wild horses up north today. Maybe visit a lighthouse. I love just kicking back and doing whatever we want, whenever we want. Because, when we get home…there’s work to be done. And LOTS of it! ❤

“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

Revisiting

Tue, 24 Apr 2018 01:30:45 -0600

“Time spent in nature is never lost.”

There is no way to avoid bumping into grief. It’s around the corner. On any given day, something...anything...can trigger a grief response. Sometimes it’s a whisper. Sometimes it’s a roar. It’s such a relief when things are going smoothly and the interruption is just a riffle in the stream. That’s what happened yesterday when I opened Facebook and there was one of those “memories” right in my face. There was a time that would have knocked me flat. Instead, I felt the sting then let it go. It will always be there in one form or another. I just try not to focus on it so much anymore. That doesn’t always work, but it did this time.

“Turtles at the aquarium.”

I am having such a wonderful time at the beach with Mr. FixIt. We started out yesterday with the fabulous pancakes at Stack ‘Em High 4.5. Look up Kristine…the owner’s wife. What a hoot! Then we went to the Elizabethan Gardens, the aquarium, and the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site. We learned about Sir Walter Raleigh and the Lost Colony. We drove all over Roanoke Island and saw the shipyards where they make those huge yachts. We had crab for supper, tried to see a sunset (no go…yet), and drove up the island toward Corolla. We ended the evening with a few hands of Rummy. It was a very good day.

“Dungeness crab!”

I hope you enjoy the photos. The flowers are stunning down here! ❤

“Stuffed Flounder”

“Shark!”

“Jellyfish at the aquarium.”

“Elizabethan Gardens”

“Cherub in the Hostas”

“Ornate Marble Birdbath - Elizabethan Gardens”

“Sculpture Garden”

“Interesting trees make for a pleasant stroll through the gardens on the sound.”

“Virginia Dare sculpture - Elizabethan Gardens, Roanoke Island, NC”

“If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139:9-10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Faith or Fear?

Tue, 17 Apr 2018 01:30:12 -0600

“Faith or Fear?”

I love my readers. And I love how God uses them to teach me things. “Betty” (not her real name) sent me a message yesterday morning. She found a little typo and wanted to let me know. Everyone knows I’m a stickler for good grammar and I have a few who help me catch things when they slip through. She always signs off with “WALK STRONG.” I wrote back that I was trying, but I have a few things I’m facing in the coming weeks that I could use some extra prayers for. Immediately, “Betty” came back with a valuable reminder.

God is omnipresent…He is everywhere and all powerful. The enemy is not. Our pastor says he is so small, he is under our boot. So he waits. And he listens. He finds weakness and exploits it. When we speak out loud and voice our fear or anger or doubt, he pounces on that and attacks us through our thoughts. So, we have to be careful about the words we confess…over ourselves, our circumstances, each other. “Betty” reminded me in order to defeat the enemy, we have to beat him at his own game and confess positive, Victory, light…all of which are God’s characteristics. She went on to say you have lay your burdens down at the foot of the cross and walk away. Ohhhhh…that is not an easy thing to do!

“Betty” says…you can have Faith, or you can have fear. You can’t have both…you have to choose. I took that into my situation yesterday. I drove to town professing light, strength, courage, Victory. I laid everything down and walked away and was filled with an incredible sense of peace. “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy…” John 10:10 When you open yourself by confessing fears, you open the door and let the enemy in. “WALK STRONG!” I love that!

Divine appointments. God makes appointments with us every day. He sends the Holy Spirit to counsel us. In this case, He sent “Betty” with word of a typo that turned into a valuable lesson of Faith for me. It literally changed my day. It doesn’t work if you don’t listen. And it doesn’t work if you don’t obey. This life gig is pretty cool if you think about it. We have this incredible supernatural Father that loves us, craves interaction with us, sends a Spirit to coach us and teach us and, dare I say, scold us when we need it. And all we have to do is trust, and believe, and listen, and follow directions. Amazing!

Who is your “Betty” today? ❤

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” ‭‭John‬ ‭10:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Back to Square One

Mon, 16 Apr 2018 01:30:17 -0600

“Back to Square One”

I need to exercise more! After sitting on my hiney all winter long writing and working on my website, I went out Friday and Saturday and worked in the yard. As I began my two hour excursion on the riding mower, the word “sunscreen” flitted through my mind like a feather on the wind and was gone just as quickly. After all, I had a broad brimmed hat on…what could go wrong? Ohhhh…I paid for that Saturday night. I couldn’t find anything in the house to put on my sunburned arms and shoulders and felt too miserable to even think about looking up home remedies on the internet. Then yesterday morning I tried to get out of bed and discovered muscles I’d forgotten I had. The word grumpy comes to mind. I turned over and went back to sleep and ended up missing morning services.

I looked in the mirror the other day and realized all that hard work I did climbing all those stairs a couple years ago is long gone. Hard muscles have been replaced with something between cottage cheese and pizza dough. My stamina is decreased, I get sick easier, and I’m turning sixty-five in two months. This simply will not do! I told Mr. FixIt we have to get back in gear this spring. Fortunately, he’s a good eater and loves to exercise so I have a partner to motivate me.

We will be heading to the Outer Banks this week. The bikes are coming with us this time. I anticipate lots of long walks on the beach and bike rides in the evenings. The weather will be cool but hopefully the rain will stay away for the most part. If not, there is an exercise room at the condo complex. We have a full kitchen in our place so we can eat well and stay out of expensive, fattening restaurants. It will be nice to get away and sit by the ocean for a while. We have visits with family coming up as well on this trip so we’re really looking forward to the break. ❤

“This is what the Lord says, he who appoints the sun to shine by day, who decrees the moon and stars to shine by night, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar— the Lord Almighty is his name:” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭31:35‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Sacrosanct

Sat, 14 Apr 2018 01:30:03 -0600

“It’s good to love again.”

Fridays. Since we first started dating, Fridays have been declared “sacrosanct”…too important or valuable to be interfered with. We don’t make plans with anyone on Fridays. That’s OUR day. We go where we want, do what we want. No obligations other than to enjoy each other’s company to the fullest. I’ve come to love Fridays. We look forward all week long to our special day. It’s special because we declared it so.

We packed up from our week at the farm and headed back to the Ponderosa yesterday. We went to Walmart and bought oil and a filter so I could change the oil on my truck before we leave next week for the beach. It was only the second time I’ve changed the oil and Mr. FixIt sat right there and answered any questions I had. He handed me tools. And he offered words of encouragement when things didn’t go quite as smoothly as they had the first time. First, I tried using the creeper…that thing you lay on and roll under the vehicle. The new ramps Mr. FixIt bought aren’t as high as the old ones and with the creeper under me, I was feeling way too cramped. So I scooted back out and started over by wiggling under the truck. The engine was still pretty warm so the oil was runny and when I took the plug out of the oil pan, it sprayed everywhere. All over me…in my hair. What a mess. But, eventually…I got it done.

I have never had a qualm about doing hefty projects around the house, but I always deferred things like changing the oil to the man of the house or the guy at Jiffy Lube. It never occurred to me to do these things. But after Mr. Virgo died, I felt so incompetent at so many things. I vowed I would learn how to do anything that needed doing so I would never feel that vulnerable again. Mr. FixIt is an excellent teacher and has infinite patience with me. At first, I think it bothered him a bit that I wanted to do things myself. It gives him great pleasure to do things for me. Now he seems to get a big kick out of watching me accomplish something and be so proud of myself.

Loving after loss is different. I’m much more independent and assertive than I have ever been. This love encompasses fierce bravery and incredible tenderness. Case in point…I was putting laundry away yesterday when the song “At Last” came on the playlist. Out of the blue, I was standing in Rivers Restaurant on a crisp April day…dancing in Mr. Virgo’s arms. Our first, and only, dance was at our wedding reception. Nine times out of ten, I can hear that song and smile. Not yesterday. I sat on the edge of the bed and cried. It’s a short song. It was soon over and I dried my eyes and went on about my work. Later, I walked through the kitchen and Mr. FixIt was doing dishes. I stopped and watched him for a few moments. When he was finished, he turned and saw me standing there and smiled as he wiped his hands.

“I love you more than I ever dreamed possible,” I said. “And, even with that deep love, I just sat on the bed and cried when “At Last” came on.”

He knows the significance of the song. He opened his arms wide and drew me into his embrace. He held me close and whispered into my hair.

“Of course you did, sweetheart. It brings back memories.”

That’s all. No attempt to jolly me out of it. No rush to move me along and change the subject. Just honor. And love. And support. And validation. No one…no one could ever ask for anything more beautiful than that. What a wonderful man.

I love Fridays. ❤

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

Farming

Wed, 11 Apr 2018 01:30:11 -0600

“Burning an Old Tree Stump”

With the onslaught of spring comes the inevitable chores. Yard work, cleaning out ditches. Picking up downed branches. Mr. FixIt is one of those guys who can’t be still…he has to be doing something. So, I asked him if he thought he could do something about that unsightly rotting tree trunk down at the end of the driveway. He did me one better. He got the lawnmower out of the barn and mulched up the leaves and got the first mowing of the season done. Then he went after the tree trunk. I am so grateful to have this man in my life. Not just for his Mr. FixIt capabilities…but for, everything!

I remember when this tree was in its prime. My uncle says it died with the emerald ash borer infestation. Lots of trees around here did. Over the last decade or so, the trunk has very slowly rotted but not fast enough for me. I don’t have a chain saw. I didn’t feel like getting the hand saw after it. I have kicked chunks off of it, but that wood is still pretty hard down in there. Mr. FixIt decided we’d just burn it out. It was a sunny day, no wind to speak of. I must say…it was pretty impressive once it got going! It will take it a while to smolder down and be gone. Then later on I can plant a flowering shrub there like Hydrangea or Rose of Sharon. We have plenty of Quince and Forsythia so I don’t want to plant that. And I really don’t want to plant another tree. We bring campers in and out of this driveway so I don’t want branches blocking the way.

Today is errand day and meeting my cousin’s wife for a big hug and a much needed visit. Every day brings us closer to warm summer evenings sitting on the porch drinking sweet tea. And every day brings us closer to saying goodbye to him whom we adore. This will be a bittersweet year. ❤️

“The earth is the Lord ’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein,” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭24:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Moment of Panic...

Tue, 10 Apr 2018 01:30:49 -0600

“A Moment of Panic…”

This is one of those moments when my mind ran about a hundred yards ahead of me and took me on a wild goose chase. A few days ago, when I was working hot and heavy on the taxes, I noticed some of my files on my new laptop had a red “x” on the upper left corner of the icon. I really didn’t take time to figure out what was going on because I had other fish to fry. When the taxes were finally completed Saturday, and I took a much needed day of rest on Sunday, I dove back in to the computer to find out what was going on.

After checking, it seemed all of the files had some connection to OneDrive…Microsoft’s answer to Apple’s iCloud. Upon further investigation, I discovered Windows 10 automatically sets up OneCloud (ok, there may have been something I checked off when I set up the computer but at this point, I’ve forgotten). All of your pictures, documents, backups…you know…IMPORTANT stuff heads to outer space to be stored in some server somewhere. It was SO enticing, this “free” service Microsoft provided you. (Ok, now I remember…I DID make a choice. sigh) Did it occur to me what would happen once my laptop started vomiting 13,000 photos into a bunch of zeros and ones and that free storage was eaten up? Oh, heck no!

Eat it up it did and somewhere around the time I was backing up Quicken and TurboTax, I got a little message. “Your OneCloud is full.” When I finally got back to it yesterday morning, I went on the Microsoft site and looked for help. Reading the directions meant nothing. I went on chat. I was “number 64…please don’t move away from this page or you’ll lose your place in line.” An hour later, “Czar Niña”…I kid you not, that was the name…came on and tried to help me. Turn this off. Disconnect that. Reboot.

“If I reboot, I’ll lose you!” I said.

“Don’t worry…I’ll be here.” the Czar typed back.

I rebooted.

Gone.

sigh

I tried again and got Emil.

Emil said, “Just delete all the files with a red x.”

Are you KIDDING me??? That represents about two years of work!

“That is not an option.” I typed back.

“Well, then,” he tapped away. “Save this link and call tomorrow and you can buy premium services and we can climb into your computer and fix that bad boy for only $149 a year!” Really, I’m paraphrasing here.

“Thanks, Emil! Catch ya later!” Click.

Along about this time, I wondered what would happen if I actually clicked on the files with the red x. Would my computer die? Would there be anything there? Would I do some harm to the delicate balance of the ozone layer? Would I kill a butterfly in the Sahara? What the heck…I’ve come this far.

Click.

Everything was there. It seems, if you want the red x to go away, you have to buy the upgraded storage, which…of course…I had already done by this time. I am “syncing” 13,000+ photos and documents to an unknown climate controlled electronic box somewhere in India that I forked out $72 and change for so that Microsoft would stop holding my data hostage when it was there all along.

heavy sigh

I don’t know…I think I’d pass on the OneCloud thingy if you have more than fifty or so pictures of your cats because you just may never see Fluffy again without paying the big bucks!

But, the real moral of the story is…I failed, yet again, to be present and not let panic rush over me. Remembering first that God is with me and He will help me, even when my Gemini grief-brain takes me off chasing rabbits. It would have saved me a lot of unnecessary angst yesterday.

“Lord, help me remember You are there.” Amen ❤️

“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

Hiraeth

Mon, 09 Apr 2018 01:30:04 -0600

“Hiraeth…a longing for a home you can’t return to.”

A Welsh word for the yearning…the grief for the places of your past. Yet, not necessarily a house. A place in your life that you can never return to. This is so much of what grief is…that longing to return to that homely feeling of the love you shared with another. I remember feeling this so very strongly after losing my grandma. And then my mom. It consumed me when I lost Mr. Virgo…that longing for home.

I felt it when I lost my dad, but in a different way. I yearned for the daddy I never had…not the father that was lost in his cups. I feel it from time to time for my mother’s house that I regretted selling almost before the ink was dry.

I feel it in a way, at this very moment, lying in my grandparent’s bedroom…knowing each day here is one closer to the last I will experience in this place. Anticipatory hiraeth. I wonder if that’s a “thing”?

I know this word. I feel this word in my bones. The dichotomy is not lost on me. Unspeakable joy, unspeakable tragedy, unspeakable joy. The ebb and flow of life swings with such violence at times. Right now, I’m enjoying an easy float down a peaceful stream, my fingers gently trailing in the calm blue water. But my bones remember. Bones never forget. ❤️

“By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

#Hiraeth, #longing, #love, #home

Doing the Happy Dance!!!

Sun, 08 Apr 2018 01:30:47 -0600

“Organized Chaos”

Wahoo! I not only got the taxes done, but I found the results to be quite pleasing. I don’t know why I was so worried. I had myself convinced I was going to have to pay a huge amount but that didn’t turn out to be the case. I feel such a heavy load has been lifted. Now I can go get the new brakes on my truck this week. I was putting it off till I was sure about the taxes.

Getting these deadlines and the taxes behind me has opened my coming days to more enjoyable pursuits. We’re going to spend more time at the farm to enjoy all of grandma’s flowers. We’ll start preparing for our trip to the beach. There are some outdoor things at both houses that need doing…cleaning off the porches, trimming some shrubs, some minor hope repairs. Not to mention start cleaning out that huge building behind Mr. FixIt’s house. I’m telling you…even THAT tops doing paperwork and taxes!

The other day, I heard from Tammy. Those of you who have been around for a while may remember the story about meeting a woman in the Hot Springs Pool in Glenwood Springs. She had just arrived in town after driving from Cincinnati. I was leaving the locker room and saw her standing there, clutching her bag and peeking out at the pools. She wasn’t sure of the procedure. I told her how everything worked and when she came out, she sat by me in the therapeutic pool…the one that runs at 105 degrees.

We had a lovely conversation. I told her I was from Parkersburg originally, just up the river from her. Before long, she told me her father had passed away recently and she was struggling. I told her I had lost my parents, too. And it hadn’t been more than a year since I lost my husband. I quoted something from my blog…something I had just written the week before…but I didn’t identify myself as the author.

Suddenly, Tammy narrowed her eyes and asked. “Do you write a blog?”

“Why, yes. Yes, I do.” I replied, somewhat surprised.

“Is it something about marshmallows?” she asked.

“How would you know that?” I was stunned.

“I’ve been researching Glenwood Springs and your blog came up. I’ve been reading it for a while now.” Tammy smiled.

This has happened a lot over the last couple of years as the blog gets around, but this was the first time anyone knew my work and I was humbled. Tammy has followed along all these years and on occasion, we reach out and say hello. The other day, she reached out and shared something deeper. It turns out, she was very ill last year. To the point she wasn’t sure she was going to make it. She wanted to let me know that the uplifting “notes from God” that shine through my posts helped keep her going. She sat in the hospital having treatments and looked for my posts, reading them over an over and they offered her comfort and courage and hope. And,l now, thank you God, she is well and traveling again.

I got such a lump in my throat when she told me that. It reassured me, yet again, that I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. She found me when she was mourning her father. Yet she kept reading all these years. Why? I know why. God gives me the words and He brings those who need to read them. That is my prayer before I write. God is so good…he is so faithful. He knew Tammy was going to need to hear from him in a real and tangible way, so he made our paths cross that cold November night in a hot springs. I almost didn’t stop that night. I was on my way home from Denver when I just got the pull…go there.

That still, small voice can bring the most amazing experiences into your life…the most beautiful people. You just have to listen…and be obedient.

Oh, and eleven years ago yesterday, I married Mr. Virgo. The week he died, I put two alarms in my phone to repeat every year. One was the exact time we said I do. The other was the last breath he took. I’ve been busy the last couple of weeks with writing and deadlines and taxes and the date slipped my mind. Till yesterday…when the alarm went off. I smiled and whispered, “Thank you for being part of my life.” Then I removed the alarm. I thought about it for a moment, and removed the alarm that would forever remind me of the exact time of his death, as well. I didn’t need either one anymore.

It was time.❤

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭2:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Standing on the Edge

Thu, 05 Apr 2018 01:30:48 -0600

“The Sweetest Love”

Ever since I changed my Twitter handle to @GriefMaven, I’ve been meeting the coolest people in the grief support community. I have had more interaction and made more connections in the last month than I did in all of the five years prior. I have to admit, I didn’t really “get” Twitter. You send some random thought out, you throw a few hashtags with it in the hopes someone else is interested in said hashtagged subjects, then they like your Tweet. Maybe you get the cherished “Retweet” where they like it so much, they send it on. Or…the Holy Grail of Tweetdom…they FOLLOW you! They like you enough to watch what you’ll say next. I get it now. You can truly build a community in Twitter and I must say I am enjoying it tremendously. It’s an excellent platform to build each other up.

In the process of tweeting and retweeting, I find writers I may not have found otherwise. Such is the case of Catherine Tidd. She wrote a guest post on Hello Grief (hellogrief.org) about dating. The horse has already left the barn for me, but some of you may be thinking about dating again. If so, I couldn’t have written a better article about it that Catherine did with “Time to Cast the Line”. (I’ll leave the link at the bottom of this post.)

Ever since I started dating Mr. FixIt, there has been this deep “feeling” I haven’t been able to express. It flits to the surface on occasion and I stuff it back down because people might not understand. Heck…even I don’t understand. So I stuff it back down, feeling like I should be celebrating something but can’t let myself. Catherine’s article articulates what I’ve been feeling so well, so I’ll just share it here. And then we’ll discuss it.

This is the best relationship I have ever been in.

There. I’ve said it. It’s the best, really. It’s deeper. It’s broader. It’s lighter. It’s easier. It’s filled with love and laughter and light and God. I was so afraid admitting this would somehow be disrespectful of what I had before. So, what does that mean about my marriage? My relationship with Mr. Virgo? Our life and love?

Absolutely. Nothing.

You know why? Because I’m not the same woman Mr. Virgo married. I’m not the same woman that lived with him. I’m not the same woman that loved him. I’m so much more now…BECAUSE I had him. BECAUSE I was married to him. BECAUSE I loved him. And…BECAUSE he died. I hate when people tell you everything happens for a reason. My friend, Debbie Weiss (@thehungoverwidow) says she hates when someone says everything happens for a reason, as if her husband’s death was necessary to stave off a plague of frogs. (Read her…she’s funny!)

I didn’t have to lose Mr. Virgo to gain some sort of amazing insight into my existence. I didn’t have to lose him to achieve a grand level of personal growth. But…those things happened, and I’m a different person than I was before. (Remember my pickle/cucumber analogy?) Like Catherine says in her article…who knows if Mr. Virgo would even LIKE who I am now? I’m stronger and much more outspoken. I’m a hundred times more independent. When I want to pick up and go…I go. He told me from the outset that he didn’t date women who wanted to pick up and go. He wanted someone who would be there with him. So…I was there. I don’t regret it. Not for a minute. But I’m not that same person. And, fortunately, Mr. FixIt knows that and understands me.

I could never find another man like Mr. Virgo. And if I did, maybe it wouldn’t work for me in this incarnation of myself. Does that mean I don’t still love him. Of course not. Does it mean I’ve “gotten over him?” Oh, h*** no! You don’t ever “get over” someone you loved with the white hot heat of the sun. But the sun is shining again. And…the sun shines bright now because I longed for the sun…I was so ready for the sun…I will cherish every moment I can get in the sun.

It’s ok if you don’t ever want to date again. I am behind you 100%. Some people are just happy as little clams to not be bothered. Good for you! You know yourself and that is awesome. But, if you feel…even a little bit…that you miss the companionship of another, the warmth of another, the humor of another….don’t be afraid. There are good men out there. There really are. Mr. FixIt is proof of that. This is the best…really. ❤️

www.hellogrief.org/time-to-c…

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:16-19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

#love, #MovingForward, #relationships

Thunder!

Wed, 04 Apr 2018 01:30:12 -0600

“He Brings Me Bluebirds”

Oh, there is nothing like a good ol’ thunderstorm and a hard rain on this old roof to bring me into my cozy “safe place”. As I sit in my familiar chair at the front window, I can see through the veil of rain to the far hillside. The neighbor across the way lost his culvert drain last spring and spent much of the summer building and hand carrying five gallon buckets of gravel up the hill to fill in around the new drainage pipe he laid. Now, there is a new waterfall to watch when the rain pours. The white splash of the water on the rocks below glows like a beacon in the gloomy darkness of the storm. Thunder crashes and the skies open and just as quickly, it drops back to the gentle rain we’ve had all morning.

Working on the computer here at the farm is a dicey proposition this time of year. The electric can go off at a moment’s notice and be off for days at a time. We had quite a wind blow through here a couple of hours before I wrote this. That can easily drop a tree or even a branch over the lines and put us out of business till the guys with the chainsaws arrive. Mr. FixIt was here and when he drove back to the Ponderosa yesterday morning, there was a huge tree down across the road about a mile and a half from the farm. When I saw that wind gust through this little holler, I just prayed God would keep the trees from tumbling down on this old house…and our old heads!

Seeing the new spring green creep its way up the hillside and filling in the lawns and fields reminds me we are inching ever closer to the warm days of sweet tea and porches. How we see the seasons is highly individualized. Some love winter, some hate it. Some cope by skiing, some by fleeing. It’s the same with grief. We each approach it in our own way and what works for one may not work for another.

As I was sitting here writing, a notification popped up on my screen in one of the widow’s groups I follow. A woman had posed a question. Someone had suggested she might benefit from seeing a counselor and she wanted our opinions. The discussion that followed involved a lot of differing opinions. When I offered that indeed grief therapy can help some who feel stuck, there was one woman who kept firing back that you can’t “treat” grief. I dealt with her in a loving way and told her I totally understood that talking with her widowed peers works for her as a way to cope and work through this journey we didn’t ask for. However, I was adamant in this…there is nothing wrong with seeking the help of a trained professional if you are feeling overwhelmed or stuck. Therapy is not intended to become a lifelong occupation. It is meant to give you a safe place to open up about your feelings in front of someone who is trained to watch for signs of severe depression or hints of thoughts of suicide. In my particular case, I was suffering from PTSD and received EMDR treatments which greatly improved the flashback and panic attacks I was experiencing. I am not a trained professional. I cannot give medical advise, I can only tell you what has helped me. I can listen. I can empathize. And I can share. How you walk this out is highly individualized. I’m just here to offer you encouragement and shine God’s light on the path ahead. We don’t “treat grief”…we experience it…and sometimes that experience includes talking to a mental health professional. There is no shame in that. ❤️

“Our sorrows are all, like ourselves, mortal. There are no immortal sorrows for immortal souls. They come, but blessed be God, they also go. Like birds of the air, they fly over our heads. But they cannot make their abode in our souls. We suffer today, but we shall rejoice tomorrow.” Charles Spurgeon

““Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭7:7-8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Gentle Guidance

Mon, 02 Apr 2018 01:30:01 -0600

“Working on my iPad in front of the big window.”

The Bible teaches us to teach others…to correct them in their ways…so that they might learn and grow and walk in the right direction with God. Yesterday, I was the recipient of such gentle guidance and it struck me deeply. It gave me a sudden insight into my own behaviors and was most welcomed.

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve mentioned several times how much work it has been to copy over the old posts from Facebook to my website. In looking back, I can see whining and complaining showing through my words. Sometimes it takes someone else to shine a light on a situation for you to really see it. That’s exactly what happened when a gentle reader wrote to me and pointed out the Bible loves a cheerful giver. I am giving to that new widow by making it easier for her to read the works that will speak into to her current situation. She pointed out that God uses ALL things for HIS good…and that includes when he put it on my heart to copy all this work over. I was reminded to think about what my spirit was while transferring. I simply love that and I am so grateful for her for taking this moment to teach me and gently correct my path. That is what we are supposed to do as Christians.

It reminded me of 2 Timothy 3:16-17. “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” I get busy and self absorbed and sometimes feel overwhelmed with writing deadlines. Between that and the taxes, I did not have my heart in the right place as I copied and pasted. I was just looking at it as another chore to be done. I wasn’t being mindful of the intent and for whom I was sacrificing.

Thank you, dear one. Thank you for the gentle correction and uplifting guidance. It changed my heart. ❤️

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭4:23‬ ‭NIV‬‬

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

Rain on a Tin Roof

Wed, 28 Mar 2018 01:30:17 -0600

“Boy Cat”

Mr. FixIt and I both have a stack of things to do so we’re hunkered down in our respective houses working away. There’s taxes and banking, a new computer to set up, bills to pay, and writing deadlines. Every day I get a greater sense of urgency to copy my Facebook posts over to my website and it stuns me how much content is there. I know there is an end, but it’s nowhere in sight at the moment. I have been copying each post to the website for the last sixteen months. The backlog is entered up to September 2014, with a few blank spots I have to fill in.

If you have to be stuck inside doing paperwork, at least the weather isn’t sunny and warm outside. It rained off and on all day yesterday and as I typed this post last night, a gentle rain pattered on the tin roof of the farm house. I cannot hear that sound without smiling. I know every sound, every creak, every settling whisper of this old house. When I am here, I am wrapped in the arms of family memories as comforting as one of grandma’s quilts. The weather forecast shows a prolonged rain pattern which is typical for this time of year in West Virginia. It’s mud season. So there will be a few more nights of rain song here at “Marshmallow Ranch.”

The daffodils are almost open here on the farm. This little holler stays a good bit cooler than some of the surrounding area because we don’t get a lot of sun. Our flowers are always just a little bit behind. When I was copying posts over yesterday, there were several pictures of the farm in all its verdant splendor. I want time to slow down from now to October. I want to pay very close attention to the buds and flowers and leaves and not miss a thing. I want to stay present and mindful. We are heading into my very favorite time of the year and I am going to enjoy every second of it! ❤️

“Ask the Lord for rain in the springtime; it is the Lord who sends the thunderstorms. He gives showers of rain to all people, and plants of the field to everyone.” ‭‭Zechariah‬ ‭10:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Peace

Tue, 27 Mar 2018 01:30:52 -0600

“Peace on the Porch”

I don’t think you can see in this picture, but there are some forsythia starting to bloom on the far side of the bank and some quince on this side. Another day or two and you’ll really be able to see them. Not much green on the hillsides yet, but the fields and lawns are greening up nicely here in West Virginia.

I came out to the farm for a little retreat because I have some writing deadlines. Yesterday, I worked on copying posts over to the website again. I have to spend some time on it every day and get it done before Facebook implodes. I’m up to the point in the blog where I am downsizing. Selling the house, getting rid of 95% of my personal belongings. Getting the house staged. I am not taking the time to read these posts as a rule, but a couple of the headlines caught my attention and I skimmed through two or three of the posts. OMGosh! I had totally forgotten how horrendous that whole process was! I am SO happy to be on the other side of it now.

As I was writing yesterday afternoon, I had the doors open to let the breeze through and air out the house. All of a sudden, I heard the screen door in the kitchen open and close. I jumped up like I was shot and looked in and there was Boy Cat on his way into the house. He took one look at me and thought better of it and backed out slowly. I went in and shut the door because I don’t have a hook on that screen. Tricky boy!

Then last night I was propped up writing this when I heard a mighty crash on the back porch and knew right away what it was. I had left the lid off the cat food can. I ran out and sure enough, there was a little possum in the can, munching away. I shooed him off and locked the lid on. Just a little while later, I had to break up a cat fight just outside the back door. Then not too long after that, I heard what I assume was the neighbor’s dog trotting up the creek past my bedroom window to see if there were any treats to be had. Sorry Mr. Doggy…Mr. Possum got here first!

Such is life back on the farm. I love it here and especially miss it in the spring. We need to stay here more now that the spring flowers will be in bloom before long. Life is good…no matter where we are. ❤️

““Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11:28‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Kitchen Sink

Sun, 25 Mar 2018 01:30:15 -0600

“You know you’ve turned a corner when you stop eating over the kitchen sink…most of the time.”

I remember well…not wanting to eat but knowing I had to. Really, what I wanted to do was just wither up and die. It happened when Hubby #2 wanted out. It happened again when Hubby #3 up and died on me. It was everything I could do to make myself eat something and when I did, I wanted it over with…FAST.

Why is that? I think it’s because dining is a social ritual as much as giving your body what it needs. Dining also gives your mind what it needs…conversation, socialization, eye contact, touching hands as you pass the food, and (if you are MOST fortunate) doing the dishes together. When your partner dies, everything changes. What you eat. Even the way you eat it.

I remember stopping at the store and buying a rotisserie chicken because I hadn’t had protein for longer than I could remember. Nothing tasted good. Everything tasted like wet cardboard. You could chew oatmeal forever and not swallow. For some reason, a rotisserie chicken sounded comforting. I picked out a nice, plump hen…roasted golden brown. It smelled of herbs and garlic and whatever magic they put in those things to make them fall off the bone delicious.

I got home and went straight to the kitchen sink, ripped open the container, and…standing there in front of the kitchen window…I grabbed hot, juicy chicken by the handfuls and shoved them in my mouth. I was suddenly ravenous. It was barbaric. As some point I stopped and caught my reflection in the glass door of the microwave. I didn’t even recognize myself. Who WAS this mad woman in my kitchen, eating roasted chicken with her bare hands, grease dripping off her chin onto her good work clothes she hadn’t even taken off?

I covered the container, washed my hands, and put the leftovers in the fridge. I went into the bedroom and sat on his side of the bed and started talking to him.

“Babe, I’m in trouble here.” I whispered. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. I eat like a dog rummaging through the can next door. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” I stretched out on his side of the bed, buried my face in his pillow, and cried gut-wrenching sobs till I fell asleep. I woke up somewhere around 3:00am with the full moon shining in my eyes through the bedroom window. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees and gently rocked myself…still on his side of the bed. Suddenly, I remembered something.

Mr. Virgo and I had a formal dining room table and a beautiful kitchen table and chairs made out of hickory. The only sore spot in our marriage was his insistence that we sit at the coffee table in the living room and watch TV when we ate. I hated that. HATED. But I did it. Because…I know know. I loved him. And he liked it. So I gave in. I hadn’t turned the TV on since he died. I hated it that much. And now? Now I could look at this as a new beginning. A new start. A new…normal. Not that I liked that very much but it was a far cry better than eating like a pig over a trough.

For the next twenty-one days, I cooked. And I dressed the table…MY table…the one I wanted Mr. Virgo to sit at with me. I bought myself flowers every week. I lit candles. I put on music. And I made myself sit down and eat. The only distraction I allowed myself was one magazine…something without a lot of words…something with lots of glossy pictures of flower gardens and beautiful houses. At the end of the three weeks, I was tamed. I wasn’t eating rotisserie chicken with my bare hands over the kitchen sink anymore. I considered that a success.

Now that Mr. FixIt and I are together, I started things out right from the very beginning. Meal times are for sharing conversation. Making eye contact. Slowing down and connecting and savoring…not only the food, but each other. No cell phones. No newspapers. No mail sorting. No TV. Just us. And someday…if I lose him…I’ll have these beautiful memories to hold in my heart. And I’ll remember how to be civilized and dine. ❤

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭10:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Becoming a Pickle

Thu, 22 Mar 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“Spring Snow”

I worked all day again, copying old posts, pasting them into the website blog. I watched the snowfall outside my window on the first day of spring, filling me with a mix of warm memories and melancholy. I wrote an outline for a project I’m working on. I caught up with old friends. Mr. FixIt brought home my favorite salad from Chik-fil-A. We watched the recording of the new season of American Idol. Then I retreated to the back of the house to write my post. It’s our routine now. One we are both comfortable with.

I quickly scanned my Facebook feed, stopping to read one that spoke to my heart. One of the most humbling experiences I have in doing this grief work is mentoring other widows. A couple of years ago, I met Deneene. She was referred to me by a friend of mine because she was approaching the first “angelversary” of her husband’s death. She was struggling, as we all do with such monumental firsts. When someone tells me they were referred by someone I know, I take a peek at their profile to see if, by chance, they live near me. Sure enough, Deneene lived in my little town in West Virginia. I sent her a private message and invited her to coffee.

We met at Panera on a cold, late winter day and our one hour coffee meeting turned into a four hour gab fest and a life long friendship. I have watched Deneene grow and heal and change and stretch. I’ve watched her be surprised by a new, great love who came into her life. I’ve watched her basically move away to the south with her new love, building a new life. I am so proud of her…so happy for her. And, I miss my coffee buddy, my movie partner, my Girl Camper queen. But such is life…it twists and turns and changes and it’s beautiful.

Monday is the third “angelversary” of her loss. She’s chosen how she will honor that and her beau, like Mr. FixIt, has a big enough heart for her AND her late husband. I was reading her Facebook post tonight and she mentioned something I told her that very first day we met. We were talking about how much our lives have changed…change we certainly did not want…change we didn’t see coming and weren’t prepared for. I told her we were pickles now. She looked at me, puzzled.

“You see, we were cucumbers all our lives. And now, we’re pickles. Once you’re a pickle, you don’t get to go back and be a fresh, green cucumber. Now you get to choose…are you sour? Or are you sweet?”

My heart is with you in the coming days, D. And let me tell you…you’re the sweetest little pickle there ever was! ❤

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you…” ‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Source of Peace

Wed, 21 Mar 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“The Lord is my refuge, my source of Peace.”

I worked again yesterday copying my posts from the Marshmallow Ranch Facebook page over to www.marshmallowranch.com. I feel this sense of urgency to get that finished, especially with the negative press FB has been receiving of late. In the past, diving back into my early writings took me to dark places I really had no business visiting very often. I remember during the first year after becoming a widow, I took TOW-Wanda to southwest Colorado and parked her on my dear friend Sue’s ten acres overlooking Mesa Verde. Sue is my yogi earth mother friend who holds me in her heart from long distances in space and time. We just have this beautiful connection. I remember sitting with her, quietly having tea and watching the abundance of birds at the numerous feeders on her veranda. I was avoiding writing because it was too painful.

“You must write now…simply BECAUSE it is painful. If you wait too long, you will lose your voice. The angst will be healed and we will miss feeling your heart in your words.”

As I’m copying my early work, I can see what she means. I read the emotions in every word. The ups. The downs. The mask of happiness. The mask of relationships. The mask of strength. Inside I was screaming down the hallways of my 3:00 mind, jiggling doorknobs…desperate to get out of that hell I found myself in.

Five years out, I see that pain differently. I see the place when I started finding my refuge in God. When I truly learned to seek His face…His peace. I remember clearly the day I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “You must tell them where you find your peace.” I remember clearly arguing with Him and saying, “Oh, no…I really don’t!” And…as in most arguments I have with God…He won.

I try to walk my faith out in my writing without beating people over the head with it. My grandma always said you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. I cannot change anyone’s views on faith. I don’t even try. I just tell you how I feel. I tell you what has worked for me. I tell you where I find my peace. I lay it all down here. Pick it up. Don’t pick it up. That’s not for me to decide. I know there are people who grieve without faith. I will never criticize another’s walk. I have enough trouble walking my own path. Personally, I cannot imagine doing this without God. He has brought me great comfort and peace. He is my refuge. But I love you and embrace you no matter what your grief walk looks like. I just pray my words help you in some way.

Grief is like wearing a pair of stiff leather shoes without socks…maybe with some gravel in them. Every step hurts worse than the last. You get blisters that break open and bleed. There are times you can barely walk for the pain. At some point, you think to shake the gravel out…like when I stopped looking at pictures of my dead husband in his casket. There…that’s a little easier. Then in time, you think maybe bandaids will fix everything and take the pain away…like when I tried dating WAY too soon only to find the wounds festering when I ripped the bandages off. Finally, I thought to ask God to take over and He led me to a cool spring and gave me a thick pair of comfortable wool socks to put on. Ahhhhh…..MUCH better. Finally, there comes a time when the leather has conformed, molding and cradling to your feet and carrying you step by step through your life. These worn-in shoes will never fall off…will never wear out. They’ll be there forever, reminding you of how awful they were when you first put them on. And one day, you will look down and smile because they’ll remind you…not so much of the pain, but of the love you walked with before you got them.

They become love shoes. ❤️

““I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It’s SPRING!!!

Tue, 20 Mar 2018 01:30:28 -0600

“The First Buds of Spring”

I hold my breath all winter for this day! I really, really try to like winter. I’ve tried making friends with it. I’ve tried ignoring it. I’ve tried going to warm places during it. But it’s the lack of light that does me in. I just sink…to varying degrees. Some years I float just under the surface. Other years I sink like a stone. I think this was a stone year but I’m fighting my way back up.

One of the challenges I’m faced with right now is feverishly copying five years of blog posts from Facebook to my website. It is a project I delve into from time to time, but I’m so worried about what would happen if FB went away. I would lose TONS of content. I sat down one day and did a very rough calculation and figured I have over a MILLION words here on Marshmallow Ranch. It would be a tragedy to lose that so I’ve been working away at it for the last week. Diving down into some of that stuff is hard. But seeing these buds out in the yard yesterday made my heart sing! It was 74 degrees, and…we are expecting 3-6” of snow Wednesday. Argh!

Also, today would have been Mr. Rogers’ 90th birthday. I’m really looking forward to the biopic featuring Tom Hanks as Mr. Rogers! I love them both.

Enjoy the First Day of Spring, my lovely friends! Get out and do something fun! ❤️

“Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”” ‭‭Hosea‬ ‭6:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Catching Up

Sun, 18 Mar 2018 01:30:52 -0600

“Copying content to the website.”

It’s not necessarily that I’m a procrastinator so much as it’s being a Gemini. I have to be in the mood to do something or I really don’t do it well. Or I don’t stick to it. The last couple of days, I decided I felt like diving back in and working on copying the Facebook content of Marshmallow Ranch over to the website blog. It is a HUGE undertaking and sometimes it can send me down a rabbit hole. Not this time. I read and corrected any grammar errors and, even though I was terribly tempted on a few of those posts, I left everything as it was. I look at some of the posts and wonder what on EARTH I was thinking! Remember that “bandaid relationship” when I “dated” that guy from my high school class? Not a bad man, really….but certainly not MY man and certainly WAY too early.

Daughter #2 called me the other day and I told her I had run across the post where I “introduced this guy”. She said, “Oh, my gosh, Mom…what did you do?” I told her I left it like it was. It’s embarrassing that I thought I was ready to date just six months after Mr. Virgo died. But it’s also a true testament as to how totally crazy grief can make you. I know there are some who can make a relationship like that work, but for me, it was desperate cry for help. I just wanted the bleeding to stop and he was my bandaid. The thing was, once I figured that out and pulled that bandaid off…it was a hundred times worse.

I ran across the one year angelversary tribute to Mr. Virgo and instead of feeling sad, I felt proud and full of love. I wrote a loving tribute to him and it was fitting to the love we had together. I found the post where I gave his guitar to the alternative high school’s music program. The one where I had to put TOW-Wanda to bed for the winter. The only bad thing about this is I’m finding holes in the timeline where I feel posts are missing from Facebook. Another reason why I need to duplicate the content and put it on my website where it’s safe.

I’ve posted about a year of the old stories and you can find them on the website by looking at the timeline over on the right side of the page. My goal has been to get these all over there so new widows can go back and read the earlier content when things were so rough and raw. You’ll see some good ones, some sad ones, some embarrassing ones, some sweet ones. Hope you enjoy them as much as I did looking back. ❤️

“Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Pages from the Past

Thu, 15 Mar 2018 01:30:57 -0600

“Scrapbook”

Who kept a scrapbook growing up? My mom had oodles of them. She had page after page of obituaries, memorial cards from funerals, pictures of people she knew who were in the paper, articles of interest to her. She had book after book of pictures she cut out of magazines. There must have been twenty books of postage stamps. Nothing valuable, mind you. And nothing mounted or preserved in the way of a philatelist. These were just stamps she thought were pretty or interesting that she saw on the letters she sorted over the years of working in offices. She would tear the envelope around the stamps and stick them six to a page in those photo albums with the clear plastic that covered whatever you stuck to that sticky paper. You know, the kind you could never remove anything from 50 years later.

Tuesdays are usually our stay-at-home day. We just hang out and don’t do much of anything. I was writing so Mr. FixIt went rummaging around in a closet and came out with a box marked “scrapbooks”. That piqued my interest. He spent the better part of four hours reading cards, looking at pictures, opening small boxes of treasures. Of particular interest to me were items from high school since we graduated together. Mr. FixIt was the head of the Stage Crew and he had all of the flyers from the shows. I was in the art department and had worked on the sets of many of those productions so it was fun going down memory lane with him.

I took photos of several of the items in the box and posted them on our class page on Facebook. When you find that kind of treasure…you share. We had so much fun last night reading the comments from our classmates as they found their names on programs they hadn’t seen in nearly fifty years. Joy…I’m all about the joy. When I can bring a smile to someone’s face, my world is complete!

When I downsized, I did get rid of a lot of those things of Mom’s. She left the stamp scrapbooks to Daughter #2, her coins and jewelry to Daughter #1. None of it had more value than the sentiment of it belonging to their Grammy. I donated some collections to the library and some genealogy work to the the Hacker’s Creek Pioneers of the Central West Virginia Genealogy Society. I gave some particularly sentimental things to a cousin who will treasure them. And I kept what I could, carefully choosing what to keep and what to let go.

Trimming my life back like that opened up so many options for me. It’s not like my children or grandchildren want any of that stuff. I remember an aunt telling me long ago to not burden my children with the things I wanted them to have. Just give them the choice of what they want, keep what I absolutely couldn’t part with, send the next best things off to those who will love them as I did, and say goodbye to the rest of it. This is particularly difficult when you are a widow because those things often represent you as a couple. Mr. FixIt is a sentimental man. He holds on to things, but he’s learning to let go…little by little. ❤

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Feathers

Wed, 14 Mar 2018 01:30:48 -0600

“Matching Feather Tattoos”

Ever since Mr. Virgo died, I see birds in unexpected places…bluebirds in particular. They came to me when I sat crying at his grave many times. Once, three bluebirds actually came and sat on the open truck door as I rested my boots on the armrest. It was so comforting to me. People give me feathers. I find beautiful feathers everywhere. If they aren’t actually FROM him, they certainly make me think of him and smile.

A couple of months ago, I was out at the farm feeding the kitties and checking inside. I have a habit of laying the feathers I find up on my grandma’s buffet next to a heart shaped rock I brought to West Virginia with me. It was on Mr. Virgo’s grave and I was afraid someone might take it. Now it rests where I can see it and the feathers. I noticed on that day, one of the feathers was missing. I looked all around and under the buffet but it was gone. I was in a bit of a hurry and left, forgetting all about the feather.

Last week when I was feeling so bad about the upcoming angelversary of Mr. Virgo’s passing, I wanted to go to the farm. It’s my touchstone…my safe place. I needed the comfort of familiar surroundings. Mr. FixIt drove out with me. While he was checking the mail and the bird feeders out front, I went on in the house. As I walked through the dining room…there was the missing feather on the floor.

Seriously.

“Ahhh, it’s YOU!” I said as I stooped to pick up the feather. “You stinker…you told me you’d let me know you were here. I’ve got to say…I’m impressed!”

Mr. Virgo always told me he would do whatever he could to let me know he’s with me. God knows that, so He gives me reminders of my sweet Mr. Virgo. Feathers. Bluebirds. Music. It was very sweet.

I heard yesterday that the publishing company I interviewed with last week decided to go with another author for their book project. The acquisitions editor wanted me to know I was in the top of the list and they loved my writing. She also said she was disappointed but hoped she could contact me should a book that might fit come along. I threw another book idea back to her so we’ll see if there’s any interest. In the meantime, I’m in discussions for another project I’m hoping with come through. I know God will place me where I need to be and He’ll open the doors to make it happen…in His time. ❤

““Ask the Lord your God for a sign, whether in the deepest depths or in the highest heights.”” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭7:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Peace Be Still

Mon, 12 Mar 2018 01:30:00 -0600

“Peace Be Still - The Belonging Co”

The pain of new grief is nearly indescribable. It takes physical form in your body keeping you from drawing a deep breath or sleeping or eating. Like an amputee, you have had half of your heart removed and you don’t know how to live like that. It was brutal. Wave after wave of grief crashed over me with no time for a breath in between. I felt I would surely drown. I was numb. I couldn’t retain information. I couldn’t watch a movie or read a book.

After a couple of years the waves were a little less forceful, a little less often. But the memory of the pain filled me with fear. What if it came back? What if it never stops? I wasn’t sure I wanted to live like that forever. I wasn’t sure I COULD. As soon as I began to feel a wave coming I panicked. There were so many nights I lay awake…all night long. I can’t tell you how many nights I was up throwing up all night. It was so incredibly painful.

Through my writing I found an outlet for the pain. Through my faith I found an outlet for my fear. Last week I let some of that fear slip back in as I anticipated today. Five years gone. How can that be? I’ve knitted together a totally different life now. He’s been gone almost as long as we were married. I can’t smell his skin anymore, yet I can describe my memory of it. I can’t see his hands anymore, yet I can describe how they felt when he guided me to a table in a restaurant. That was my biggest fear…forgetting. Time twists our memories and they fade. And that made me sad…again.

Peace Be Still. This song lifted me all weekend. The worship team at our church played it Friday night at the women’s conference and it stuck with me all weekend. They played it again in church yesterday. I downloaded it in the lobby on my way out and played it over and over yesterday as I browsed through photographic memories of Mr. Virgo and me.

The first line speaks to me. “I don’t want to be afraid every time I face the waves.” After the chorus…”I’m not gonna be afraid ‘cause these waves are only waves.” In acute grief when I was physically mourning, the waves were urgent and overwhelming. When it got to the point I was fearing the waves, I had to remind myself I had survived them 100% of the time up to that point.

My favorite line of the song comes later.

“Peace be still You are here so it is well Even when my eyes can’t see I will trust the voice that speaks Peace, Peace Over me”

I made a conscious decision yesterday. I’ve decided to celebrate Mr. Virgo’s birthday as my day of remembrance of him. That day is associated with happy thoughts. I think focusing on the sad days is keeping me in that sad place over and over and over and maybe that isn’t as helpful as it used to be. It’s an evolution of grief…looking forward since that’s the direction I’m going. That doesn’t mean I won’t remember or feel sad. It doesn’t mean I won’t have waves on occasion. I’m all about feeling my feelings. I’m also a proponent of letting go and letting God work in me.

Anyway…as much as I hate the phrase “it is what it is”, there’s truth in that. I can’t change anything about what today is, but I can change my focus. I feel SO much better than I did late last week. I’ll do what I always do…put one foot in front of the other, lift my head up, and keep moving forward. ❤

youtu.be/dUpKZz0Nm…

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:34‬ ‭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

Morning Walkabout

Thu, 01 Mar 2018 02:30:16 -0600

“Rhododendron and the gas light”

What an absolute treat it was to wake up out at the farm yesterday morning. Grandma’s bedroom is right along the creek’s edge and with all the rain we have been having, the sound of the water riffling along was like a lullaby. I slept so well and awoke refreshed and ready to face a busy day.

Mr. FixIt and I did a morning walkabout on the property to check things out. He moved some fallen limbs from the ditch along the road and placed them on the burn pile. The daffodils are up about 8” high already and the grass is greening up nicely. I’ll need to mow before too long to mulch up the leaves that fell over the fall and winter. The rhododendron gets huge buds on them in the fall. They winter over and won’t bloom till late May or early June. They are still beautiful as they awaken from winter with a freshened shine to their leaves. They don’t drop their leaves like so many other plants. They just droop down all winter then stand up with their arms stretched wide in the spring.

I am leaving today for a long camping weekend with the Girl Campers. We’ll be staying in cabins this trip. We try to get together in the late winter when the roads aren’t too bad. We work on whatever craft projects we have going. We make soups to share. These are some of the nicest women I have ever known and I look forward to these trips with great anticipation. I’ll share projects and recipes with you along the way but my writing may be a bit sparse this weekend as I take the time to kick back with my friends and relax.

I do have some prayer requests for some wonderful people who are touched by illness. Please pray for healing, comfort, and God’s will. He knows who the prayers are for. Thank you all for your wonderful prayer support. There are many stars in your crowns. ❤️

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Date Night

Tue, 27 Feb 2018 02:30:01 -0600

“Budding Branches”

Mr. FixIt and I live a pretty frugal life. We are careful in our spending so that we can afford small indulgences now and then. We both came from mixed backgrounds. We’ve both known what it’s like to have very little and to have much. We have a healthy appreciation of both. Because we came together later in life, money will be something we watch carefully. We have become good stewards of what God has given us.

There was a time when either one of us would have gone to games and concerts without thinking of the cost. And to be honest, now that we give a great deal of consideration toward our outings, we actually enjoy and remember them more. I can’t tell you much about the vacation to Hawaii with Hubby #2, but I can tell you where we sat, where we ate, who we played, and the nature of the basketball game we attended a year ago. Of course, the company you keep makes a difference in how memorable an occasion is, don’t you agree?

We drove up to Morgantown yesterday to see WVU beat Texas Tech…soundly. It was a good game. Not nearly as tight and exciting as the Baylor game last year, but it was Senior Night and the graduating seniors were honored. It was fun to see them go out on a winning note.

As we walked to dinner from our hotel, we remarked at what a gorgeous, sunny afternoon it was. The trees are budding as a result of the recent warming trend which may end up being a bad thing if we get a late frost. The variety of birds is increasing and it is such a lovely thing to hear nature’s orchestra filling out.

We get to take one of the grandchildren out for breakfast this morning as she is a student here. Afterward, we are going to explore around the area where my ancestors lived. We stopped at Prickett’s Fort on our way up to Morgantown yesterday. I have people in my family tree buried there. It’s a fun, overnight trip, not terribly expensive, and filled with love. ❤️

“She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:27‬ ‭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_…

Grandmother Faces

Sun, 25 Feb 2018 02:30:23 -0600

“Grandma and me at about the same age.”

I met my gal pals for coffee yesterday…these magnificent ‘71 Divas Do Coffee. We started meeting once a month about four years ago to gather at a coffee shop and participate in a little “caffeine therapy”. I had a coffee group in Colorado that met once a week for 35 years and I really missed the camaraderie. I gathered up my friends and invited them out and now we can’t imagine not getting to see each other at least that once a month visit. There are now offshoots of the group that meet for lunch almost every week. Some of them meet to take care of a flower garden in the City Park. A few of them are going to drive down Monday to see a sick friend in Huntington. They are a grand group of gals with many common bonds…predominantly graduating high school together.

Some of us were talking yesterday about how different our grandmas were when they were our age. And how we looked at them then as SO old. We are just heading into our Medicare years. We are active, healthy, and youthful compared to our counterparts when they were 65.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My grandma was a hard worker. She could work circles around women half her age. But there were differences. Some grandmas in the ‘60s worked at home. They had raised their kids and their gardens…they washed clothes in a wringer washer and hung them outside to dry. They washed their kitchen floors on their hands and knees. They rarely went to the doctor. They baked their own bread, canned and preserved food from their land. They killed rattlesnakes and copperheads in the outhouse. They cut down trees and hauled brush. They wore sensible shoes and modest cotton house dresses with a belt and a pocket for their hankies. They may not have had much formal education yet they were smart in every way necessary. They knew their neighbors and they knew their bibles. They more than likely didn’t drink or smoke. They were a different breed.

Our generation had many more opportunities than our grandparents’ did. We moved from the farm and worked a 9-5 at an office or nursing at a hospital. We worked hard, to be sure…but not necessarily at hard labor. We got better educations, better healthcare. We voted and protested and worked for women’s rights. We bought our food in a grocery store. We had modern conveniences like automatic washing machines and dryers and dishwashers and microwaves. We bought ourselves some time. We had clubs and entertainment. We had television and news of world events. And we inched ever closer to that glass ceiling.

Fashion aside, 65 year old grandmothers now are vastly different than most grandmothers of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Did my grandma FEEL old when she was my age? Do our grandchildren SEE us as ancient like we saw our grandparents. It boils down to how WE feel and I feel younger in most ways than I did thirty years ago. I know that won’t last forever. I’m feeling the pain of arthritis in my hands and knees and hips. I don’t remember quite as well as I used to. I have to take a handful of pills at night. But, I’m telling you this right now…I won’t go down without a fight! Because…today is the BEST day…the ONLY day that matters. I’m looking forward to many more. ❤

“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I’ll Pray for You

Sat, 24 Feb 2018 02:30:31 -0600

“I’ll Pray for You”

How many times do we say that? Something happens to someone and we automatically say, “I’ll pray for you!” We hear of a tragedy and we say, “I’ll pray for you!” How many times do we say that…and forget to pray? Or, how about when you’re scrolling through Facebook and someone asks for prayers. We might type “Prayers!” Or “Done!” Or my personal favorite…”???” A furtive “God, please give this woman what she’s asking for.” These are good things, don’t get me wrong. But we can do so much better.

I was working one afternoon after Mr. Virgo died and I noticed one of my coworkers was tearful. She was trying to hide it at her desk and I didn’t want to intrude. I got halfway down the hall when the Holy Spirit whispered…

“Go to her…now.”

“Awwww….c’mon. I’ve got a list of phone calls that would choke a horse! I haven’t even started the pharmacy refills yet. And I need to fax those reports. I’m really busy. Someone will help her. I’ll pray for her tonight when I get home.”

“Go to her…NOW!”

“Oooooooh…you mean…NOW! Sure!”

I turned on my heel and went back to my coworker’s desk. I didn’t say anything. She didn’t look at me, but she knew I was there. Her shoulders slumped and shook with silent sobs. I placed my hand on her shoulder and she immediately leaned into me and cried harder.

I whispered. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now…and I don’t need to know. But if you want, I would love to pray with you right now. Would that be ok?”

She whispered back, “Yes! Yes, please!”

I closed the door to her office, knelt beside her and took her hand. And prayed. I prayed for God’s love to wrap around my friend and comfort her. I prayed for strength and courage in whatever she was facing. I prayed God would use whatever trial she was walking through to bring her closer to him so she would know there was someone who always loved her, always had her back.

It didn’t take long…just a couple minutes. My friend felt so much better afterwards and my work was still there, waiting for me. I felt better, too. Because, I actually did what I said I would do. By praying with my friend, I did more than placate her to make her feel better. I called on the living God…the Highest Power…to come into the situation and work on it.

I once heard of a man in our church that was going through a rough patch. His friend was talking to him on the phone. They were both on the highway but several miles apart. The man asked his friend with the troubles to pull off at the next wide spot. Soon, he caught up and there, along I-70…the man placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, lifted his other hand to the sky, and prayed. Right there for all to see.

I don’t think you should ever miss the opportunity to pray with somebody. Of course, pray FOR them anytime. But pray WITH them whenever you can. It’s good for everyone. ❤

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“I Think We Woke Up The Children...”

Thu, 22 Feb 2018 02:30:02 -0600

“Protests…Then and Now”

Those of us who were coming of age in the ‘60s remember the protests of the day. Slogans like “Make Love, Not War” are being replaced with “Arms Are For Hugging”. For the last several years I’ve been wondering…”Where are the hippies?” The adolescents of my generation changed the world. It has been frustrating to see subsequent generations become so complacent with the status quo.

I’m not choosing sides here, although I have my own personal opinions and beliefs to be sure. I don’t advocate “taking sides” as much as I have wished for the kids to wake up and care about something. Anything. This is how change and growth occur in a democratic society.

I applaud the young people standing up and speaking out. My heart both broke for them for the subject they must address and swelled with pride to see such passion and eloquence in their plea. This is our future. I would much rather see students rally against violence in schools than to see them give up and give in. I think they didn’t realize the strength of numbers. I think they got fed up and fired up and I hope they don’t back down.

Edited*: That being said, I have been reminded by a caring reader of the ugly side of the “Make Love, Not War” movement. Our soldiers were subjected to incredible disrespect when they returned from Vietnam and there is absolutely no room for that in the world. Mr. Virgo was in Vietnam and he told me how badly he was treated when he came home. My point here is, I’m glad to see this generation stand for something instead of the disinterested me-first attitudes of so many kids growing up in the generations since the ‘60s. I know that is a generalization. Peaceful, respectful protest with meaningful, informed dialogue can effect lasting change.

I’ve been a placard carrier since the first political rally I attended. I have stood alone in a sea of opponents to support my beliefs. I have bucked the system. There came a point when I got tired. Disillusioned. Overwhelmed. We didn’t always get it right but it thrills me to see the children waking up, no matter what their call is. Another day…another dawning of the Age of Aquarius. ✌

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."” ‭‭Joshua‬ ‭1:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Taste of Spring

Wed, 21 Feb 2018 02:30:19 -0600

“Burger al Fresco”

One of the upsides of Facebook memories is documented progress. One of my readers shared a post yesterday that I wrote a year ago. I was declaring how gorgeous spring is in West Virginia. I observed the earth coming back to life, the shoots of spring bulbs exploding from the moist soil, the greening up of the world. I spoke of all the new babies being born in the fields surrounding the farm. And I talked about budding romances and how I was ready to try again. And here I am…a year later and in a relationship with a wonderful man. He is a constant reminder of how good God is to me.

We awoke yesterday to the most gorgeous of early spring days. I had a dream. I don’t remember my dreams like I used to before Mr. Virgo died. And I seldom dream of him. I dreamt I was supposed to send Mr. Virgo a text every day with a scripture in it. Suddenly, he stopped responding to my texts. I looked everywhere for him. I asked everyone if they had seen him and they just stared blankly back at me. Six months went by and then a year, then three. No word. Then, out of the blue, someone told me he had “moved on”. I felt confused. Did he move on as in, he left me for someone else? When I was fully awake, I realized what “moved on” really meant. I had an instant wave of the creepy crawlies on the backs of my arms, then it went away and I was fine. Grief visits fleetingly sometimes…like a sparrow flitting in the brush just out of view.

The temperature got up over 80 degrees. We had coffee by the pool and then headed to the farm. We cleaned inside and out. Mr. FixIt filled the bird feeders. I changed the spotlight on the three story barn. We stopped at the neighborhood grocer and bought a pound of fresh ground hamburger and sliced longhorn cheese. When we got home, we took the grill from the garage and put it on the deck by the pool and grilled burgers outside. It was sheer heaven to sit out in shorts and enjoy the evening.

Some days get burned in your memory to keep for all time. That was yesterday. There were a lot of trees down from the saturated soil and the brisk winds earlier in the day. Baby calves lay in the muddy fields by their mamas. A cardinal sang in the forsythia bush by the side gate. Mr. FixIt took the drone he got for Christmas and went outside to “play” after supper. I heard a tree fall in the woods beyond the field. A rooster crowed in the distance. Neighbors waved as they passed by. My heart felt full and ached with the beauty of it all. Jesus promised he would make all things new one day. Spring is his way of giving us a taste of things to come.

I am all too aware of how fragile this life is. It could be gone tomorrow. So I practice my word of the year and stay present. And I thank God for every moment. ❤️

“He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”” ‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Love is an Action Word

Mon, 19 Feb 2018 02:30:31 -0600

I’m doing something different today. Usually I write my essay then I go read and find a bible verse that best suits my message of the day. It’s easier that way for me because I look for verses about a certain theme, read and study them, then choose the one that speaks to me. To take a verse and pontificate on it seems a bit foreign after writing for nearly five years the other way. But today…I want to talk to you about Romans 12:6-8 specifically.

As we always do, Mr. FixIt and I stood and held hands as we prayed and sang with the praise team in church yesterday. And, as I always do on the third song, I closed my eyes and prayed. I thanked God for all he has blessed us with. I thanked him for bringing me this fine man to stand with me in church to praise with me. I recited the Prayer of Jabez and asked that he bless me indeed, that he expand my territory, walk with his hand over me, and keep evil far from me that I may not feel pain. Then I asked…”If you have a specific message for me today, please deliver it to me through Pastor Justin.” Amen

We’ve been doing a series entitled “Love Handles”. Not the muffin tops above our jeans from eating too many Oreos, but the action word…LOVE. The love we take out into the world. As Christians, we are called to be different. We aren’t supposed to go out and blend into the world. We should be shining the light of the Holy Spirit out into the world so brightly that people take notice when we walk into a room. Pastor Justin’s first Bible reading yesterday was Romans 12:6-8. It tells us that God, in his infinite grace, has given us all gifts for doing certain things very well…be it prophesy, service, teaching, encouraging, giving, leadership, or kindness. If you have a talent that comes to you easily and you do it very well, that is your gift. That is what you are here to share.

Tears came to my eyes when I listened to the verse being read. “If God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you.” Prophesy has several meanings but the one I believe was being directed to me was “preach”. As I have grown in my faith and through this blog, I was led by the Holy Spirit to include scripture in my writing. If you were here when that started, you may remember the conversation I had with God in church when I got that message loud and clear and I argued vehemently against it. I did NOT want to “be that person.” I didn’t want to be “preachy” and turn people off.

There have been instances when I see that people have “unliked” this page when I get too “churchy”. But I have to say, the most interaction this page receives is when my post is truly aligned with my heart, and thus…my faith. When I share my truth, my stories, through the lens of faith…they seem to reach through the miles and touch hearts. I’ve been feeling God nudging me to continue in that direction. That doesn’t mean every post here is going to be a sermon, because it isn’t. What it means is, I’m going to be a little less worried about what people think when I talk about God. It’s really easy to talk about God in a room full of believers. It is not nearly so easy to prophesy to those who don’t believe the same way I do. God has given me a gift of words. It is my duty to put them to the best use I can. I hope you will stick around and see where this goes because I think it’s going to get interesting. ❤

“So we are to use our different gifts in accordance with the grace that God has given us. If our gift is to speak God’s message, we should do it according to the faith that we have; if it is to serve, we should serve; if it is to teach, we should teach; if it is to encourage others, we should do so. Whoever shares with others should do it generously; whoever has authority should work hard; whoever shows kindness to others should do it cheerfully.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:6-8‬ ‭GNB‬‬

The Mountain

Sun, 18 Feb 2018 02:30:26 -0600

“My Hope is in You Alone” - MercyMe

I was writing last night and listening to a channel on Amazon Music called “Relaxing Christian Music”. MercyMe came on and sang “Even If You Don’t”. It’s about those times when your faith is challenged by the hardships you face in life. It made me think of the losses so many are facing. There are seventeen mothers and fathers preparing to lay their children to rest this week. It is easy to ask questions like, “Where was God during all this?” “How can God let bad things happen to innocent people…especially children?”

Life can be really difficult. It can be filled with challenges and unfulfilled dreams. Disappointments. Hurts. Horrors. And…it can be filled with absolutely unmovable mountains.

It’s easier to maintain our faith when the skies are sunny and life is good. When we are knee deep in blessings and goodness rains down on us like a spring shower, we’re good. But…what happens when the darkness comes? How do we maintain our faith when God seems to have abandoned us and is far, far away?

God is capable of all things. I know he can do anything. I’ve seen him do it. When I was a little girl and I sat at my grandma’s knee, I asked her how she knew Jesus was who he said he was. How did she know he really walked on water? She smiled knowingly and patted my hand. “You just have to have faith, pet.” she said in her wise grandma way. It took me most of my life to absorb that…and to believe it.

Faith.

What is faith? The Bible tells us faith is the “substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The substance of my hope is a loving God who can move mountains. The evidence of things not seen is when he refuses and I still believe in him.

Sometimes God refuses to move the mountain that is in your way because that mountain is in HIS plan…not yours. My biggest mountain was losing Mr. Virgo. God knew that could shake my faith. So he let me see something. He let me see the essence of my husband’s spirit as it left his body. I was forever changed. Not only by the loss itself, but by the certainty that we go someplace else when we die, we are not alone and there is a power far greater than me at work in the world. That power…to me…is God. I will not understand the whys until I get where I am going…but I know the WHO.

This has been a difficult year so far. There has been so much loss in the world. So many unmovable mountains. When I face these times, I find leaning into God and trusting him is the only way to get through it.

He CAN move mountains. And…sometimes he chooses not to. It is the pure essence of faith when you can still believe in God when you have trouble seeing the evidence of his existence.

My HOPE is in him…even when he doesn’t answer.

MercyMe - Even If You Don’t https://youtu.be/B6fA35Ved-Y

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:1‬ ‭KJV‬‬

My Funny Valentine

Wed, 14 Feb 2018 02:30:46 -0600

“My Funny Valentine”

You know this day will come. Well…you certainly hope it does. Mr. Virgo didn’t get this far. He died at sixty-two. Mr. FixIt brought my mail home from town yesterday. I was browsing through it when I noticed an envelope from the Department of Health and Human Services. I thought it was just an advertisement but when I opened it…it was my Medicare Card.

Wow.

I had a rush of feelings. I felt…o-l-d. For about two minutes. What else? Sad…for a minute. I didn’t think sixty-five years would go by so fast. Humbled? Check. Grown up? Yeah, ok. Grateful? Definitely. Relieved? Oh, yes! My insurance costs will go down greatly. It took a few minutes till I worked my way through to the money, but once I got there, I was fine.

What a privilege it is to get to this point in my life. I’m alive and healthy. I know…Mr. Virgo is gone. And the wife of one of my dear classmates has been seriously ill and in the hospital for the last six weeks. Mr. FixIt’s cousin had a massive stroke on Sunday. I have every blessing I could ask for. I have no business feeling bummed because I’m going to be sixty-five this summer.

So, I’ve reached a major landmark in my life…a benchmark, as it were. I’m happy. I’m proud. I’m excited to see what comes next!

What an amazing Valentine, eh?!?! It can’t beat the pink roses, chocolates, and sweet card Mr. FixIt gave me…but it’s a close second! ❤

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭46:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Word Power

Mon, 12 Feb 2018 02:30:29 -0600

Word Power

When I was a teenager, my mother always told me my mouth would get me in trouble. I’ve spent a lifetime speaking when I should have remained silent. I say the wrong things at the wrong times. I let my anger lead my speech far, far too often. I am a work in progress. I know what I am supposed to do. We all do, right? But even God knew we could never tame our tongues…not completely.

Speech has such power. We can build up. We can tear down. Pastor Justin spoke of this power in church yesterday in a sermon entitled “Speech Therapy”. A clever use of the term. We need speech therapy. Not to pronounce the words, but to help us choose wisely. Our pastor had cutouts to demonstrate those we meet on a daily basis. The one who talks “crap” all the time. The one who whines and cries about everything. The vampire who sucks the life out of you. The angry yelper who shouts and charges about like a bull in a china shop. He also used some popular iconic figures like Dr. Phil, Joel Osteen, and Donald Trump to illustrate the power of words.

Dr. Phil is a good guy, offers sound advice, but not the one to look to for divine direction. Joel Osteen…the one who builds you up, always smiling, always positive. We can use more people in the world like Dr. Phil and Joel Osteen…they build up.

When he held up President Trump, I was a little worried where that might go. I’ve listened to politics being preached from the pulpit and I don’t like it. I loved the direction Pastor Justin took it, though. Love him. Hate him. There’s both of you out there. That’s not what this is about. What this is about is the power of the word. And using words to divide and cause conflict is counterproductive. We cannot control another person, but we can pray for them. I pray for our President to use discretion when he chooses words. I pray he decides to leave Twitter alone. I pray for his wisdom and discernment and good judgement. I have my opinions and beliefs about him but they are personal. I pray God blesses his tongue.

Praying for wisdom in our leaders and peace for our world is one thing I can do every day. Because my words have power. And if I speak with angry rhetoric, I am giving the enemy a foothold in my world. The enemy only has the power I give him. Using my words to express my desires to my legislators is another thing I can do. So, I keep trying my best. I try to watch my words and choose them carefully. I try not to cuss like a sailor but fail more than I like. Like I said, I’m a work in progress. I’m human. ❤️

“but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?” ‭‭James‬ ‭3:8-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Colorado Memories

Fri, 09 Feb 2018 02:30:55 -0600

“House in the Colorado Snow”

I lived in Colorado for two-thirds of my adult life. I have always considered West Virginia to be “home”, but this sweet little house was a pretty close second. I bought it when my second marriage ended in divorce. It was the first home I ever owned on my own.

Being a home owner is such a mixed bag. There’s the tax deduction for the mortgage interest. That’s a plus. There’s the mortgage itself… unless you are greatly blessed to not have one. That’s not so great if it strains your budget. There’s the comfort and security of a roof over your head. That’s a plus. There’s the maintenance and repairs that, in my case, were becoming quite costly. That’s difficult to plan for. There’s that wonderful covered front porch and meticulously manicured lawn, trees, shrubs, and flowers. That was truly my favorite part of living in this house. But the water bill alone could be $400 in the peak of summer irrigation, not to mention the high heating costs in the winter. Throw in mowing and shoveling snow all by my self along with memories of Mr. Virgo around every corner and I was done. Totally overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

Looking back, I often wonder if I would have done anything differently if I were facing these decisions with today’s brain as opposed to grief brain. I came very close to backing out of the sales contract and renting the house out till I could be more certain this was what I really wanted to do. When I mentioned it to my real estate agent, she was horrified and exclaimed, “Oh no….you don’t want to do THAT!” In my confused state, I acquiesced and continued down the path of selling.

Sales on my side of the Rockies had gone soft, just as the prices in the Denver Metro area had skyrocketed…leaving me priced out of the real estate market entirely. I had to change course. At the same time, my aunt needed help on the farm in West Virginia, so my fate was sealed. I bought the bigger camper and move here.

Everything happened just as it was supposed to. If I would have stayed in my house, I would not have run into Mr. FixIt. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything. I know I did the right thing. I still look at this house with mixed feelings though. I suppose I always will. It was where I shared my life with Mr. Virgo. He is gone…and so is the house that held us.

New life, new love, new beginnings. This is a beautiful life I’ve built without all the encumbrances a house with a mortgage entails. And…there are two to carry the load now. Thank you, God! ❤

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭4:9-10‬ ‭NIV11‬‬

When Things Get Scary

Thu, 08 Feb 2018 02:30:37 -0600

“Stock Market”

Disclaimer: I do not give financial advice. This essay only expresses my feelings.

Personal wealth is a matter of comparison. If you compare my financial picture to a goat herder in the Sahara Desert, I am a multimillionaire. If you compare me to a member of the Fortune 500, I am poor as a church mouse. It’s all relative. But what I do have, I want to protect and watch over carefully.

I have spent my whole life deferring all this nasty talk of money to the man in my life. Not because I am incapable of understanding the intricacies of a budget, but because any marital discord I have ever experienced in my life has had something to do with money. Usually with him making it and me spending too much of it. My parents fought over money constantly. Frankly, money…or the lack thereof…scared the heck out of me. So, I avoided talking about it.

Then, Mr. Virgo up and died on me and left me to learn a lifetime of money management skills I simply did not possess. The first thing I did the week after the funeral was to switch to a financial advisor who specializes in women in transition…ie widows or divorcees. Danielle Howard was recommended to me by a fellow widow friend who was kind enough to help me set up and meet with her for the first time.

Danielle offers two lanes in her financial planning…secular and Christian. I was intrigued. The Christian approach teaches you to be a good steward of what God has provided for you. That’s the route I went with. I met with Danielle frequently at first because there was so much to learn. I wasn’t confident in my decision making skills at all. Danielle was patient, understanding, and nonjudgmental when I made SO many mistakes in the first two or three years after Mr. Virgo died.

I was told, “Watch your money.” “Don’t make any big financial decisions in the first year.” “Resist the urge to be overly generous.” But did I listen? Not very well. I tried to fill that hole in my heart with travel and shopping and generosity. Then I woke up and realized, I had to be MUCH more careful or I was going to run out of money.

The Stock Market is probably the singularly scariest entity in my life. I am convinced it is the Devil’s spawn. This last year has been wonderful because I could breathe and not worry about losing what little bit of money I have invested. It’s been a banner year for stocks. Then…the “Big Bang” hit late last week and early this week. When the market fell 1500 points on Monday, I panicked. I called Danielle and left a voice mail telling her I was totally freaking out and could she kindly call me back as soon as possible.

Then I fixed a cup of tea. I mean, what else could I do, right? Tea…and wait. Visions of selling pencils from a cup on the street corner started to float in front of me and my heart raced. Crazy…I know. But that’s what money does to me. Then I remembered all those meetings with Danielle at the Bluebird Cafe where we sat over coffee and she taught me about money.

“What would Danielle do?” I thought to myself.

I could almost hear her voice. “Knowledge is power.”

I went to the internet and started reading some of the reputable financial news sites to get their take on the biggest drop ever. I soothed myself with articles about market corrections and stabilization. How these things are expected and actually good for the market in the long run. The takeaway I got was…breathe. Don’t pull out. Just hold steady and ride the waves.

I’m pretty good at riding waves.

By the time Danielle called, I was feeling much more in control. I told her about going online and educating myself as to what was going on and what it meant. And I felt so empowered when she said, “Way to go! That’s really great that you took a proactive stance and learned all you could so you could make informed decisions.” I know it sounds so silly, but that was HUGE for me. I felt so…grown up and more in control.

This last year has been really interesting for me. Since downsizing and living a minimalistic lifestyle, I have found my spending to be under much better control. I’ve become more frugal, careful. I don’t NEED anything, really. If I accumulate, I have to go through downsizing. I really don’t ever want to do that again.

Widowhood and divorce can often leave us in dire straights. Knowledge really IS power so learn all you can about money and budgeting. And remember, dealing with corrections in the Stock Market is exactly like skiing in deep powder. You have to kick back and rest on the tails of your skis. If you lean too far forward, you’ll take a tumble.

Oh…and pray. Pray a LOT! ❤

“Why should fools have money in hand to buy wisdom, when they are not able to understand it?” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I Am Enough

Wed, 07 Feb 2018 02:30:52 -0600

“I Am Enough”

A friend of mine posts these really great inspirational messages on her Facebook page. She comes up with original questions, collections of photos surrounding a theme, and generally spreads love and light throughout the world…with an occasional “f-bomb” thrown in for emphasis. Her name is Barbara. I think she should write a book or have a syndicated newsletter or something because I never see her stuff without feeling uplifted and in awe. I love her.

Yesterday she posted the following question:

WHO ARE YOU? Answer without: Name, Job, Things you Did, Friends

As I always do with her thought provoking posts…I sat and thought. I made a cup of tea. I stared out the window. I listened to a recording of ocean waves. And…I sat and thought some more. I could answer many things. Christian. Gypsy. Dreamer. Giver. Lover. Friend. But those things only answer a part of the question with those parameters. I decided on this…

I Am Enough.

When this picture was taken, I was visiting my dear friend, Patti from Buffalo Baking Company in California. I had just completed a few of my big “firsts”. My first foray into the world of dating. HUGE mistake on the dating end. BIG help on the “having a shoulder to cry on” end. It didn’t turn out very well for either of us, unfortunately. Too much…WAY too soon. I had survived our anniversary, our birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. And I headed to the west coast to stay with a woman I had never met in person…I only knew her through this blog. But I knew her heart and she is good and she loved on me for a week.

I had it in my head that once the clock struck midnight and 2013 turned into 2014, I could say…”He died LAST YEAR”. Somehow I thought that would sweep up the wreckage of my life from the floor where it fell eight months earlier. It would be the glue to piece my heart back together. On this day…New Year’s Day 2014…we drove to Half Moon Bay play tourist. We walked the beach, browsed the shops, ate fabulous seafood, and enjoyed each other’s company.

When we got to the beach, I asked if I could have a moment alone. I walked to the water’s edge and talked to Mr. Virgo. I told him how much I loved him. I let a little piece of him go free. I placed a few strands of his hair into the foam around my freezing bare feet. And I cried. As I was walking back to Patti and her husband, I saw she had her camera poised and I threw up my hands as if to say, “Ta Da!!! That’s done!!!”

Oh…I was SO naive.

I only THOUGHT I was done. I thought the New Year would bring a new me…sans tears, anxiety, sleepless nights throwing up, fits of rage and depression, and deep melancholia. It was far from it. It only opened my eyes to the stark reality that this really WAS real. He really WAS gone. And now, I got the opportunity to feel it all without that protective gauze of grief sheltering my weary heart and mind from the full blow. Now I was raw, open, searing with the painful presence of daily life…without him. Without my heart. Without my mind. At least as I had known it.

That second year was exactly like holding a sword into the white hot heat of a forge. It tempered me. It made me stronger so that when I was beaten, I held my edge. I became sharp and strong. I was honed into a new version of me.

When you look at the edge of a well-honed sword, you do not see a sharp, straight line. You see little bits and fragments and fingers of metal that have been forced to line up in the same direction. But there are chips and divots and feathers of steel lining up like soldiers marching in formation. Yet, zoom back out and you can cut a watermelon in midair with one easy stroke.

When you hone a sword, there is a stopping point. There is a place where you say…that is enough. If you keep going, the blade doesn’t get any sharper. It just wears away. This is where I am on this journey now. If I keep grinding away at this, I just get worn till I’m useless. There was that tipping point somewhere along the line where I said to myself…I Am Enough. This is good…this life I have built. I have surrounded myself with love and light. God, in his infinite Mercy, has given me more hearts to love and more time to love them. If my edge should dull…and it will…I will put my feet to the flame again and get strong and sharp. Over and over and over…ad infinitum. It is what we do. It is the best we can do. It is ALL we can do. Do the work. Walk through the flames. Become stronger. And proclaim to the world…

I. Am. Enough. And, my darling friend…you are, too!

❤️

“being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:6‬ ‭NIV11‬‬

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

The McKinney Grief Scale

Tue, 30 Jan 2018 02:30:44 -0600

“Elk in Colorado” by Ginny McKinney

It’s that time of year again where Facebook is kindly sharing the memories of things that occurred in the weeks leading up to Mr. Virgo’s death. This is a wonderful feature, really. It reminds us of things that happened in the past. Birthday parties, the birth of new family members, that dinner party you had to celebrate something special. Those memories come in and give us warm fuzzies. But what about the memories leading up to a tragic loss? They can be so painful…especially early in the grief process. Even now…leading up to the fifth angelversary of my late husband’s death, these memories take me back to that innocent time before I knew what death REALLY was.

It’s not like I would change this. I wouldn’t want these memories to go away. I’d just like to have them come in a little gift box that I could open should I choose to see the contents. I remember the week of his first angelversary. Ironically, it was right around the time they started this memory thing. It took my breath away and knocked me to my knees. For the most part, five years and a new relationship have eased that. It’ll never take it away completely, though. Grief doesn’t work that way. Grief is sneaky. There comes a time when it seems to leave you alone for a bit. It walks around disguised…camouflaged. Then something like a Facebook memory, or a familiar aroma, or the way the sun slants through the window, or the smell of coffee brewing…grief walks up to you, stares you in the face, pokes you in the chest like a schoolyard bully and yells, “Hey!!! Remember me???”

Now, it seems, there is a two-toned scale of grief-tinged memories…0-10 on the dark scale (D), 0-10 on the light scale (L). I have dubbed it the “McKinney Grief Scale”. Early memories were high on the dark scale and low on the light. Particularly poignant memories may still lean towards an elevated dark scale with a modicum of light poured in. With the distance of five years, almost all memories are high on the light scale with occasional spikes in the dark.

This particular memory is a D3L8. We were in the early stages of a heavy snowstorm and Mr. Virgo was home for the day. We had no place to go. We spent the day watching TV, talking, cooking, maybe we snuggled on the couch and watched a movie or napped in each other’s arms. I remember going to the kitchen for something and looking out the sliding glass doors. Here were these beautiful elk in our backyard. I grabbed my phone and snapped this picture. I loved the elk in our area. Our subdivision had been a ranch for a hundred years before it was subdivided and houses were built. We encroached on the elk habitat and eventually drove them out. Still, once in a while some would wander through and you’d get a glimpse.

Yes, a solid D3L8. A little dark, a good amount of light. That’s where I sit a lot these days leading up to Number 5. ❤️

“Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭112:6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Boundaries

Mon, 29 Jan 2018 02:30:54 -0600

“Boundaries” by Ginny McKinney

Something I knew nothing about growing up. There were no boundaries save for one. Don’t rock the boat. Ahhh…the walking on egg shells that comes with being the child of an alcoholic. We learn at an early age to dodge bullets. But boundaries? We either didn’t have many…or I didn’t understand the concept. I didn’t know for the longest time where other people ended and I began. I lived my life in a sort of parasitic relationship with my “hosts”…much like Spanish Moss and Mistletoe. My insecurities made it difficult for me to express my own opinions. I was a chameleon…I changed with the whims of my beneficiary…whomever it should be.

I’d love to say I out grew that in my late teens, early twenties like most people, but I did not. I really only broke free from the bondage of self loathing after Mr. Virgo came into my world and convinced me of my worth. Still, boundaries were a challenge. I didn’t exercise enough boundaries with my children. I didn’t exercise boundaries with friends and relationships. And I certainly didn’t practice boundaries with myself.

As I continue to grow in my faith walk, I learn more and more about boundaries. Pastor Justin presented an excellent series this month about fixing ourselves up…just like flipping a house. First, you make sure you have a good, solid foundation. Then you give the very best of yourself. Then you get your head right. You get rid of the stinkin’ thinkin’ of the days before you were saved. Change your mind…Change your life. All these things are foundational, and well heeded. But you have to protect your progress, Pastor Justin says…by setting up boundaries. You can’t let the enemy get a foothold in this life of yours. I have been known to cuss like a sailor. I’m doing MUCH better…but I still slip.

This is what I was referring to the other day…we are what we eat. Not literally. We aren’t broccoli and cauliflower. But what we allow to come into us, gets expressed by us into the world. Mr. FixIt and I are a team. We have to set up our perimeter to keep the enemy from infiltrating our ranks…to keep him from trying to divide and conquer. We have to work as a team and to do that, we give each other gentle reminders to shore up that boundary…that little leak in our boat. Because little leaks become big leaks and we’ll drown before we get to shore if we aren’t ever vigilant.

Does this mean we can’t relax and kick back and enjoy life? Not at all. But it does mean we have an accountability partner in the other and we must always bring our best to the table. And we keep our perimeter wall strong and our foundation deep. Because we keep God at the top of the triangle. As we strive towards Him…we inevitably become closer. It is our recipe for success.

It’s #MondayMotivation…time to do our spring cleaning and put our house in order. ❤️

“Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure,” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:5-9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Is The Day The Lord Hath Made

Sun, 28 Jan 2018 02:30:20 -0600

Praise

Let us celebrate and be GLAD in it! It is so easy to celebrate and be glad in the day when all is right in your world, isn’t it? I mean, we want God’s blessings, right? We are happy in our blessings and we (hopefully) thank God for providing for us. It’s a different story when things aren’t going well. It is SO hard to celebrate and be glad when your world is falling apart. I don’t think God is asking you to go out in the streets and celebrate with singing and dancing if you are sincerely in the throes of pain. We can still celebrate the fact we have a loving Father who is going to use our pain for good in some way. He is working in the background, far beyond our understanding, twisting and turning events to bring you favor. We can still be glad in the day he has made, even if we can’t drag ourselves out of bed to enjoy it. I’ve been there. I know what mattress surfing is like. And I still rejoiced that I had someone who loved me more than I could ever imagine.

Bringing joy into the world isn’t always easy, but the more you try, the more you succeed, and the more you succeed, the more joy you have to give. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving. When I see joy in someone, I stop them and recognize it in them. We are here to love and encourage one another. When you let someone know that you SEE their efforts, your encouragement causes them to grow and expand. It’s an amazing gift you give them…and give yourself.

I ran across this video last night and I just had to share with you. Here’s a little girl with more joy than she can possibly contain. Here’s a future worship leader! A future teacher! A future politician! A future doctor! She has the whole world ahead of her and plenty of joy to share. This is the day the Lord hath made…let us rejoice and be glad in it! Go out there and make it a great day today!!! ❤️

youtu.be/3QivliBtp…

“This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭118:24‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Playing with Art

Sat, 27 Jan 2018 02:30:23 -0600

I have loved art since I could hold those fat crayons in my chubby toddler fingers. I loved school because, not only did I learn the secret to time travel was reading, I also learned the secret to inner peace was making art.

I was fortunate to have wonderful art teachers in school though I can’t name one. I loved working in pastels. I struggled the most with watercolor. My favorite thing is drawing. Pencils, pen and ink, charcoal, pastels, colored pencils. I love the feel of the paper and how the medium lays in the fibers.

My dad was a talented artist. He gave it up when he had to raise a family. After he died, I found several of his drawings. I wish I knew then what I know now. My conversations with my dad would have ultimately been much deeper. And now he’s gone. It’s too late to ask him what art meant to him.

I remember my mom sent me to a local artist for lessons. Again…if I’d have been more mature and responsible, I might have learned more. I think most of what I’ve done has been self taught…a sort of chemistry lesson on paper.

I have a friend from high school that has the same iPad, Pencil and app as me. We are meeting today for coffee. I’ve been studying the Procreate guide and we hope to help walk each other through the learning curve. She is a beautiful artist and I am looking forward to learning more from her. This picture shows my progress on this particular drawing over the last four weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens with practice. Grandma Moses was a lot older than me when she started! ❤️

“He has filled them with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers—all of them skilled workers and designers.” ‭‭Exodus‬ ‭35:35‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Do You Hear That?

Fri, 26 Jan 2018 02:30:24 -0600

When I first moved to West Virginia in October 2014, I was living in my camper out on the farm. Shortly after my arrival, I began to notice a low humming sound every night when I went to bed. At first, I thought perhaps something was wrong with some mechanism in the camper itself. Then I thought perhaps the furnace in the house was so loud I was hearing it. I ruled both theories out when I discovered it was continuous, not cyclical.

The sound was similar to a prop plane running its engines about a half mile away. Or a diesel tractor trailer idling down the road. I asked my aunt and she gave me that “you’re kooky” look I always got when I said something…ok, well, pretty much whenever I spoke to her. She didn’t hear anything, she said. “It’s all in your head.”

I may have believed that because I do have tinnitus…that high pitched whine I have from too many rock concerts and running machinery without hearing protection. This wasn’t high pitched though. It was low, droning, monotonous, maddening. When I learned they were doing deep drilling on the hill about two ridges over from the farm, I thought that was my answer. But I heard it other places as well. So that wasn’t it.

I didn’t notice it so much when I lived up at the river. There was river and train traffic and highways on both the West Virginia and the Ohio side. And, I didn’t hear it in Colorado. Just here. In the country. I don’t remember ever hearing it growing up. After a while, I became pretty accustomed to it. If I did notice it bothering me, there is an app on my iPad that plays white noise or nature sounds and I just turned it on and drowned it out. I do sleep with earplugs but that’s really only good for higher frequency sound. They only served to dampen the ambient noise and accentuate the low pitched frequencies.

A few months ago, Mr. FixIt was reading beside me and I put my iPad down and said, “Do you hear that???” He said, “Yeah…that low pitched humming noise? What IS that???” Finally!!! Corroboration! We searched the house. We went outside. We could not identify a source. It bugged us to no end. It seems to be louder on some nights than on others. Sometimes I don’t notice it. Last night it sounded like a plane getting ready for takeoff on the pool deck out back. Oy!

I finally turned to the internet for an answer and came up with this article.

http://www.independent.co.uk/environment/nature/have-you-heard-the-hum-mystery-of-earths-low-droning-noise-could-now-be-solved-10182111.html

Apparently, this is a phenomenon that has plagued certain people who can hear this low droning noise and others can’t. I’m glad to know there is some explanation for it. We are hearing the earth…vibrating. It gives me some comfort to know I am not alone and I’m not crazy, but it’s still pretty maddening. How about you all? Do you hear “the hum” where you are? ❤️

“when the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; when people rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint;” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭12:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It Seems Like Forever

Wed, 24 Jan 2018 02:30:58 -0600

“Three Apples”

Yesterday was International Pie Day. Ooooooh…that one blew right by me till we were watching the news last night (yes, I actually watched the news but just this once. I was updating my computer and got caught by surprise. sigh) There was one of those inevitable human interest stories that told us about the annual celebration of my all time favorite dessert…PIE! I used to bake competitively and was known as The Pie Queen in my little valley in Colorado. Those were the halcyon days of my youth, teaching people the intricacies of a proper pie crust. These days, Mr. Pillsbury and I make our pies with that fabulous ready made crust that you unroll, fill and bake. Voila! Instant dessert!

“All the Fixins”

Mr. FixIt and I looked at each other. It was 6:00. Still time for pie! I rummaged around in the fridge and found three apples. I still had two rolls of crust left over from the last dinner party we had. Cored, peeled, sliced, with half a lemon squeezed over it…added a couple tablespoons of that wonderful Splenda Brown Sugar blend, three tablespoons of flour, a few good shakes of apple pie spice and a tiny splash of vanilla…and mixed it well. I poured that in the bottom crust, dotted it with a couple teaspoons of butter, topped it with the second crust, slit the top and crimped the edges together. Baked at 375 for about 50 minutes and yummmmmmm…I love apple pie!

“In the Oven”

As we were enjoying dessert, my plan was to head to the back of the house to write my post as I usually do. But Mr. FixIt was scanning through the shows he had recorded on the DVR. “The Story of God by Morgan Freeman?” he asked. Oh…yes please. How can you go wrong with God AND Morgan Freeman, right? I have always been fascinated with religions and the faith of all people. There were some things in the show that didn’t mesh with my interpretation of my faith, but it’s a very personal thing to each individual. I really enjoyed his interviews. We watched three episodes and saved the other two for tonight. I don’t mind watching TV as much if it’s something educational, or a singing competition, or has Morgan Freeman in it!

“Apple Pie”

In the first episode, the subject of life after death was discussed and what different faiths believe happens to us when we die. Christians live with the belief we will see our loved ones again in Heaven. I don’t know that it lessens the sting of loss, but eventually it was something that offered me some comfort. I think the idea that my loved ones got to see Jesus already is what gives me the most comfort. And…that brings me to the significance of today.

“Wanda Belle”

Today is my mom’s angelversary. She has been gone fourteen years. I miss her as much now as I did the day she left us so unexpectedly. I was frustrated with her that week. She wasn’t well. Her breathing was rapid. I did not know that she hadn’t eaten or drank anything for five days. I have kicked myself a million times for not calling an ambulance myself to take her to the hospital but she refused to go. I was living in Colorado. She was here in West Virginia. I can hide behind the excuse “there was nothing I could do”, but I should have. I should have just called and dealt with her being upset with me. I was mad at her because she refused to come to Colorado where there was excellent health care. I vented my frustration in the very last phone call I had with her. In the middle of the conversation, as I felt my temper start to rise, the Holy Spirit took hold of me and literally shook me. “Wake up! Wake up! This could be your last conversation!” And, it was. I am SO grateful for that I controlled my tongue for once. I told her I understood why she couldn’t come to Colorado. I understood why she didn’t want to leave her home. I mean…I didn’t at the time. But I told her that. And I told her how much I dearly loved her. I told her to just focus on getting well, that I would take care of everything. I told her I would be on a plane the next day and would be there by nightfall. She told me I couldn’t imagine what that meant to her…telling her I understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with me or that she didn’t think I knew what I was talking about. She was just tired. Sick and tired. More sick and tired than she admitted to me, or I might have been more forceful. As it was, she was gone by 4:00 the next morning.

I’ve forgiven myself for failing to make the call. I’ve forgiven myself for speaking to her in harsh tones. It’s been a long time since I shed tears for my mom, but I did as I wrote this post. My only consolation is she knew I loved her…and we will meet again someday. Until then…oh, I miss my mom. ❤️

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

January Walkabout

Tue, 23 Jan 2018 02:30:47 -0600

Although I am at the farm quite often, I only do a real walkabout once every month or two. I check the outbuildings for damage, do a quick inventory of the chores that need doing, watch for trees than need felled before they come down where I don’t want them, and get a feel for the land in every season. That way I am more aware when things look out of the ordinary and I can fix them right away. I’ve noticed the old tool shed has tipped more toward the barn so this summer I’m going to have to get down under the back corner with a hydraulic jack to even it up. The yard is yet again full of mole hills. I need to spread something to kill the cutworms they feed on and that will send them on to greener pastures. I need to get ahead of the poison ivy in the spring. It’s easy to spot the vines when the leaves are off. The vines are “hairy” and often grow up the sides of buildings and other trees.

Yesterday, Boy Cat accompanied me as I meandered about the lower land around the farmhouse. His soft mewing and purring let me know he was glad to see me, even though he rarely comes close to me. I am nothing more than his Food God…”The One Who Opens the Can”. He is very sweet and I’m always grateful nothing has gotten him in the surrounding woods where he hunts. I still mourn for Old Mama Kitty. The sad thing about losing farm cats…there is seldom “closure”. Kitty Boy, the youngster, has grown into a sturdy, sleek, shorthaired version of Boy Cat. He is as aloof as ever and will not be on the porch at the same time as me. He will sit still and look at me if I stand in the kitchen and look out the back door. Nothing I have ever done has won him over…he is truly a wild boy.

The hydrangea is heavy with dried flower clusters…some as big as luncheon plates. The tubs that caught rain at the corners of the house got caught in the freeze and unfortunately have burst their seams. I want to get a couple plastic fifty-five gallon drums to catch the rainwater. Here in West Virginia, you can have cisterns to filter and store rainwater for washing, cooking, and drinking if you boil it. In Colorado, it is against the law to catch rain because we do not own that water. It has been sold to drier climates downstream. They are dead serious about it, too. I noticed several honeybees in my bird feeder yesterday. The weather is warming up and they are browsing for something to eat. I’ll look up what to put out for them and do that the next time I’m at the farm.

Hopefully the weather will cooperate and we can spend the weekend out there. Mr. Fixit built a dam in the stairwell going to the basement to keep the water from flooding in like it did week before last. We are due for some heavy rains in the next few days and we need to make sure that protects the basement before we leave for any length of time. Ahhh, the downside of country living…there is always something needing built, rebuilt, repaired or torn down.

Oh….and an update on the snowy owl. The rescue folks got his weight up and his wing healed nicely. They took him north to the south shore of Lake Erie over the weekend and released him back into the wild. They posted a slow motion video of him taking flight and heading off into the distance. It was a beautiful thing. He was a magnificent creature and there is every hope he will thrive as they released him in the southernmost region of his winter territory. Several other snowy owls were reported in the region so he should do well.

That’s all from West Virginia today. I hope you all are well and maybe enjoying a little “spring-like weather” before the next cold snap. It was in the mid-60’s yesterday. I’ll take that any day of the week over the frigid temps we faced at the first of the year. ❤️

“Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.”” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭13:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

In the Beginning

Mon, 22 Jan 2018 02:30:44 -0600

Marshmallow Ranch actually started in 2001. I was separated from Hubby #2 the year before. I had worked in medicine before becoming a stay-at-home mom in 1986. Unfortunately, since my soon-to-be ex was a doctor in the community, it was a decidedly uncomfortable environment in which to seek employment. I found myself struggling to find a new career in our small, mountain community. I worked for about a year filling in at the local downtown shops…working one day a week at each of five stores, giving the shop owners a welcome day off. I found I enjoyed the interaction with the customers and I was very good at merchandising. My ex noticed this and proposed I open a shop of my own and he would help me get started.

One of my favorite pastimes in those days was needlework. I belonged to the Embroiderer’s Guild that met once a month. I also belonged to a quilting guild. But my favorite was our weekly “Stitch and B****” held at my friend Judy’s house. We brought whatever project we were working on and sat around with coffee and pastries and got all the support we needed for whatever issue we were facing as young mothers. When I started thinking about what kind of shop I wanted to open, I asked the girls and they unanimously chimed in. “A needlework supply shop!”

I really wanted my store on the main street through town for the foot traffic. Unfortunately, the rents there were out of my budget so I went two streets east. I was across the street from the Hotel Denver and catty corner from the Amtrak Station. The building was one of the oldest in town. It had been the St. James Inn at one time with a shady history of being one of the brothels in the early days when most of downtown consisted of tents and mud. When coming up with a name, I thought of Cat House Cross Stitch, but thought better of it. I finally settled on Needles & Pins. The owners of the building did a major remodel with my shop in mind. When it was complete, it was lovely. Old hardwood floors were brought back to life. Salvaged brick lined one wall. A large table was in the back room. Every Wednesday, women gathered at my shop for our own version of “Stitch and B****”. From the moment I opened the doors to closing time, the shop rang with the laughter of women sharing stories and solving the problems of the world. I lost my shirt…twice…but it was wonderful therapy for a lot of women, including myself. It’s when I first found my footing on my own again.

If you are a cross-stitcher, you are familiar with cute publishing houses like “Birds of a Feather”, “Mosey & Me”, “Blackbird Designs” and “The Prairie Schooler”. Being an artist, I thought I would try my hand at designing some cross-stitch patterns. I wanted to come up with a cute name for the division of my business. As I was going through a box of things in my art studio one day, I came across the picture of a field in West Virginia with large, round bales of hay wrapped in white plastic. They looked all the world like huge marshmallows. I had taken the photo on a trip a few years earlier. My youngest had asked what those things were and her big sister teased her telling her this was a marshmallow ranch. This was where they grew big marshmallows then cut them up in little pieces, put them in bags and sent them to the stores. Marshmallow Ranch! The perfect name for my tiny little art division of Needles & Pins.

Unfortunately, the shop wasn’t open long enough for my ideas to come to fruition. I did design three or four patterns and had samples stitched, but never got them published. This is the most detailed of my designs. I called it “Three Sheep”. Maybe someday I’ll get around to developing that idea again. Designing cross-stitch patterns isn’t as easy as it looks. Even with my interest in art, I’m not a very good judge of color. I found this picture on my new computer when the photos were delivered from the cloud and thought I’d share it with you. It’s been thirteen years since I closed the second incarnation of my little needlework shop. It was a difficult time in my life, but one that shaped the path of who I have become. It’s something I am proud of in retrospect. ❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When Your Body Speaks...Listen

Sun, 21 Jan 2018 02:30:15 -0600

I had a huge day planned yesterday. I was really looking forward to gathering with two different groups of friends. I awoke sometime before dawn and my body just said, “Nope. Not today. Go back to sleep.” In the past, I might have forced myself up and made myself go. Since losing Mr. Virgo, I’ve learned to listen more to my body when it speaks to me.

Grief not only causes things like “grief brain” which was illustrated in the article I shared with you the other night. Several health ailments can be attributed to grief and the resultant stress it causes. High levels of cortisol…the “fight or flight” hormone…can cause everything from high blood pressure to heart disease to depression to substance abuse. It also affects your immune system and you tend to get sick easier and things last longer. There isn’t an expiration date on grief either. You may not be actively grieving, but you can still suffer from the repercussions.

Yesterday it was tummy trouble. Easy enough to fix with rest, fluids and over the counter medications. I have to be extra careful with things like gluten and fats now. I didn’t have to do that before Mr. Virgo died. Another thing that came my way was an autoimmune response to grief and I developed plantar-palmar psoriasis. I doctored that with steroids and every psoriasis cream known to man. I tried folk remedies and old wive’s tales. Nothing touched it till last year when I started using doTerra’s LifePak vitamins and CBD (canabidiol) ointment. It’s pretty well controlled now with occasional applications and I take a small dose of the vitamins every other day or so.

Nothing is the same after a profound loss. For a long time, I grieved not only for Mr. Virgo…but also for the ME that I lost in the process of grieving. When I finally let go of trying to recreate my life the way it was before, I began to embrace the life I was building. It’s much, much better but the physical things still creep up on me from time to time. I still find them frustrating, even though I am much better at listening to my body now. When it says, “Go back to sleep”…unless I have something that I absolutely HAVE to do…I listen. I texted my friends and told them I was going to have to bow out because I didn’t feel well. They totally understood. There will be other opportunities to get together. And I spent the day reading. I haven’t spent the day reading in ages because for the longest time, my grief brain wouldn’t allow me to concentrate long enough to get through a book. It was lovely to be able to read…and comprehend what I was reading. Mr. Fixit watched college basketball and a couple of movies while I cuddled up on the couch and listened to recordings of campfires and thunderstorms.

Remember…self care is not selfish. It is necessary. If you are alone, you may have the freedom to practice self care any time, but not always. I am fortunate to have this wonderful man who understands and supports my need for self care on a regular basis. What a gift he is to me. ❤️

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:7-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Savor the Sweet

Sat, 20 Jan 2018 02:30:14 -0600

The first time I set foot in a trout stream, I was six years old. It was the summer before my life would be forever changed by the illicit touch of a stranger. The summer of 1960 found my family on its very first vacation. We traveled to the mountains of West Virginia and rented a small cabin for a week. I remember mom frying trout in an iron skillet. I remember my brother and I playing quietly in the shade of the many trees surrounding our camp. I remember my dad standing in the shallow middle, up to his knees, casting over and over with the flies he had meticulously tied at his workbench in the basement. And I remember the river. The North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac River, to be exact.

I didn’t have much experience with open bodies of water. Mom had instilled an unhealthy fear of water in me with stories of the time she saved her baby sister from drowning. She had no intention of ever having to save me, so I was banished from any water sports. And, it turns out…I’m a bit of a water baby. I remember one day in particular. Dad was out in his favorite fishing hole, patiently casting, and I stood at the river’s edge. I contemplated the ripples as they passed over the smooth river rocks. I gazed at the deep pools that changed to the color of emeralds where the sandy bottom lay two or three feet below. I delighted at the light dancing on the surface like a thousand diamonds and the trout flashing as they breached the surface to catch their next meal.

That was a simple and peaceful summer…the last I would know before my innocence was taken from me. But, that is not to say, I have never found moments that have recaptured that sense of awe and wonder. I have…many times. Yesterday was one of those days that delivered sweet things…one after another…till I was overflowing with the beauty and simplicity of it all.

I made my routine trip to the farm to see how the kitties are fairing. I checked the stove and the basement. I sat, as I always do, in the chair in “Grandma’s Window” and watched the birds at the feeder. I listened to the sounds of an old house…living and breathing…its bones creaking like the old woman that she is. I watched the pendulum in Mr. Virgo’s clock swing back and forth, reminding me I couldn’t stay too long. We had company coming.

I stopped at the neighbor’s for a bit and delivered a small gift of French Truffles. We passed the time, catching up on the news of the neighbors and I left with promises it wouldn’t be so long till my next visit. I turned the truck toward home. I checked the mail and found a pink slip…a package had come and would be waiting for me at the post office. Mr. FixIt offered to go pick it up as I put the groceries away. I no sooner sat down till our company arrived.

Mr. FixIt’s granddaughter and her family brought their baby to see Papaw and GG! I have inherited a whole passel of people in this relationship, including a son and his wife, a daughter and her man, three granddaughters (two of whom have significant others), a grandson and his girlfriend, and a great granddaughter. You know what that means, don’t you? I am a great grandmother! And…considering I am WAY too young to be one (smile)…I am GG. Great Grandma. Grandma Ginny. GG. It suits me. The baby is four months old and the most precious little thing. What a treat to hold and rock a little one again!

Before long, Mr. FixIt came back with my box. I couldn’t wait to open it. It was a special introductory gift box from my dear friend, and fellow Sister on the Fly, Michelle McMullen Cummings with her newly published book, The Reel Sisters! https://www.thereelsisters.com/product/the-reel-sisters-gift-box/ Now I have two books to read, one published and one unpublished with an invitation to write early praise for its release. Both written by strong women I admire and I can’t wait to get into them! The reminder of these sister friendships warmed my heart as rocked and sang a lullaby to the newest member of our immediate family. I thought…”I will teach you to fly, little sister” as I sniffed the top of her sweet, soft head.

I am enjoying getting to know and bond with Mr. FixIt’s family. As his granddaughter bundled up the baby and prepared to leave yesterday, she turned to me and said, “I like you. You make my grandpa very happy.” I like her, too. She reminds me a little of myself when I was her age. A young mother, in love with her baby, her life stretching before her like an endless summer. It filled me with a soft warmth. As I sat propped in our bed last night, typing away at the keyboard writing this post, that very happy Papaw came in with a small bowl of ice cream and a kiss on the top of my head. And I swear…my heart exploded with joy.

The sweet simplicity of a life lived with boundless joy. My God has delivered me far, far from the pain life can bring. For now. There will be pain again. There always is. This is life, after all. The difference is, I have this now. I am building my insurance policy. These stories are money in my emotional bank…stories to look back upon one day and remember the joy I felt on a cold January day in the sun. ❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Catching Up

Fri, 19 Jan 2018 02:30:51 -0600

One of the best ways to catch up with paperwork is to have peaceful surroundings. Mr. FixIt had a day of errands to do. I think he kinda wanted me to tag along with him yesterday, but I know us well…I would have ended up coming in at 9:30 last night and none of this work would have gotten done.

As soon as he left (with a big hug and kiss) I turned on praise music and cranked it up. I always need a little extra dose of Jesus when I am heading into a formidable task. Wading through many bags and boxes of papers and sorting them into some sort of organization that allows me to actually put my finger on things was the order of the day. With praise, and good coffee and French Truffles…I waded in with both feet and started making the first cuts. What was trash. What needed to be kept in which pile. I really, really hate paperwork! “Jesus is calling…” I can do this. “Do you thirst for a drink from the well…” I can do this. “The Father’s arms are open wide…” Oh, yes…I can definitely do this! “Bring your sorrows and trade them for joy…” YES…let’s DO this!!!

As I often do, I talk out loud to Jesus when I’m working. The conversation is never one-sided. He always speaks to me through the Holy Spirit and tells me everything I need to hear. First, he smacks my hand a little…”Keep up with this stuff better.” He chides gently. “You know what an ordeal it is when you put it off till the end of the year. It seems overwhelming. If it’s difficult to slog through…remember to talk with me while you’re working. It makes the time pass faster. And, I can help. I can help you put things into perspective. I can help you find lost papers. I can help you remember who you need to talk to about this and that. I can help you make important decisions. Just remember to include me…even in the most mundane of your daily activities.”

Then He goes on with his daily teaching. “Thank your Father for the gifts you receive. See all these papers? They are all articles of provision. That bank account? I gave you that gift to provide for your every need. Respect that. Balance every month…not because it’s a drudge, but because it’s an honor to see the abundance you have been provided with. The same goes for that insurance policy you have been complaining about because the price went up. Be grateful you HAVE insurance…and so far, you haven’t run out of money to pay for it. What about that accident last February? I know you have been dreading searching for all the papers you need to have in order to finish out that claim. Yes, that’s a pain…but, I made sure you weren’t terribly injured. And you received a much newer truck when yours was totaled. It was “a miracle” when you got that check that just almost covered the new truck, wasn’t it? It was Me…I made sure you have a safe, affordable vehicle. A little gratitude goes a long way, dear one.”

What blessings I have. I have a Father that provides for me. I have a loving family that supports and loves me. I have this tremendous man in my life who loves me and shares his home with me as if it has always been mine…he’s just been waiting for me to come along. I have my health. I have the farm. I have TOW-Wanda. I have a retirement. I have Social Security and health insurance and soon, I’ll have Medicare…that carrot at the end of the race that will help provide for me in my golden years. I have a house…TWO houses…THREE if you count TOW-Wanda…to shelter me from the storms of life. I have food and clean water and clothes. I am wealthy….beyond my wildest dreams. I am LOVED. What a lovely way to look at the mundane, dreary chore of sorting through paperwork. What a lovely way to look at the world. Thank you, God! “You’re a good, good Father…it’s who you are, it’s who you are…” ❤️

“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Tucking in with Tea

Thu, 18 Jan 2018 02:30:19 -0600

I love a hot cup of tea on a cold winter day. And, baby…it is c-o-l-d! It is nice to just stay in and get stuff done around the house. Catching up on correspondence. Going through stacks of paperwork and organizing. Tossing old magazines. All things that need to be done and can be accomplished when you’re stuck inside.

I’m reading my friend’s final draft of her book so I can write advanced praise. You’re going to love it…I’ve cried ten times! I can’t wait to share it with you.

In the meantime, I was doing a little research yesterday after reading some of your comments on my post. I do that often. I came across an article in Psychology Today that I loved. As I read it, tears stung my eyes and I thought…whoever wrote this really gets it! When I got to the bottom, I saw that it was written by someone I know! Susan Heitler, PhD…a Clinical Psychologist in Denver. Susan had a little office located by the back door to the suite I worked in when Hubby #2 was in medical school. She often ate her lunch at the front desk in her office…the door flung open wide as if to beckon passers by to come in for a visit. I often stopped on my way to and from the cafeteria. Sitting for a few moments with Susan was like breathing in sunshine. I always left feeling really good about myself. I would have loved to bottle some of that up and take it with me where ever I went in the years since I last saw her. Here’s the article I read: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/resolution-not-conflict/201202/psychological-diagnosis-dangerous-desirable-or-both

The last several days’ posts have been really heavy so I’m keeping today light on purpose. There is so much darkness in the world…we need a day of light once in a while. As I’m writing this, I’m listening to sounds of the woods. Water in a creek. Crickets. Tree frogs. Night birds. I miss those sounds. The woods are so quiet in the winter. The air seems dead as it is muted by the snow on the ground. It’s so cold my nose hairs freeze when I breathe in! Yet, I still have to sleep with the window cracked a bit. I have to have air. Mr. FixIt doesn’t like heavy blankets so I bought an electric blanket. It is the warmest thing I’ve ever had and not at all heavy. A good compromise.

I made Banana Nut muffins yesterday with blueberries in them. We went shopping at the department store that is closing and bought about $460 worth of clothes for $22…mostly for the great grandbaby! I’m researching how to make jewelry from broken china. I scheduled a camping trip for May. I caught a mouse in the attic. We watched a Reese Witherspoon movie. And I’m gathering the data I need to close out the paperwork from the car accident I was in last February. So far, it’s been a really good week! How about you? What are you doing to pass the time till spring? ❤️

“Fruit trees of all kinds will grow on both banks of the river. Their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail. Every month they will bear fruit, because the water from the sanctuary flows to them. Their fruit will serve for food and their leaves for healing.”” ‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭47:12‬ ‭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

On Being Loved

Tue, 16 Jan 2018 02:30:37 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I have developed this little routine the last few months. We have a nice dinner and clear up the dishes. We sit together for a while and talk or maybe watch a movie or an episode of Big Bang or MASH. When it’s time for a bedtime snack, I take mine into the bedroom at the far end of the house and write while my sweetie watches a ball game or the news and weather. It works out great and we both have that little bit of alone time everyone needs in a relationship. I’ve taken to listening to nature sounds on Amazon Music as I write so quite often, in my head, there’s a thunderstorm raging or ocean waves are gently lapping at the shore or birds are singing in a tropical rainforest. It’s so soothing and easy to write to.

My guy bowls on a couple of leagues and has for over thirty years. Bowling offered him the opportunity to socialize with fun people. He is gregarious, and bowling has been a great outlet for him. The other night he stopped at the store on the way home. He always calls me before he heads home because no matter where we are staying…his house or mine…it is a good forty minutes from town. He asks if I need anything. Usually, I don’t. He called me from the driveway the other night and asked me to open the door. He’s not supposed to carry anything in his bad hand yet. When I greeted him at the door, he handed me the groceries and I ducked in the kitchen with them. It was SO cold out there…I wanted away from the door as fast as I could. When I turned around to hug him, he handed me this bouquet of yellow roses.

I love yellow roses. I love great big bouquets of mixed flowers but all in white. I love a live orchid. Mr. Virgo used to bring me flowers. And now…I have this sweet love…this good, good man. And HE brings me flowers, too. Guys like Mr. Virgo and Mr. FixIt are a rare breed. My sweetheart told me the other day he wished we had started dating in high school so we could have had our whole lives together. I understand that thinking, and it’s sweet…really. But the thing is, we are the people we are right now simply BECAUSE of the life experiences we have been through. There is a really big chance we wouldn’t have gotten along in our early years. All of our experiences have been opportunities for personal growth. We came together when we did because it was GOD’S timing…not ours.

When we can move over and get out of the way, God does extraordinary things in our lives. “Let go and let God” isn’t just a pithy saying or a tired cliche from an AA meeting. It is straight outta the instruction manual for life…the Bible. Oh, we are such proud creatures. We want to have control. We want to steer the boat and make it go where WE want it. At any given moment, there is a preordained course designed specifically for us. God knows your name. He has plans to prosper you. God loves you more than anyone in the world. He loves you more than you can fathom. You can make it SO much easier if you put God in the driver’s seat. The easiest way to do that is ask. Just ask Him…first thing in the morning. “Where are you going to take me today, Lord?” Then get out of the way. Oh, my…could it really be that easy??? ❤️

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:3‬ ‭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

Sweet, Sweet Memories

Sun, 14 Jan 2018 02:30:05 -0600

I was fiddling around yesterday hooking up my new printer and computer when I received a text from an old friend. Cindy lived in the flat below me when Hubby #1 and I lived in England in the early ’70s. We’ve stayed in touch all these years and although we don’t get to see each other very often, we will always be close. We were young and so very far away from home and we became “family”.

To my surprise and utter delight, Cindy sent me several photos. Her ex was in England and had visited our little village. He sent her several pictures of the apartment building and the surrounding area. I have always wanted to go back and this was the next best thing. I’m not terribly surprised to see things look exactly as they did in 1973 when I arrived to begin my life as a newly married military bride. My husband was stationed at RAF Greenham Common in Newbury and we lived in a small village on the outskirts called Thatcham.

I have so many wonderful memories of life on foreign soil. I remember arriving at Heathrow International Airport. I had never flown before and everything was so big and loud. I was raised in a very quiet town in West Virginia. There were very few “foreigners” in our neck of the woods. Mom had a friend who was from Lebanon. I had a distant relative who married a man whose parents immigrated from another country. When I arrived in London, I wasn’t sure there hadn’t been some sort of mistake and I had landed in Pakistan!

As I went through customs, I looked out a long wall of windows and saw nothing but a sea of faces staring back in. I was horrified! I turned to the Customs Agent and asked her how on earth I was going to find my husband in all this mess. She smiled and assured me HE would find ME…not to worry. He did, of course. As we left the parking garage, we entered The Twilight Zone! Every thing was different. We drove on the wrong side of the street. Huge crosswalks called “zebras” made it clear they took pedestrian safety very seriously in this country. As in any major city in the world, the cacophany of car horns were only outdone by the odd “wee woop” of emergency sirens. Big, black taxis looking all the world like they came straight out of a ’50s movie jockeyed for position to pick up the bazillion people frantically waving their arms for attention. I know for a fact I didn’t blink for the first hour I was there.

I remember long drives through rolling fields of green. We lived in horse country. The only thing worse than hitting a pedestrian in England would be hitting a horse! Quite often, horse and rider would be spotted on the little country lanes we traveled and you had to always be on your toes to watch out for them. Hubby #1 worked the night shift so on his nights off, we would drive in the dark, foggy countryside. It was peaceful and quiet then…the yellow streetlights cutting through the dense fog to allow us to see our way.

I had my first baby when I lived in England. We traveled often to Reading for my doctor’s visits. We stopped at tea houses or bakeries or the local fish ’n chips shop. The only fast food in the country that we were familiar with was a Kentucky Fried Chicken there in Reading. We went to a park with our food. There was a large circular pond and people floated big motorized model boats on the water with remote controls. It was all so serene and peaceful. It really was like stepping back in time. The only thing that didn’t feel like a throwback were the young people. They were way ahead of the times sporting mohawks and studded leather jackets. It was an interesting dichotomy.

Shopping was done frequently as the refrigerators were nothing larger than a dorm fridge. You carried a basket to market twice a week to buy food and whatever else you were looking for at the time. Cindy and I often shopped together. I was once mistaken by a shopkeeper as her mother yet I was only two years older than she! Granted, she looked very young for her age and I was very pregnant. Cindy threw a surprise baby shower for me. She is my sweet, forever sister/friend.

I know I’ve talked about this part of my life before, but I wanted to share these photos with you. It was so great to send them to my daughter and say…“Here’s the place we brought you to when we came home from the hospital!” I do SO want to return someday. I want to take Daughter #1 and her family. I’d also like to have Cindy and her husband join us. Dreams. Something to work towards. Always put something joyful in front of you! ❤️

“People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“The Umbrella Incident” or “How to Feed Your Man”

Sat, 13 Jan 2018 02:30:33 -0600

“Winter Flooding in West Virginia” by Ginny McKinney

It all started innocently enough. It was going to rain and I was heading to town soon. As I jumped in the shower, I called out to Mr. FixIt.

“Honey…would you mind grabbing my umbrella out of the truck?”

When I got dressed and was heading out the door, I looked around. My umbrella wasn’t there. I asked if he had gotten it for me and Mr. FixIt said no. There was an umbrella there by the door. Now, it was a perfectly good umbrella. One that, you know, keeps rain off of you. But I wanted MY umbrella and I felt Mr. FixIt had made a decision for me. I didn’t like it.

Silly…that was just plain silly of me. But, I am my mother’s daughter and stubborn is my middle name. I hopped out the door and into the rain…sans umbrella.

“I’ll show YOU!” I thought as I made a mad dash for the truck. “I don’t need your stinky old boy umbrella!”

Ridiculous. I got wet because I got my nose out of joint. And why? Because, somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I equated “Please get my umbrella.” with “Please tell me you love me.” That is old school thinking right there…something I thought I left behind like…two relationships ago.

It’s been a couple of weeks now. And ever since, I’ve been criticizing Mr. FixIt’s every move. Mostly because he’s a man and he had surgery and he’s SUPPOSED to be taking care of that hand so it will heal properly and he’s as stubborn as me and he does things his way and….did I say he was stubborn? I have spent the better part of two weeks with “Don’t pick that up!” And “Here…let ME do it!” I think there were eye-rolls involved. All of this was done in an effort to punish him for a perceived slight that was nothing more than something made up in my head. Some unpacked baggage from seasons past that has absolutely nothing to do with him.

Then…the rain started.

It rained…hard. Yesterday morning I awoke to the sounds of the carpet cleaner sucking water up from the rug downstairs. The basement flooded! I jumped up and ran downstairs. And there was my man…emptying one gallon containers of dirty water into the sink…carrying them with two hands, one of which he isn’t supposed to lift anything heavier than popcorn.

“Breathe…breathe…don’t scold him. He’s not a child.” My inner voice reasoned with me.

“Did you plug in the sump pump?” I asked.

“No.” Shoulders slumped. Voice dejected.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked.

Shoulders slumped more. “Stupid. It was stupid.”

I took the carpet cleaner and started that part myself so he wouldn’t have to carry the bucket to the sink. Mr. FixIt went about sweeping up water in the room without carpet. He ran the vacuum. We didn’t talk much. Then I sent him off on an errand to town.

After he left, I went upstairs and fixed myself a cup of coffee. I sipped it as I ran the carpet cleaner back and forth over the soggy carpet. And I fumed. Then I could see the dejected slump of my sweetheart’s shoulders and my heart softened.

“Lord,” I said out loud. “I haven’t been loving this wonderful man you gave me the way I should. I haven’t been loving him the way you love me. And all because he didn’t get my umbrella for me!”

I sucked up more water, emptied the bucket, and began again.

“Lord, please give me the heart of a cheerful servant. Let me see all of his good qualities and none of the annoying traits that make us human. Can you do that for me, please?” I asked with sincere earnestness in my voice.

Suddenly, the old hymn “Farther Along” started up in my mind and I began to sing out loud as I vacuumed up bucket after bucket of water.

“Tempted and tried we’re oft made to wonder Why it should be thus all the day long While there are others living about us Never molested though in the wrong.

Farther along we’ll know all about it Farther along well understand why Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine We’ll understand it all by and by.

When death has come and taken our loved ones It leaves our home so lonely and drear Then do we wonder why others prosper Living so wicked year after year.

When we see Jesus coming in glory When he comes down from his home in the sky Then we shall meet him in that bright mansion We’ll understand it all by and by.

Farther along we’ll know all about it Farther along we’ll understand why Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine We’ll understand it all by and by.

Yes, we’ll understand it…all by and by.”

I sang and sang and in two verses…maybe three…something happened. Any negative thoughts I had been having dissolved. My heart was soft and open. God had indeed given me the heart of a cheerful servant, just as I had asked.

I went on and worked, happily singing and emptying bucket after bucket of dirty flood water. I worked for about three hours when Mr. FixIt walked in carrying breakfast for me. I went upstairs and gave him a great big hug and an even bigger smile. I thanked him profusely for bringing me a warm breakfast. I hadn’t taken time to eat. I patted the seat beside me. He shook his head and said no…he needed to get back to it.

“Please?” I begged. “Just for a minute.”

He smiled and sat down.

“Sweetheart, listen…I know you feel stupid for not plugging in the sump pump. But, I could have thought of it, too. And I didn’t. We unplugged it to put up the snowman for Christmas and just forgot. We make mistakes…it happens. It wasn’t your fault.” I put my hand on his knee and looked at him intently. I wanted to make sure he heard me.

Mr. FixIt turned those baby blues to mine and gave me his sweetest smile. And, I felt I’d made it right. This is how you feed a man. You feed his spirit. You feed his soul. You breathe life into him. When you start looking for the bad in your love…that’s all you will see. I really, REALLY don’t want to go there. Do I get it right all the time? Oh, heck no! I’m human, too. I stumble and forget and let my lower self talk WAY too often. But sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I remember to ask God for help. Yesterday was one of those days. ❤️

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Here Comes the Rain

Fri, 12 Jan 2018 02:30:57 -0600

“Belpre Bridge” by Ginny McKinney

Yesterday morning was sunny and warm. By warm, I mean 47. As in…above freezing! And by afternoon it was 72 degrees according to the thermometer on my truck. swoon I haven’t felt this warm since sometime back in September. It was downright balmy out there!

Mr. FixIt and I had errands to run yesterday and he asked me mid-day what I’d like for lunch. My go to favorite? The Southwest Grilled Chicken Salad with Fat Free Honey Mustard Dressing from Chik-fil-A! And my go to favorite place to eat it? Point Park in Parkersburg. I wanted to watch the ice floes out on the Ohio River. Yesterday, there were three Blue Herons and a bunch of Seagulls sitting out on the ice. I believe two gents were trying to woo the same lady heron because one kept shooing off the interloper. Said lady was having none of it and kept flying away from Mr. Romance.

It had just started raining when we parked in our favorite spot. We really wanted to see a tug pushing barges through the ice but unfortunately, none came along. As an update, Mr. FixIt started working with a hand therapist yesterday. He’s doing really well. He did strain it a little last Sunday night when he pushed up off the floor, but it’s much better now. The therapist made a custom splint for his wrist and thumb that is much sturdier than the one he was given at the surgeon’s office and I am relieved. I was very worried he would slip on the ice and snow last week and really do some damage. We sure don’t want to have to go through this again!

One of my friends and his wife lost their faithful companion, Blue, yesterday. When I was so lonely and hurting, so many of my readers encouraged me to adopt a dog, but this is exactly why I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t put myself through that loss. Mr. Virgo and I put our seventeen-year-old Yorkie-Maltese mix down just three months before Mr. Virgo himself died suddenly. We had had Cricket cremated and were going to spread her ashes in the flower garden in the spring. When Mr. Virgo died, I just put that little box of ashes in the casket with him and swore I’d never have another dog. My heart aches for those who lose their beloved fur babies.

With the nature of grief being so unpredictable, sometimes you literally feel as though you are just one crisis away from losing it entirely. I cannot tell you how many times I have been in the throes of grief, and the accompanying anxiety, and I have felt like I just couldn’t handle one more thing. As a matter of fact, the FEAR of having one more thing happen actually escalated everything. I have an arsenal of coping strategies at my disposal, but sometimes the slope is too steep and the boulder gains too much momentum too fast. There were so many nights when it all got away from me and all I could do was cling to God and pray for morning. If I can get a hold of the wave early enough, the best thing I can do is get out of the situation I’m in. It usually hits me when I’m in bed, so I get up and do something…scrub the kitchen floor, clean out the fridge, run the vacuum.

Another thing that will stop things from spinning out of control for me is writing. There have been countless times I’ve sat down to write my post while I’m feeling the waves of grief and anxiety come over me. As I write, I can literally feel the stress, fear, and anxiety fade…sometimes melting away entirely. I can’t stress enough how much writing can help you through grief. You don’t have to have a blog. Get a journal and write in it every night. I not only wrote this blog, but I filled several personal journals through the first two or three years after Mr. Virgo died. Writing saved me. TOW-Wanda saved me. God saved me. ❤️

““This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘Write in a book all the words I have spoken to you.” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭30:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Bent Reed

Thu, 11 Jan 2018 02:30:39 -0600

“The Bent Reed” by Ginny McKinney

A lot of people are struggling right now. I don’t know what it is about January. Sure, there’s the let down after the holidays. There’s the long, dark nights. There’s the bitterly cold, grey days. But there’s more than that. There’s a lot of loss.

I have friends who are dealing with very serious health issues…either of their own or members of their immediate family. I get prayer requests daily…from multiple people. Disasters, accidents, illness, death. Add this on top of the usual slump of January and it can send you down in a spiral in a hurry.

I was reminded of this beautiful verse the other day. I wish I would have had it written down so I could have carried it with me in those first long dark winter months without Mr. Virgo. I know it would have helped. As with all things, it has come to me now…when it means the most. When I need it the most. When I need to share it. God always provides.

My mom died after a brief illness of five days in January 2014. My cousin’s husband a year later at 50. My sweet Uncle Bob the next January. January is just not a good month…for me and for a lot of other people.

I bought a new computer the other day. When I was setting it up this week, I noticed a bunch of photos had come down out of the cloud. I hadn’t seen them in a long time, since my computer has been on the fritz for a while. I was scrolling through when my screen was filled with…Mr. Virgo…in his casket. A friend took the picture for me. At first, I thought it was macabre. Then I realized I needed to have that. For a long time it was the only thing that would allow me to cry. I needed to get that out. But somewhere along the line, the pictures from the funeral home made their way up into the cloud and I didn’t see them again. Till this week. It was like getting sucker punched when that popped up, filling my screen with a vision so painful you can feel it in your bones.

Yes, a lot of people are struggling. Debbie’s husband Toby is in the hospital. Sue’s friend had a biopsy today. Lynn’s family is struggling. Diane lost both her parents and her father-in-law in Januarys along the way and her best friend just lost his dad. The world seems to be reeling under forces whipping it into a frenzy. So, again…I am reminded of this verse.

God will not break a bent reed. He will not snuff out a smoldering flame. When you are at your weakest point, God is still strong. The same God that gave his Son. The same God that walked on water and rose the dead and healed blind men. The same God that breathed life into this world lives today. And He knocks. And He waits. He is a patient, polite God. He will not impose himself. He will not barge in on you. He waits for you to open the door. Opening that door is what has made it possible for me to keep breathing, to keep walking forward through every storm…through every season. I was only bent. ❤️

“A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out…” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭42:3‬ ‭NIV

Old Friends

Mon, 08 Jan 2018 02:30:25 -0600

Our babies were just wee ones when we met. We were taking a sewing class together which really turned out to be twice a week therapy for busy moms to vent and create something beautiful. Sue took my breath away. Tall and slender with that long, thick, full-bodied hair those of us with baby fine strands drool over, she embodied the earth mother I so desperately wanted to be. We became fast friends. We got together and had tea. We hiked. We stitched and b****ed our way through our children’s youth. We were soccer moms. And, even though we were several years apart in age, we had so much in common.

Sue is one of those friends you may not speak to more than once or twice a year. But when you do, you feel this incredible soul connection and time disappears. We pass each other on Facebook. We give each other virtual hugs and atta girls. We know we are never more than a message or a text or a phone call away.

Sue moved away from Glenwood Springs a couple of years before that cataclysmic event…the overdose…and my world changed dramatically. She was so worried about me. She was supportive and listened and offered me unconditional love. There was a long stretch of time when we didn’t get to see each other. She was at our wedding. Then Mr. Virgo died and she couldn’t come to the funeral. When I went on my three month journey into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado, Sue invited me to her little “ranchita” down near the Four Corners area. She had ten acres overlooking Mesa Verde. She had a labyrinth she had designed and built. By this time, she was an accomplished yogi.

The day I arrived at her place near Dolores, Sue came running out of the house and grabbed me. She hugged me tight then pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

“You said you were doing ok…but I had to see for myself. I wouldn’t know for sure till I squeezed you!” Then she drew me in for another hug.

Sue ministers to you with softness, compassion. She settled me in the rocking chair by the big picture window. She brought me tea. She sat with me and we rocked…the comforting quiet hanging between us like a well worn quilt as we watched the birds at the immense feeder just beyond the glass. We drove to Silverton one day to be at the finish line of a mountain bike race. I was terribly anxious the night before. I had a really hard time with anxiety the first year or two after Mr. Virgo died. Sue sat with me for hours into the night as I cried and threw up and was generally a horrible mess. She’s that friend…the one who loves you when you’re really messy. She is the one who kicked me in the butt and made me write my book. She said…”Write it now while there is pain in your heart. We will feel it. If you try to write it after you heal, you will lose that voice.” She is so right. I love her dearly.

It’s a new year…time for us to reconnect. Sue and I talked for two hours and twenty-two minutes last night. We discussed all the changes in our lives…all the changes to come. And we decided to plan a yoga retreat. We’ll have yoga sessions as well as talks…nutrition, self-care, grief, art, music, writing. I have a picture in my mind of what I want it to look like. I’ll let you know as we formulate a plan and I’d love you to come!

Life is full of interesting twists and turns, isn’t it? My word this year is “presence”. By being present, I will flow through life more awake, more open, more prepared to embrace challenges. Retreats have been a HUGE dream of mine. Time to start letting that dream out to play! ❤️

“gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:23‬ ‭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

Greater is the One

Sat, 06 Jan 2018 02:30:38 -0600

The nature of my writing has grown with the changes I have gone through on my grief journey. Early on, it was so incredibly painful to even try to put words together to express my pain. I understood for the first time how God could hear our prayers when all we can manage are groans. Once the words started, it was like releasing a torrent. My pain literally fell onto the pages and it was emotionally exhausting…for me, and for you as well. The release was cathartic. The more I let it go, the more my heart healed.

Not everyone has a blog where they can release the pent up pain, anger, frustration, confusion that comes with grief. I am blessed with this venue and I don’t take any of you for granted. Your feedback and support has been so incredibly healing for me. I am blessed with family and friends who were supportive during the early months of my grief. The day Mr. Virgo died and I called my daughters, they dropped what they were doing and jumped in their cars to begin the long drive to be with me. They stayed by my side. They answered the phone for me. They made important calls. They took me everywhere I needed to go. Daughter #1 slept with me every night with her arm across my chest to protect me, to calm me, to reassure me I was not alone.

People gathered and surrounded me with love and support and food. My daughters and I bought every funny DVD we could find and tried to find someplace to land besides terror and pain. My friends held me in silence…the same friends who dressed me for my wedding and placed the flowers all around. Here they were…nearly six years to the day…doing the only thing they could do. After we lay Mr. Virgo in the ground, we gathered at our home…my home. I went straight to the humidor and got the expensive cigar he was saving for golf in the summer. I grabbed the bottle of Courvoisier I had used for Mr. Virgo’s favorite fruitcake. And I gathered the men…and my younger daughter. She was particularly close to her stepdad. We went to the front porch and smoked the cigar, and passed the bottle around till it was gone. We told manly stories of golf and travel, hotels and restaurants…all things Mr. Virgo.

After everyone left, the family gathered me up and took me to a restaurant to entice me to eat. I hadn’t had much of anything but coffee for days. It was the day before St. Patrick’s Day…a fine day to be buried, Mr. Virgo would have said. My daughters needed to get back to Denver. Daughter #1 offered to stay longer if I needed her. And while I did…desperately…I said no. I knew she needed to get back to her own family…her own life. And so, just like that, they were gone. And the house became quiet.

I stayed home alone for a week. I had paperwork to do and some things to wrap up at work. I packed a bag, stopped my mail, and headed to Denver to be near the kids. My son-in-law’s parents kept me at their home. I don’t remember the first week I was there…except that I didn’t get dressed for a week and only occasionally ventured out of the room for a little food. I slept much of the time. Finally, I started to join the land of the living again.

Slowly…ever so slowly…I moved forward. Days became weeks and week, months. The firsts started…my first birthday without him, his birthday, the holidays. Our wedding anniversary was just three weeks after he died. People called to see how I was doing. They sent cards and texts and checked in with me on Facebook. One of my daughter’s friends from high school contacted me every week for the first year. And eventually…they all moved on. It was inevitable. They can’t stay forever. They can’t stop their lives forever.

At first, I was really put out. I still needed to vent. I still needed to cry. I needed to tell every story, a hundred times. I needed so much. I needed more than they could ever give. I have to say, I never felt completely abandoned. I am blessed to have the most fabulous people in my life who would listen to me even today if I called and cried. However…I did feel “like a burden”, as one of my readers put it. I didn’t want to unload on them all the time. Somehow, I managed to reach that tipping point where I realized I needed to start managing this pain on my own. That was a really lonely stretch. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have to sit in that “waiting room” (as my friend Christina Rasmussen calls it in her book, Second Firsts) forever, but I had no idea how long I’d be in this social limbo. I wanted to stay alone forever AND I wanted to be with people. I wanted to be invited out AND I wanted to never talk to another soul. I wanted to feel normal AND I didn’t want to feel anything. Oh….grief is crazy making.

I had to have something to hang onto…something, someONE, who would anchor me and keep me from flying off the face of the earth. Even though I had been a Christian for seven years, I only attended church sporadically. One Sunday morning, many months after Mr. Virgo died, I decided I needed to talk to someone who never tired of hearing my cries. Someone who would give and give and give…no matter how much I needed. Who would love me no matter how messy or messed up I got. I went back to church…and I’ve been going ever since.

As much as people want to help…they are people. They are fallible. They can say the wrong things. They can feel overwhelmed by your pain. They can burn out from your grief. But God? God never gets tired of hearing from you. God never gets tired of comforting you. He never gets tired of holding you close. Greater is the one who lives within me than the one who lives in the world. God is the one…the only one who will always, always love you. Even when you cry that horrible snot-slinging cry that no one needs to see. Even when you are so anxious you stay up puking all night. Even when your life seems not worth living. The only way you can lose is to give up. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up. Because joy comes again. It sneaks in the cracks of your broken heart when you least expect it. Not all at once…just a little tiny bit at a time. But it comes, dear one. Hang on…it comes. ❤️

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

#God, #Love, #Light

Deep Freeze

Fri, 05 Jan 2018 02:30:21 -0600

Winter Dawn by Ginny McKinney

As most of the country settles in for a rough ride on the Snowball Express, I am sitting here snug as a bug in a rug at Mr. FixIt’s house. I’ve taken to listening to praise music as I write my posts. I’ve changed things up and started writing during the day instead of late at night. I thought it might give me a different perspective and add a new dimension to the blog. The praise music not only keeps my heart in the right place, it inspires me to write about a scripture instead of the other way around. All this time I have written my post then I’d go look for an appropriate scripture that illustrated what my thinking was. That’s a much more time consuming process.

I downloaded an app on my phone called Moment. It tracks my screen time and frankly, I was appalled when I saw how much time I spend staring at a screen. Granted, it’s not all mindless surfing or game playing. A good portion of it is spent writing these posts. Now, that in itself is not a bad thing by any means. It’s just that…I have this really sweet guy that would probably enjoy a little more attention and a little less screen time. So, I’m trying a few new things…new tactics to shave a little time off the screen and a little more looking into those baby blues that look so adoringly into mine. Win-Win, right?

Another thing I’m going to try is, at least on occasion, including my drawings as the cover photo for my posts. This gives me the opportunity to practice…not only the drawings themselves, but the opportunity to be bold in sharing them. We all need opportunities to be bold.

So, here I sit…snuggled on the sofa under that beautiful blue fox fur blanket. A fresh latte. Kari Jobe. A fire. Snow softly falling. My tree will remain to bring me light and peace well into the new year. I have the promise of a meteor shower and a blue moon to look forward to this month. The year is fresh with hope and promise. And I have this really cool Apple Pencil and Procreate…the world is at my fingertips! My heart is full, even in the depths of this bitter cold. Stay warm, my friends. ❤️

“Out of the south cometh the whirlwind: and cold out of the north.” ‭‭Job‬ ‭37:9‬ ‭KJV‬‬

On Being Brave

Thu, 04 Jan 2018 02:30:08 -0600

I step out…WAY out of my comfort zone here sometimes. I believe in pushing boundaries in order to grow. It has made me a stronger, more well-rounded person to stretch since Mr. Virgo died.

I’ve always been creative. I can draw and paint landscapes, flowers, houses and do a pretty fair rendition. But people and animals…faces…elude me. I never get the proportion right. I’m heavy handed. There is no “life” in them.

When my iPad died at the beginning of the year and I bought a new one, there was this white pencil lying next to it. I asked the salesman what it was and he told me it was a new tool to draw with. He showed me a program called Procreate and he could turn the pencil into a paintbrush loaded with oils or a big, fat pastel or a fine technical pencil. Anything…this thing can be anything! It was magic to me and I HAD to have it. Have it, I did. I knew I wouldn’t have time to really use it until the long dark nights of winter so I’ve been anxiously waiting to play with it.

I have no idea why on earth I would start with a face. I did a study on eyes. I did a quick sketch that vaguely resembled Mr. FixIt. Then I put on my headphones, turned on the Kari Jobe station on Amazon Music and closed my eyes. I thought of Jesus as I listened to the praise music and pictured His face. Then I started to draw. I tried to “get out of the way” and let my hand draw what I saw in my mind. I enjoyed watching it take shape. It’s amateurish, to say the least. And (here’s where I’m stepping out of my comfort zone) I’m sharing it with you here.

I’m much better at painting a picture with words. I’m much better at making a quilt or stitching a sampler or knitting a pair of socks. I’m much better at making jewelry out of old silverware or antique maps. A long time ago, I tried my hand at writing and I listened to the wrong people. They told me my writing wasn’t publishable. That it really wasn’t good. And I believed that, so I stopped trying. This drawing of Jesus may not be very good…but nothing anyone ever says to me will ever make me stop trying again. No matter what it is I’m trying to do.

It doesn’t matter what the end product looks like. It doesn’t matter if a piece of art is gallery worthy. It doesn’t matter if you can’t carry a tune in a washtub. It doesn’t matter if your words aren’t Pulitzer Prize material. What matters is one thing…does it give you joy? If it does…do that! Don’t worry about what others might think. Don’t worry about being judged. Just do what brings you joy!

I’ll keep drawing. Who knows? My writing has improved over the years. Maybe the drawing will, too. But honestly? It’s a form of meditation for me…no matter how it looks. Be brave and stretch! ❤️

““Now get up, Ezra. Take charge—we’re behind you. Don’t back down.”” ‭‭Ezra‬ ‭10:4‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Surviving the Climb

Wed, 03 Jan 2018 02:30:36 -0600

Occasionally I get a comment on my blog from someone so fresh on this grief journey that they are lost. They don’t know where to turn or what to do next. They are obviously in a great deal of pain and my heart breaks for them because…I know. I’ve been there. Many of us have. I respond to every single comment on my blog. Most often it’s with a ❤️, just to let you know I have seen your comment. Occasionally, I write something back. On this particular occasion, I wrote a whole essay as my response. After giving it some thought, I decided it was time again to revisit “How do you survive this?”

My reader lost her husband unexpectedly in early November. He was minding his own business, driving to work, when he was struck head-on by an impaired driver and was killed. Her world was shattered. The future she had planned with her husband was gone. To add insult to injury, her husband’s death was followed in rapid succession by Thanksgiving, his birthday, an important graduation, Christmas, and New Years. All without him. Her question? How do you cope with this?

Here is my response:

First, let me tell you my heart is with you, dear one. You are SO fresh on this journey and it’s so difficult. Having all those firsts, one after another when the ink is hardly dry must be unbearable. I can’t tell you how to grieve because it’s such a personal thing. I can tell you how I dealt with things and hopefully it will help you as well. If you haven’t yet, do go to Marshmallow Ranch on Facebook and see if you can scroll back to the early days of my blog. You will find much more relatable material there. I started the blog in January 2013 as a way to promote jewelry I was making. Then Mr. Virgo died in March. That’s when the blog morphed into an online grief journal. I know that’s a lot of material to sort through, but it just might help.

At your stage of this journey, let me say this…there is no rule book. But here’s a list of ways to cope.

Don’t let anyone say you should do it this way or you shouldn’t do it that way. Do it your way.
You will make mistakes. Don’t be too hard on yourself when you do.
Be careful…extra careful with your money.
Get plenty of rest, eat right, and exercise as you can.
Avoid drugs and alcohol…they are nothing but bandaids that put off the hurt. That goes for new relationships. I know, I know. I thought that was crazy too till I got involved with someone just five months after my beloved died. I just wanted the pain to go away but when I pulled that bandage off, dear God…it was worse.
Feel your feelings. Cry when you need to. Laugh when you can.
There’s an actual condition called grief brain. You can’t remember squat and it may be scary as the dickens. Don’t worry…it does get better in time. You never go back to baseline, but you do get better.
You won’t be in this fog forever and eventually you will feel joy. Don’t feel guilty for that.
I found the services of a grief counselor to be extremely helpful. I had PTSD from watching the CPR for hours so I had EMDR treatments which helped immensely.

Remember…you don’t “get over” this…you get through it. But, you will never be the same. Let me repeat that…you will never be the same. Don’t even try to find the old you. She is gone. Once a pickle, always a pickle…you don’t get to go back to being a fresh little cucumber again. Whether you become a sour or sweet pickle is largely up to you. Do NOT give up hope of finding a good life, though. You can…and you will…with determination and perseverance.

I realized early on that he died, I did not. I owed it to his memory to live…actually LIVE the days my husband was not given. Since we were looking at campers when he died, I went out and bought one and joined Sisters on the Fly…a women’s adventure group. I also belong to Girl Campers. These are all empowering groups that helped me become brave and strong.

One last word of caution. It’s ok to mattress surf once in a while but don’t live there. Get up every day, splash water on your face, brush your teeth, and get dressed. Make your bed. You’re not as likely to climb back in it if it’s made. Scrub your kitchen sink. A clean sink sets the tone for the day in my book. Even if you just move from the bed to the couch…you’ve moved. Keep moving. One step, two steps. Eventually you will be able to take a deep breath again. (Oh, that’s also a thing. Physiologically, grief causes you to sigh a lot which makes you try to take deep breaths and it’s difficult. You almost feel like you can’t get a deep enough breath. Unless you are passing out or have chest pain or prolonged irregular heartbeat or cold, clammy sweat, its nothing to be worried about. Always ask your healthcare professional if you are concerned about your health. However…this sensation disappears after some time.)

Tincture of time. That’s how I dealt with the loss of my husband. Move forward…and pray, a lot. You may not feel Him there, but God is with your every step. He holds you in the palm of His hand and He weeps for your pain. Let Him wrap His feathers around you and take your rest there. Come back here anytime you need some support. You may send me private messages at any time and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Prayers for comfort and strength, dear one. This is a club we didn’t ask to join. You will learn how to perform magic like tap dancing around that husband-sized hole in your heart without falling in…every…damn…time.

Grief comes in waves. At first it knocks you down. Eventually you learn to expect the waves and you can lean in and keep your footing without drowning. It’s almost five years since my loss and I have built a new life. I have expanded my social circle and have learned many new skills. And…much to my amazement…I have found love again and it is so sweet and rich. Mostly because now I have a thorough understanding of just what I lost and how incredibly precious life and love are.

We all know someone who suffers a loss. We don’t always know how to help or what to say. May I suggest bookmarking this page and share it when appropriate? Share it with everyone you know because someone knows someone who is hurting. Let’s make this the year we reach out to widows and widowers and offer them whatever comfort and support we can. ❤️

“Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13:16‬ ‭ESV

“Ramona and Her Pet Burro, Bob” or “How My Memory Has Changed Since Mr. Virgo Died”

Tue, 02 Jan 2018 02:30:57 -0600

We went to the farm yesterday. On our way there, Mr. Fixit pointed out the two little burros huddling in a shed, trying to keep warm in the frigid 9 degree air. Seeing the little burros, my mind immediately went soaring back forty years to one of the favorite periods of my life. When I met Hubby #2, he was a Physical Therapist who worked across the hall from me. I was the X-Ray Tech for a small rehabilitation hospital in downtown Denver. He was also finishing some pre-med classes at CU Boulder in preparation for applying to medical school. We were young and in love and poor as church mice. Daughter #1 was three years old. We had no money so we were adept at finding activities that were free, or nearly so. It was cool to be poor struggling students.

It was the late ‘70s. Trivial Pursuit was HOT and we played it a lot. H#2 told me about the Trivia Bowl that was held annually at UC Boulder. It was free, it was close, and it was fun. It was held in a large room. Two teams sat at tables on a makeshift stage and the audience stood shoulder to shoulder around a packed room…a rowdy crowd. I don’t remember a lot about that night. After all, it was forty years ago. But I do remember one team was called “Ramona and Her Pet Burro, Bob”. How could you forget that, right? I also remember one of the questions was,…”What were the tail numbers on Sky King’s plane?” What??? I knew I was witnessing trivia royalty when one young student slammed his hand down on the buzzer in a fraction of a second and shouted out…”N5348A!” You’re kidding! Ok, I Googled it just now…but I was in awe back then. Who remembers stuff like that?

My memory isn’t what it used to be. You don’t get to Medicare age without losing a little something. It’s been made worse by grief and the head injury I suffered in February didn’t help matters. I’ll bet memory loss…or, “grief brain”…is the subject I address most often with those who have recently lost a loved one. I remember I thought I was going crazy or something was wrong with me when I couldn’t keep track of anything in the first couple of years after losing Mr. Virgo. I made lists and then couldn’t remember where I put them. Or my notes seemed cryptic and made no sense when I revisited them. It was a scary time. Will my memory come back? Will it get worse? What is wrong with me?

I don’t remember who told me about grief brain (see???) but I do very much recall the overwhelming sense of relief I felt knowing it wasn’t just me. That’s when I knew for sure I needed to write this blog. Because not everyone has someone to mentor them and while I wasn’t far enough along to actually BE a mentor, I could share what I was learning and feeling along the way. One of the greatest gifts you are given from grief comes when you turn around and offer a hand to someone who is further back the road than you are. It is the price we pay for the grace we receive during our own grief journey.

Memory…its a slippery sucker. I still will get a brilliant flash of an idea for a post that I just know will resonate with someone…and if I don’t write it down, or make some sort of correlation in my mind to remember it later, it’s gone. That is probably the single most frustrating thing I face when I write. I still have a hard time making myself write down ideas because I swear I’ll be able to remember. It’s aggravating. The tool that helps me most is the “Note” app on my phone. I can jot ideas down and when I hit a lean period and have trouble coming up with a topic, I go into my list and find something that is currently applicable. It’s not like it used to be. It never will be. But it works for the most part.

Just knowing you aren’t alone in this is often all you need to relax into the flow and be present with your feelings. No matter how difficult your struggle, God is always there with you whether you feel Him or not. Knowing that can bring enormous comfort. ❤️

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”” ‭‭Joshua‬ ‭1:9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Out With the Old...In With the New!!!

Mon, 01 Jan 2018 02:30:47 -0600

I love when the calendar turns to a new year. The slate is wiped clean and you can start fresh…a great big do over. Never was this more impactful to me personally than January 1, 2014. It was the first New Year’s Day after losing Mr. Virgo. Somehow, I had it in my head that if I could just say “My husband died last year” it would somehow make the loss easier. It didn’t. Not by a long shot.

I had, in my crazed grief-stricken brain, thought it would be a good idea to start dating someone…just five months after my sweet husband died. Holy Mother of God…what was I thinking??? In my defense…I wasn’t thinking. That first year…well, really the first two years…I wasn’t sane. Not in a conventional definition of the word anyway. I did some things right, but my thinking was just off. My decision making skills were lacking. Thank God time and lots of prayer and introspection have brought me to this new place…this new life.

Now when I look at the New Year, I contemplate where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and formulate new goals. I don’t make resolutions. I’ve never kept a resolution in my life. But I do come up with a focus word. The word for 2017 was “Reach”. I think I lived up to that. I launched a new website. I spoke to several groups. I was interviewed on several podcasts and publications. I had a branded series developed for me called “Getting Bolder” on the Sisters on the Fly website. I continued to write an essay every day here. I traveled to Florida twice, the Outer Banks, Tennessee, and Colorado. I camped and/or had outings with the Girl Campers and Sisters on the Fly several times. I continued working on my social media platform to improve my chances of selling this book I’ve got basically written. And…I introduced you to Mr. FixIt. It’s been a really big year and I reached about as far as I could!

So, now I need a new word for the new year. There are so many things I want to practice in the coming year. Patience. I am not a patient person. Compassion. I try, but I am not always successful practicing compassion with people who try my patience. Love. I want to feel my Heavenly Father’s love and involvement in everything I do so that I might feel that same love toward everyone…including those to whom I want to show compassion because they have tried my patience. You see where I’m going with this? You might think I’m going to choose the word “Patience” to meditate on this year, but you’d be wrong. I learned a long time ago not to pray for patience because when I do, God gives me every single little opportunity to practice it and I just don’t have it in me to be that challenged anymore. No, I have a different word in mind.

My choice? Presence.

If I am present in all I do, I am here to show up and do what is needed. If I am present…I feel God’s love. If I am present…I can actively choose to love others as Jesus loves me. If I feel God’s love, and actively choose to love others the way Jesus loves me, in every interaction I have…everything gets better. My relationships with family and friends are bound to improve. My interactions with others…even complete strangers…can only improve when I exemplify the kind of love Jesus has for me.

How do you remain present in today’s hectic world? To achieve the kind of presence I am looking for, I need to start every day with a connection to the Source. I need to reach for His Word first…before Facebook. Before the news and weather. Even before Mr. FixIt. It doesn’t take much. Five minutes. Five minutes first thing every morning, before anything else, I will seek His face and feel His love for me. I will invite Him to come into my day…into my world…and walk with me. It’s no different than asking any other loved one to go for a walk with me. But the benefits are undeniably higher.

That’s my word. Presence. Feel every moment. Focus on God’s love. Bring His Love and Light into every aspect of my life. I can’t help but shine! ❤️

“After looking at the way things are on this earth, here’s what I’ve decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that’s about it. That’s the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what’s given and delighting in the work. It’s God’s gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now. It’s useless to brood over how long we might live.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭5:18-20‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Let Me Entertain You

Sat, 30 Dec 2017 02:30:39 -0600

One of the all time BEST things about Mr. FixIt is this…he LOVES to have guests over as much as I do. I know it’s hart for you to believe but…I love to talk with people and learn about them and visit and tell stories. We had dinner guests three times this week. What a blessing it is to share a table with friends and family.

We started with an appetizer of baked brie en croute with fig jam. It sounds like something complicated but it wasn’t. I bought it at Sam’s, baked it at 375 for 20 minutes. Done!

Our dinner guests brought salad and I served it with hot rolls and an aioli of crushed herbs, salt, pepper, more of that wonderful Chardonnay Garlic infused olive oil drizzled over top, and a small pool of both Mango pulp and Blueberry vinegar. Yummmmm!

For the main course, I roasted two chickens. I did something completely different. I stuffed them with whole garlic cloves, quartered onions, and wedges of lemon. I trussed them up with kitchen twine, rubbed the sling with Chardonnay Garlic Olive Oil and sprinkled them with fresh ground pepper, ground pink Himalayan salt, more garlic, rustic herbs, and crushed rosemary. I placed a parking rack in a roasting pan and baked them at 350 for a little over 2 hours. OMGosh! When I cut into that chicken and the aroma of lemon and garlic hit the air? Wowza! It was awesome.

I accompanied the meal with fresh steamed broccoli with mashed potatoes and gravy (Sam’s ready made Yukon Gold Mashed Potatoes and Teay’s Valley Cream gravy made this part of the prep fast and easy.)

Dessert was homemade Gluten Free Bread Pudding with a dollop of French Vanilla Ice Cream. It was pretty heavenly!

Served with a Pinot Noir or my personal favorite, Fré dealcoholized wine, this was a meal fit for royalty. And it really wasn’t that difficult, or expensive, to throw together.

Here’s the recipe for the dessert. Bon Appetit!

Gluten Free Bread Pudding

6-8 slices of stale gluten free bread, cubed 4 eggs 2 cups milk 3 tablespoons Splenda blend brown sugar 1/2 c. Stevia for baking 1/2 tsp. Cinnamon 1/4 tsp. Apple Pie Spice 1 tsp Vanilla 1/2 tsp salt 3-4 big handfuls of raisins About 2/3 c. chopped pecan4 T. butter, melted

Cube bread and place in prepared baking dish. In this case, I used an 8” iron skillet sprayed with Baker’s Joy.

Add raisins and pecans.

Mix the rest of the ingredients and pour over bread. Using a fork, press the cubed bread down into the egg mixture to moisten it thoroughly. Drizzle the melted butter over the top. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven till the top begins to brown and the filling is springy to the touch. Serve warm with ice cream.

❤️

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” ‭‭Revelation‬ ‭3:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Doing the Right Thing

Fri, 29 Dec 2017 02:30:07 -0600

I love doTerra products. I especially love their LifePak vitamins and use them, along with a cannabis ointment to control the crippling plantar-palmar psoriasis I got after Mr. Virgo died. When I purchase these vitamins, I get reward points that I can redeem for free oils or other products. I didn’t realize just how many points I had until a couple of weeks ago. So, I had a grand time ordering bunches of stuff!

I received a notice in the mail just before Christmas that my box had arrived but it wouldn’t fit in the mailbox. I’m not sure why they didn’t deliver it to the door. We were home and could have received it, but it was during the Christmas rush so I am sure the mail carrier was overwhelmed. I went to the Post Office Tuesday and picked up my package. It was like a late Christmas gift to myself!

Yesterday, I received three more boxes. In those boxes were three bottles of shampoo and two more Copaiba oils. I looked back at the emailed order confirmation and I had only ordered one shampoo and one Copaiba, among other things. That is when I also noticed that I didn’t receive one of the items on the original order.

I contacted customer service via the chat app on doTerra’s website. I spoke with Jakob and explained the situation. He said he would be happy to send out the missing item right away and email me a label to ship back the duplicate items. He offered to award me 10 bonus points for my inconvenience. In the course of the conversation, I told him I could have just kept the extras but that wouldn’t have been the honest thing to do. He came back and said he appreciated customers like me and he was going to add 20 bonus points instead of 10! That is free product in my mailbox…all for being nice.

I began this blog five years ago. I have written an essay nearly every day, covering a wide range of topics from my grief at losing Mr. Virgo to camping in the wilderness of Colorado to living on the family farm. I’ve talked about childhood memories, recipes, farm cats, and family. I’ve touched on sensitive subjects like depression, anxiety, sexual abuse, and even came close to the third rail of politics…at least in the sense of trying to get along. I’ve talked about God and my faith and the importance of being good for goodness’ sake. In all that time, I can count on one hand the times I’ve had someone post something negative to me here. Do you know how rare that is in this business? The internet lets the bars down for rudeness because our interactions are not face-to-face. This emboldens some people to bring out the ugly side of humanity.

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you all…every single one of you. You meet me in this space and we have mutual respect and caring. There have been times when I have considered quitting. There have been times when it has become overwhelming and I have had trouble finding my voice. There are times when I feel perhaps I have said everything there is to say. It got better when I reached the point that I could lay down the burden of my grief and I realized I didn’t have to talk, or write, about it all the time. And, every time I’ve thought of stopping, I get feedback from you. Someone says, “You were speaking to me today.” or “This spoke to my heart this morning.” That’s when I realize…I’m not done. God is still using me to deliver the hope and encouragement only He can give. I ask Him for the words. He gives them to me freely. He will tell me if it’s time to quit.

So, I’ll be here every morning as you have your cup of coffee, or every afternoon when you take a break, or every evening when you stop and catch up with what’s been going on with everyone. I pray you find hope and joy and peace here. I hope you see the goodness in my life comes straight from God and it brings you closer to Him. Your “likes” and your “shares” and your comments bring His word to a greater and greater audience. We all spread Light and Hope and Joy when we share Him with others.

Thank you…for being here, for listening, for loving on me. Thank you for another year’s journey. Thank you for the many, many blessings you bring me. It is an honor to be invited into your hearts and lives every day and I do not take that lightly. Thank you for letting me be…well, ME! I am richly blessed. ❤️

“The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!"” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭50:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Hygge = Comfort

Thu, 28 Dec 2017 02:30:42 -0600

Yesterday was a much better day. It still amazes me how quickly things shift for me since losing Mr. Virgo. Yes, it’s been nearly five years since he died. Yes, I am in a wonderful, fulfilling relationship. But am I the same as I was before the loss? No…not by a long shot. Is every aspect of that a bad thing? The loss…yes. The grief has been incredibly difficult. But the peace and personal growth I have grasped between the waves is nothing short of miraculous.

I spent some time at the farm, soaking in the quiet winter sounds. Then came here to a quiet house. Mr. FixIt was off running errands so I curled up on the sofa, wrapped in the warmth of my fur throw made from the coat Mr. Virgo gave me our first married Christmas. The fire was going. The tree was lit. The soft scented candle I got for Christmas filled the air with the sweetness of apples and cinnamon. I asked Alexa to play the Zen Garden station on Amazon Music. The sun outside the window glittered on the new fallen snow. A cardinal sang in the brush next to the house. A cup of tea sat at my side. The freedom and peace was palpable.

Again, in my ever hopeful way, I stared out the window…searching the barren landscape for the beauty of winter. It’s difficult for me. I’m a summer girl. I let my eyes move across the the hill to the road and over to the meadow. I love it here. There’s five acres of flat land out there. I let my mind wander to past dreams. I’ve always wanted a place where I could hold retreats for artists, writers, craftspeople. A place where my Sisters and Girl Camper friends could bring their trailers and circle around a campfire. The big pole building out back is the perfect size for barn sales and dances. I let my eyes move on. There’s a pool between the building and the house. I smiled. Pool parties, family gatherings, barbecues. I have plenty of things to look forward to in the coming months.

I am also reminded of the term “hygge”. Originating in Scandinavia, the term means “simple, cozy pleasures, gratefulness, focusing on a better quality of life, taking pleasure in the presence in the gentle, an appreciation of the simple things in life, soothing things, a practical way of creating sanctuary, a place to restore and revive in the middle of very real life, evoking feelings of comfort” according to a recent article by Jan Zimmer, (Port Huron, Mich.) of the Times Herald. This will be my focus for the coming months. I will embrace the sunshine when it comes. I will listen for the song of the winter birds. I will sample teas and read and commune with my love. And, I will enjoy this end of the pendulum’s swing while I have it. ❤️

“…his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭30:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Post-Holiday Blues or Just Getting Back to Normal?

Wed, 27 Dec 2017 02:30:21 -0600

Is it the “blues”? Feeling a little depressed after the holidays? Things have you out of sorts? Once the last cookie has been consumed, the last gift unwrapped, the last guest sent off…it can feel like such a let down. Add to that a total disregard for your previously fairly pristine diet and you could be in a sugar crash, gluten-induced, holiday frazzled funk.

That’s where I found myself last night. We had dinner guests. My second cousin and his wife came over to celebrate their 36th wedding anniversary with us. I cooked all day…homemade spaghetti sauce, pasta, and apple dumplings for desert. I have been so super cautious for the last two years and have stayed away from gluten. I find I have more energy, my mood is stable, and my gut is much happier when I keep wheat and sugar out of my diet. Then…Christmas happened. A “just this once” became “that went ok, this won’t hurt” and before I knew it…I was OD-ing on a regular basis with bread, cookies, pie, cake. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn’t help myself.

I’ve been craving spaghetti all month. The brownies didn’t kill me. The cookies didn’t present too much of an issue. How bad could spaghetti be? Ohhhh, I found out. Spaghetti is about as densely concentrated a source of gluten as you can get and my body finally stood its ground and said , “What the heck do you think you’re doing, lady?! Are you crazy???” My company hadn’t even left before I really began to feel ill…and blue.

It felt like the blues of grief. And, that could be part of it, I’m sure. With the holidays come waves of grief. But I knew I had been pushing the envelope with my wheat and sugar consumption so I did some research. It turns out, according to a study reported in Psychology Today, gluten, wheat, and corn syrup solids can cause anxiety and depression in people with non-celiac gluten sensitivity. Bingo!

When the holidays settle down, we actually return to our normal state and that can feel like the blues. We often feel the same sort of thing when we return to real life from a fabulous vacation. Add gluten sensitivity to the mix and it’s a sure recipe for feeling yucky. It’s time to start back on my clean and green diet again. I’ve never felt…or looked…better than I do when I’m eating right, exercising, drinking plenty of water, and getting enough rest. It’s more than a New Year’s Resolution. It’s a prescription for leading my best life and enjoying it. ❤️

“For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.” And you forgave the guilt of my sin.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭32:4-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Practicing Minimalism

Tue, 26 Dec 2017 02:30:08 -0600

I’ve had opulent Christmases where opening presents was a long, drawn out affair. And, I’ve had lean Christmases where money was scarce. I’ve seldom had a Christmas where we just intentionally bought each other a small gift so we could do something else…in this case, put new carpet in the family room that we recently painted. I have to tell you, it felt good to not have to worry about shopping, wrapping, paying for, and storing more “stuff” while still having a small token to enjoy.

I gave Mr. FixIt a nice weather station that records wind speed and direction, rainfall, temperature and humidity. It’s connected to the WiFi so we can check our weather at home wherever we are through an app on the phone. Kind of fun!

I got a much needed cushion for my banker’s chair and a book commemorating the Centennial of our high school. We had a big breakfast, watched movies, and went for a long drive to look at Christmas lights. Perfect!

And now, Christmas is over for another year. We’ll still have a week of festivities surrounding New Year’s, and then we have that long stretch of cold, grey winter. That’s what does me in. I love the cold and snow…at Christmas. Then I’m ready for March. It’s better now that Mr. FixIt is in the picture. He brings a welcome distraction. I remember the first winter or two after Mr. Virgo died were absolutely miserably long! I think Christmas lights should be left up till at least the end of February to bring light and joy into the night!

We are planning a lot of activities to pass the time till warm weather returns. Hand therapy will take some time. Dinner parties, crafting weekends with the girls, sewing projects. I want to teach Mr. FixIt’s daughter how to knit. Maybe his granddaughters would like to learn, too. There are projects inside that need doing…stripping wallpaper and painting, replacing the backsplash and countertops in the kitchen, replacing some doors and baseboards. Lots to keep us busy.

This is my new life. I still sometimes sit in awe that I have been blessed with another opportunity to love, another family to cherish, another home to care for. It seems surreal after so much loss, so much pain. I swore I would never do this again. Oh….but, I’m SO glad I did. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything! What a blessing this is! ❤️

“Better a little with the fear of the Lord than great wealth with turmoil.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭15:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Santa IS Real

Sun, 24 Dec 2017 02:30:27 -0600

He held three beautiful children on his lap that afternoon in the mall. Three shining faces, looking up at him in rapt attention, their eyes glittering in awe. He’d done this many times over the years…listening to the repeated requests for dolls, trucks, maybe a baby brother or sister once in awhile. It never got old with him. He was born to be Santa!

As the children got up one by one and gave the jolly man a hug, they smiled into the camera for that “Christmas Card shot” and he sent them on their way with a candy cane and a wave. He looked around and saw the line had finally thinned and he could take a much needed break. That’s when he saw her.

A woman stood alone, a fair distance away, but not so far that he missed her tears. Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a few moments.

“What’s this?” he thought. “Something’s up.”

The cocked his head to the side, and without looking away, he moved slightly to his left in the chair, and patted the seat beside him. The woman looked a little startled, as though she might turn and run. But, he softened his shoulders, softened his eyes, and patted again.

The woman gripped the wad of Kleenex in her hand, took a deep breath, and moved cautiously forward. At first, she sat on the stool at his feet with her eyes cast down. She didn’t say a word. He bent forward and whispered.

“Please, sit here. Come up here where I can talk to you.”

The woman dutifully got up and moved to the seat beside him. He could tell she was visibly distraught and he didn’t want to rush her. There was no one in the line and the mall had hit the mid afternoon slump.

The woman began to whisper and he had to lean in close to hear her.

“I lost my husband.” she said. “I need a new heart.” At this point, she burst into tears. He put his arm around her. He pulled her close in to his side and whispered.

“I am so sorry.” There wasn’t much more he could say to that.

The woman struggled and managed to choke out the words. She had lost her husband to a sudden heart attack as they were standing in a travel trailer, picking out one to take them on adventures in retirement. And then he was just gone. She didn’t know how she was going to live without him. It broke his heart.

After a while, the woman regained her composure and apologized.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I must look a fright!” she said.

“You’re perfect.” he whispered as he handed her another Kleenex and they smiled at each other. She got up to leave.

“Will you have your picture taken with me?” he asked.

“Really? I’d love to.” she replied.

As the “elf” handed her the photo, she looked at it and her lip quivered ever so slightly.

“Thank you for stopping.” he said.

“Thank you for being real.” she whispered back.

It’s been five Christmases since I met my Santa. Every year, I send him my letter, telling him what I’ve done this year…things I’ve accomplished, things I still need to do. And I thank him. For being so kind to a grieving widow suffering through her very first Christmas without her love. Santa writes back and tells me his life was forever changed that day and he is so happy to see me doing better every year.

It’s going to be a big letter this year! I get to tell him about Mr. FixIt and how much bigger my family is now after adding 12 more people to it…including a new great granddaughter! I get to tell him about our travels and how we got to spend time with my Colorado family this year and how much I miss them at Christmas.

I think I taught him a lot that year. I taught him just how difficult it is that first year without your love. The second was probably worse. At least, it was for me. If you are struggling with the loss of your loved one, do be gentle with yourself. This is such a fragile time of year. I’m here to say…with time, prayer, hard work, and perseverance, life can get better again. Joy cometh in the morning, the Bible says. And, it does.

Oh, and just in case you’re wondering…Santa IS real. And…he is my friend. ❤️

Dear Santa…

“May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”” ‭‭Ruth‬ ‭2:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Love,

Ginny

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

The Great Snowy Owl

Wed, 20 Dec 2017 02:30:27 -0600

I love how Facebook can bring folks together that may never meet otherwise. That’s the case of Julie Zickefoose and me. When I was writing posts about the spring bird migration at the farm, a mutual friend “introduced” me to Julie. She is an artist and recently came out with a lovely book called Baby Birds. An artist’s view into the nests of birds in the Appalachian foothills of Ohio.

I was especially intrigued this spring when Julie took in a baby blue jay that had ended up on the ground below the nest and whose parents never showed up. She named her Jemima and taught us all how difficult it is to hand raise a wild baby bird. We watched with fascination as she fed her baby chopped up chicken and meal worms. We held our breath as Jemima learned to fly. We watched with mixed emotions as the fledgling was released into the wild, only to return to the safety of “her tree and feeder” time and again. Jemima is fully grown now but her pin feathers didn’t developed correctly because she was hours away from death by starvation when she arrived so she can’t fly very far till she molts next spring and grows new feathers.

Julie recently returned from a long awaited birding trip to Ecuador. On her way to the airport, she heard about a juvenile Snowy Owl that had made its way from the Arctic to the Mid-Ohio Valley, taking up residence along a creek near the mall in our little burg. Upon her return, she spent all day Monday observing the magnificent bird…and all the people who wanted to get close enough to take pictures. She was interviewed on the evening news and cautioned the public to give the bird space to rest. Here is the link to her story that was on her blog yesterday. It’s very well written and gives you the up close view you crave, but with a telephoto lens. I’ve seen a snowy owl once before. I haven’t gone to see this bird. For one thing, I’ve been under the weather all week. But, more importantly, this bird needs its space and it doesn’t need more people disturbing it. I’ll “see” it the same way you do…through Julie’s eyes. ❤️

http://juliezickefoose.blogspot.com/2017/12/parkersburgs-snowy-owl.html

“You may eat any clean bird. But these you may not eat: the eagle, the vulture, the black vulture, the red kite, the black kite, any kind of falcon, any kind of raven, the horned owl, the screech owl, the gull, any kind of hawk, the little owl, the great owl, the white owl, the desert owl, the osprey, the cormorant, the stork, any kind of heron, the hoopoe and the bat.” ‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭14:11-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Modem of the Mind

Tue, 19 Dec 2017 02:30:33 -0600

I really love living out in the country. It’s peaceful. There’s lots of wildlife. It’s a slower life. I like life slow. I don’t like slow internet, however. Being a writer is a beautiful thing…until I’m standing with my cell phone over my head waving it around like a dead chicken, trying to get just…one…more…bar. It can be maddening.

Many of the images I use in my posts are really large…especially since I got my new iPhone. Great camera equals great pictures. Great pictures equals larger file size. That presents two problems. One, Wordpress only accepts files up to a certain size. Two, internet in the country is powered by two squirrels and a possum! It sometimes takes multiple attempts to get a photo or meme down to an acceptable size. That takes time and patience.

I went to the only office supply store in our little corner of the world and asked what I could do to make our internet work at the far end of the house where I write. We tried a booster. That didn’t work. We tried a repeater. That didn’t work either. Finally, I got the manager and he gave me a lesson in how WiFi works.

WiFi, it turns out, is pretty much like your water system. If you have one faucet in your house, every last bit of water pressure is going to send that water out like Old Faithful. However, if you have every faucet in the house turned on, the dishwasher running, a couple of showers, and someone flushes? You’ll be lucky to get a dribble. When we first got WiFi in our houses, we had a desktop computer, and maybe a laptop. Now we have, in this house alone, two iPhones, an iPad, Alexa, a laptop, two computers and a smart TV. It isn’t any wonder we can’t get everything to run well.

As I was driving home from the store after that enlightening conversation, I thought about how my faith journey can be so much like that WiFi. When it’s just me and God, the signal is loud and clear. I feel His presence. I hear His Holy Spirit in my heart. I connect. But when I start plugging in device after device, my connection gets spotty. I start dropping calls. It is not good to keep God on hold. When I have too many “devices” plugged in, like we all do at the holidays, something has to go. And the first thing that went was my health. I caught a cold. I haven’t had a full fledged cold in a really long time. I mean a knock-you-down-and-drag-your-sorry-butt-to-bed kind of cold. This is that kind of cold, darn it.

The good news is, colds are finite. You’re miserable for a few days and it gets better. I’ll be fine by Christmas. But, it IS a reminder to unplug some of those “devices” and spend some one-on-one time with God so my signal is clearer. ❤️

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” ‭‭Revelation‬ ‭3:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Deportment & Etiquette: Useful Skills or Out-of-Date Sexism?

Sun, 17 Dec 2017 02:30:11 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I went Christmas shopping yesterday. As much as I hate to go to Walmart, especially during the holiday shopping frenzy, we went looking for a specific item we weren’t finding elsewhere. When we arrived at the store, I excused myself to the ladies room.

There was a bit of a line, as one might imagine with half the town out and about the weekend before Christmas. The woman in front of me had a full shopping cart of merchandise and a cell phone in her hand. She had the phone on speaker and it was ringing…unanswered. She turned to me and said, “Go ahead…I have to do this.”

In the stall, I overheard the woman leaving a voice mail. I will paraphrase so as to leave the woman unidentifiable.

“Listen, if you insist on hanging up on me in the middle of a conversation…I’ll tell you what. You’re in a nursing home. I just won’t come visit you anymore. How’s that?! Talk to you later, Mommy.”

I was dumbfounded. Who does that? It’s Christmas, for crying out loud. It was more than just being rude to her mother…in a voicemail, mind you. It was being rude, out loud, in a public restroom, where anyone within several feet could overhear. I debated. How should I react? Should I say something? Make eye contact and show my disapproval? Breathe. Breathe. “God, show me what I should do.”

I decided not to say anything. I do not know the whole story. I don’t know if this woman has an issue. Maybe she had a gun? These are the things you think of in 2017. I came out of the stall, made brief eye contact, and said a prayer. “Father God…protect this woman’s mother from the wrath of her child. And bring them both peace and understanding. May they know your love. Amen”

When I was in school, we were taught deportment and etiquette. Every time I put on a coat, I can see the woman on the auditorium stage at Parkersburg High School.

“Grasp the coat by the collar and pull it up and over your right shoulder as you slip your arm in the sleeve. Then, gently reach behind you and slip your left arm into its sleeve. Do NOT swing the coat over your head like a toreador!”

We walked with books on our heads. We learned to sit gracefully without looking like a lumberjack. We learned grace and manners. Yes, please. No, thank you. Yes, ma’am. No, sir. May I? We learned which fork was for salad, which was for dinner and which was for dessert. We learned not to slurp our soup or our tea. We learned to stir the coffee in our cup without making a lot of noise. We learned manners.

This was in the ‘60s and early ‘70s. In our senior year, girls were finally given permission to wear pants to school. And ever so slowly, deportment went out the window with our bras and pencil skirts and Peter Pan collars. There are certain aspects of our “training” that was decidedly sexist. After all, in many ways, we were really being taught how to catch a good man. Good girls acted in a certain way.

This is the year of the woman…2017. Time’s “Person of the Year” is The Silence Breakers…the women of the #metoo movement. Women who have been the victims of sexual harassment, abuse, molestation, rape….many at the hands of powerful and influential men. But, are they really breaking their silence or just…finally, finally, finally being listened to…being heard? We’ve been telling. We’ve been talking. All along, we’ve been talking. And now, people are listening. Is it a perfect thing? No…it’s difficult and ugly and messy. And there are bound to be untruths told. But the majority…the vast majority of the stories told will be true. And far, far too familiar.

Were we trained to be the victims of men? We were told it was better to be seen and not heard. We were taught to keep the peace, don’t rock the boat, be a “good girl”…no matter what. “Boys will be boys.” “Were you drinking?” “Well, look what she was wearing!” Instead, these brave women are saying, “Nothing…NOTHING gives anyone the right to abuse me in anyway. Period.”

I texted my daughter, the high school teacher…my go-to resource when I want to understand the minds of today’s adolescent. I asked her if they teach deportment and manners anymore. She said nothing even remotely close to it. I asked if it was considered sexist. Was there a lack of funding? Was it outdated? Her answer was…outdated. They don’t call it “Home Economics” anymore. It’s “Food Science”, “Cooking”, “Catering”, “Fashion”…all under the title of “Career Technical Education classes.

Ok, I get it. To tell a girl she has to learn to walk straight and tall, to walk in heels, to put her coat on a certain way, may be considered sexist. Especially if young men aren’t being taught the same thing. I get all that. My problem is manners. Common, everyday decency that tells one it isn’t polite to stand in a bathroom at Walmart and threaten your elderly mother who is living in a nursing home. Threatening to stop visiting her if she hangs up on you again. I don’t get that.

There are parents who do a beautiful job raising polite, functional, lovable children who use impeccable manners and they do it without shaming or beating them. I know many of them. But there are so many more who leave it up to an overtaxed educational system to teach their children how to be decent human beings.

I don’t know the answer. Are there any “Emily Posts” left in the world? How do we teach the youth of today that manners are still important? How do we teach respect? I cannot believe that deportment is outdated entirely. It’s not that I am an old fuddy-duddy. I just want the best for our bright and shining future. ❤️

“And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭6:31‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Let’s Take a Ride on the Brain Train

Thu, 14 Dec 2017 02:30:54 -0600

In the early ‘80s, Hubby #2 was just finishing medical school and was about to start his internship and residency. I was working for a four-doctor Internal Medicine clinic as a Diabetes Educator. The wife of one of the doctors I worked for was writing a book about a kind of water exercise called “Flugel Fitness”. She contracted me to illustrate the instruction manual. In the process of working with her, we had lots of conversations about health and wellness. She had a workout studio and I started some weight loss classes for her. I remember having a conversation with her about my situational anxiety surrounding public speaking and she recommended a book by Shakti Gawain called Creative Visualization. I loved that book and read it many times and it did help.

Creative visualization and guided imagery are sort of like meditation. One image helped me feel grounded. I sat in the lotus position and imagined a lightning rod going from the top of my head, down my spine, and sinking deep within the earth. I pictured energy drawing up from the earth and showering out the top of my head and raining down over me. It was all very New Agey.

At this same time, Daughter #1 was about nine or ten years old. She loved for me to tell her stories at bedtime. Reading Shakti’s book gave me an idea. I wanted to see if creative visualization would work to help an active child settle down and fall asleep more easily. So, I created the Brain Train. We went on lots of “trips” on the Brain Train as I described intricate scenarios. It worked beautifully! She would relax and fall asleep much quicker with this type of guided imagery.

I decided to write a children’s book. I made it like a dry erase book with basic background images. The child uses a marker to draw in what they “see” as they ride the Brain Train through the countryside. It was a fun idea and Daughter #1 loved it. I submitted it to dozens of publishers and received dozens of rejections. Then, about a year later, creative visualization for children took off and there were books similar to mine everywhere. I figure I was just too far ahead of my time, right?

When Daughter #2 came along, she had many of the same anxiety issues I’ve struggled with. One day we were looking through some things and she saw the prototype book that I sent to publishers. I told her all about the Brain Train and we started using creative visualization to help her cope with stress. She loved it as much as her older sister.

I don’t get to talk to the girls as often as I’d like these days. They are busy with their lives. But, yesterday I got to talk with Daughter #2 for a lovely, long conversation. The subject of The Brain Train came up and she told me what an important tool that had been for her and how she still uses creative visualization. She said, “Mom, I still have the painting you did for me. It’s hanging in my bedroom.” She sent me this picture. It brings back so many memories of my girls when they were little. Tucking them into bed…warm from a bath, hair still damp, tummies full of milk and cookies. We would hop onboard the Brain Train and soon found ourselves riding through mountains or along the ocean or through a forest. We saw animals of all sizes and colors. Blue elephants, pink giraffes, polka dot monkeys. We crossed bridges and went through long dark tunnels and soon they relaxed and I heard the familiar deep, even breathing of sleep.

What a gift that was…to learn something I did for them…something I really haven’t thought of in ages…had such an impact. It made me feel like I felt when I held them on my lap, brushing their hair from their foreheads, kissing the top of their heads. It made me feel like a mom. I mean…once a mom, always a mom, right? I mean like a real, active, momming mom. It gave me the feels. ❤️

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭19:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Just One More Day With Wanda

Wed, 13 Dec 2017 02:30:25 -0600

Yesterday’s post struck a sad place within my heart so I wanted to take today in a different direction, though in the end…I’m not sure I have. I’ve really loved all the reminiscing we’ve been doing this month. There were certainly Christmases that were difficult for me growing up and I don’t have good memories of them. But most of my holiday memories are all warm and fuzzy.

I ran across this photo the other day on Pinterest. Remember aqua? Mom let me “redecorate” the living room when I was in high school. Man…that woman must have loved me to the core to let me do what I did to her house! First, we bought the aqua sofa. Then I painted the walls a lighter shade of aqua. We found a room sized remnant of a dark aqua shag rug that I put down. I found shiny drapes in the same dark aqua. We bought these blonde wood end tables, probably at Sid’s Furniture. The lamps had odd angles and big shades. The piece de resistance was a big wall clock with an atomic sunburst pattern. OMGosh! It was like living in an aquarium! Too bad we didn’t have this aqua Christmas tree. That would have been a hoot. My poor mom kept that color in her living room till the day she died some 44 years later.

Our kitchen was so small. The walls were pale yellow. We had this same grey Formica table and chairs. The countertop was green with metal trim around the edges. Mom put up sunny yellow curtains with ruffles and it looked so cheery. The bathroom had pink fixtures. Mom let me paint and wallpaper in there sometime in the ‘80s. Remember when peach was a color you painted walls? Turquoise, peach with pink, yellow with green and grey. Lord have mercy. Mom loved it…because I did it. She wouldn’t let me change a thing. Partially because it meant she might have to get rid of stuff and I can absolutely relate to how daunting a chore that is.

It took months to fix it all up after she passed so I could sell her house. She would have loved the changes. I think. Maybe. I loved the new look. It was hard to sell that house when I was done and I’ve regretted the decision ever since.

I miss my mom. I miss our talks every Sunday. I miss her cool hands on my brow. I miss her calling me “Sis”. Or, Virginia Lynne if she was mad at me. I miss her naïveté to the ways of the world. I miss her big, loving heart. I miss making her laugh till she couldn’t catch her breath. I miss her spirit and her attempts at cussing. She couldn’t spit the words out. I miss her loyalty and her generosity. I miss her especially at Christmas. She used to frustrate the heck out of me, which is what moms sometimes do to their daughters, I think. But….oh my. What I wouldn’t give to spend just one more day with Wanda. ❤️

“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.” ‭‭John‬ ‭16:22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Change

Tue, 12 Dec 2017 02:30:30 -0600

One of the hardest things to deal with since losing Mr. Virgo is…change. And of course, that is the one thing you can absolutely count on in this life. Change. Things change. People change. Situations change. And, unfortunately…places change.

I have to tell you, sometimes you have no way of knowing what God has up His sleeve when He leads you down a certain path. Why this way and not that? Sometimes we never figure it out. Other times, it becomes crystal clear. I love those times. Even when they break my heart.

When I first came to West Virginia, it was just a year and a half after losing Mr. Virgo. I lived on the family farm but only for a few weeks. When my aunt decided she really didn’t want help, I went off on my own for a couple years. I never dreamed I’d have the opportunity to come back and be the caretaker of the home of my heart. When my uncle asked me to take care of the place for him, I jumped at the chance.

I know God has a reason behind every move. There was a plan before I was born. I hadn’t really thought about why I got to live at the farm again. Until yesterday. Mr. FixIt and I have noticed a lot of heavy dump trucks going up the road lately. We heard this summer that they’re putting in a compressor station back beyond the farm so we surmised the work had begun. When we got there yesterday, I drove past the farm and went up the back road. It wasn’t long till we saw the signs. “Road Work Ahead” and “Flagger: Prepare to Stop”.

It’s funny. You hear change is coming. You see what other places look like when they change. Yet, you’re completely unprepared when the change comes and it affects your world. I’m a go-with-the-flow kinda gal, but when I saw them cutting into MY earth, MY world, my HEART…it crushed me. I motioned for the flagger to come over. I asked for details. “What are they doing there?” “How far back are they going?” “How long will this take?” He was a young man. Respectful. He seemed to understand this was hurtful to me. He explained carefully what steps they were taking. I sat and stared till the tears stung my eyes then I had to go.

I remember when they clear cut the back of the farm. I felt like this. But, trees grow back. This is a permanent scar that will never heal. As I sat and watched the big dump trucks back out the ridge to be filled with MY earth, the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart.

“This is why you were given this time on the farm. You are here to memorize every inch of the place. You are here to document the passage. You are here to be a witness.”

Change is inevitable. I know that. I’m doing better with change. I don’t like it. And I especially don’t like them messing with the home of my heart. But, I’m also a realist. I’m pragmatic. There is now going to be a paved road out to the back of this ridge. There will be easier access to the workable land and that will improve the value of the farm. That’s the upside. There’s going to be a lot of sound pollution, increased traffic, as well as some environmental risks. That’s the downside.

I’ve always known my time on the farm is limited. I’ll still be taking care of it for the foreseeable future. And I’ll be saying goodbye to what it once was…one truckload of dirt at a time. ❤️

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

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

It’s Ok to Say...No!

Sat, 09 Dec 2017 02:30:49 -0600

The first year of widowhood, absolutely everything was totally overwhelming. I cried my way through the grocery story. I was filled with angst over making decisions as small as getting my hair cut while I easily went out on a three month trip in my little camper. Work was difficult and I made mistakes. I sat through family holidays literally biting the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming. It was so hard.

The second year wasn’t much better for me. Worse, in many ways. Mainly because now I was awake and aware and he was still gone. This, however, was the year I learned to say no. In the tiniest of ways. When I felt overwhelmed during the holiday celebrations, I left the room for a break. And no one made a fuss. No one got mad. No one had a hissy fit. As a matter of fact, I’m not really sure they noticed. And that emboldened me to try saying no more often.

This is the fifth Christmas without Mr. Virgo. You would think after this long, and having a new love in my life, I’d have a handle on this whole grief thing, wouldn’t you? But, I don’t always. Take the last month, for instance. My stress level went through the roof. Mr. FixIt and I started fixing up his house. We had his family over for Thanksgiving. I’m just getting to know them and I really want things to be good. We traveled to see some of my relatives over Thanksgiving. Mr. FixIt traveled and I took care of two homes, five cats, cleaning, decorating and rearranging. Then we had pre-op visits and his surgery. I had a huge change in my health insurance and my bill went up. Not something I planned for. I need new brakes on my truck.

I always go see the kids and grands in Colorado at Christmas. I kept putting off buying my tickets because I didn’t know how this surgery would affect Mr. FixIt. I didn’t know how long it would be till he could drive, cook, even dress himself. Everything piled up and my anxiety was through the roof. Finally, I had a talk with my daughter. I explained my situation and before I could even finish, she said, “Mom, it’s ok. You’ve got a lot on your plate and you have to do what you have to do. The kids are big enough now to understand adult stuff happens and things don’t always work out the way you planned. Don’t worry about it…it’s fine. Really.” And…just like that…the weight fell off my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized how tense I’ve been till I let go of that and sighed.

As it turns out, it’s absolutely the right decision. Mr. FixIt’s surgery went well, but there are things we hadn’t thought of that he can’t do alone. Opening his pill bottles. Washing the dishes. Showering and dressing. I know this man. If I’m not watching, he’ll be trying to do things he should NOT be doing. I told my friend, Gail, I wasn’t going to Colorado. She said, “Family is important. But so are new relationships.”

It’s ok to say no. It’s ok to acknowledge your limits. It’s ok to take care of yourself and not feel guilty. It’s ok not to be the perfect mother, grandmother, lover, friend, wife, sister, colleague. It’s ok to not go to that party. It’s ok to turn down that invitation to the ornament exchange party. It’s ok to back out of something you thought you could do, but when the tie came to do it it just felt too overwhelming. It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.

Yesterday Mr. Fixit and I hung out at the house all day in our jammies. We watched movies. We ate good food. I made homemade vegetable beef soup and hot rolls. We didn’t do a darned thing and that was ok. My stress level dropped exponentially after the surgery was over and I knew I didn’t have to scrape together enough money for a plane ticket in a week or two.

The lesson learned here is…there’s really not much that you absolutely HAVE to do surrounding holidays. We have such great expectations and they seldom pan out the way we imagine them anyway. So, why not just give yourself a break and stop trying to create the perfect holiday? Try these things instead…

Practice saying no once in a while.

Make a cup of tea.

Breathe.

Eat a chocolate.

Read a magazine.

Go for a walk.

Take a nap.

Send a card.

Watch your favorite movie.

Take a bubble bath.

Light candles in the evening.

Call a friend.

Draw a picture.

Knit.

Bake cookies.

Watch the snow fall.

Go for a drive.

Donate to charity.

Listen to music.

Get a massage.

Pray.

Self care. It’s not selfish. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Reduce your holiday expectations. Just say…”No…no, thank you. I’d love to another time. Thank you so much for asking but I’m stretched so thin right now, I need to practice some self care.” Be honest. Tell the truth. Just. Say. No.

“Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health, as it goes well with your soul.” ‭‭3 John‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Coming Home

Fri, 08 Dec 2017 02:30:04 -0600

I lived in England in 1973 and 1974. My first husband was in the Air Force and stationed over there. When he was transferred stateside to his next duty station, my baby and I flew to West Virginia to spend Christmas with my family. When I flew over to England, I traveled commercial. But when I came home, I flew military transport.

There were several people from the base he was stationed at who were traveling with me. Another mother with her two little ones. Two young Airmen. We traveled for three days before I arrived…exhausted…at my mom’s house. The first day was spent driving in a small VW van to a base up north. The second day was spent waiting…waiting…waiting for a plane to be ready. Once we boarded, we sat on the tarmac for six whole hours before we took off.

My baby was using cloth diapers, and you can well imagine, I was running out of clean ones before I got home to West Virginia. She was also drinking formula that I had to carry with me. She slept all the way across the Atlantic. I however, did not. By the time we began our final descent at Fort Dix, I was becoming really emotional. I cannot properly express how I felt when I looked out the windows of the plane and saw the American flag flying over American soil. I felt so proud…so relieved…so honored…so exhausted.

Yesterday was Pearl Harbor Day. There are fewer and fewer people still living who were there that day or who listened to the radio broadcasts stateside. I know what I felt combing home. I can’t imagine what people who have experienced war must feel when their feel finally touch the soil of “home”. I know it’s a day late, but I would like to honor those who served…and continue to serve. Those who spend the holidays away from their loved ones so that we may enjoy the privileges we have here in this country. Thank you. God bless you and your loved one. ❤️

“Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you."” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭28:15‬ ‭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

The Rheostat

Sun, 03 Dec 2017 02:30:28 -0600

When Daughter #2 was born, I had the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom. Her sister, and only sibling, turned sixteen and got her driver’s license just a few months after she was born. So, I had a lot of time on my hands to devote to the baby. I knew this would be my last child so I read all the parenting books and nurtured her learning from the get go. As a matter of fact, I placed headphones on my tummy and played Mozart and Beethoven to her in utero. Yes, I was “one of THOSE” moms.

Daughter #2 was precocious. She could READ the alphabet at seventeen months. She knew the names of all her body parts, by their anatomical terms. She spoke complete sentences early. She was a beast! Fierce. Determined. Focused. I had flash cards on the wall by the changing table. We would talk about what it was and what it meant and how you spell it and how you pronounce it.

Because of all this exposure to knowledge, this baby was powerfully curious. She pointed at everything and wanted to know what it was, how it worked, and what you used it for. One afternoon, I caught her staring intently at something from her high chair. I followed her gaze. She was looking at the dimmer switch. Soon she looked at me and asked “Whassat?” It was her FAVORITE question! She asked it hundreds of times a day.

I explained to her that it was a dimmer switch, but the thing that makes it work is called a rheostat. I took her outside and showed her the electric lines coming into the house. I told her about electricity. And I told her how a rheostat slows down or speeds up the waves in the electricity and that changes the light from dim to bright to dim at will. After that, wherever we went, she demanded to know if our host or hostess had a rheostat. My friends rolled their eyes at me. “Would you let her be a kid, for crying out loud?” I should have, probably. My daughter struggled because the other kids just didn’t “get” her. She had trouble relating to kids her own age. She’s turned out fine…it just wasn’t easy for her.

Life can be like a rheostat. We can turn up the frequency and shine light out into the world. Or we can turn it down and sit in the dark. There’s something really cool about the light, though. Darkness cannot overcome the light. Only light can overcome darkness. Keep shining your light out into the world. Keep the darkness at bay. Constantly tell the enemy he is not welcome here. Show him your light. Tell him Who you get that light from. Send him packing. Remember your rheostat when you feel down…and turn it up! ❤️

“When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭8:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

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

Johnny and Punkin Spice

Fri, 01 Dec 2017 02:30:37 -0600

I have this friend. She’s one of those wonderful shining stars that God places on this earth to be a guardian of animals. I am convinced she is an “angel unawares”. I met Aimee through a high school friend. They were talking at a conference once and Aimee told her about this great group of women campers she belonged to called…Sisters on the Fly. Diane couldn’t wait to hook us up. And I am so glad she did. I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with Aimee. As a matter of fact, I believe we have only seen each other in person two or three times. But it’s always “old home week” when we greet each other like long lost friends.

Not only are Aimee and I “Sisters”…we are also fellow West Virginians. And darned proud of it, I might say. Aimee works for the state and created the COOLEST soil trailer. It’s a cargo trailer that she converted on the inside to give you a “worm’s eye view” of what it looks like in the ground. So, she’s an animal activist, she hauls a soil trailer all over the state to teach kids about the earth, she’s a Sister on the Fly, and a farmer, and she creates beautiful art pieces that she sells at some of the big decorator barn sales. On top of that, she’s beautiful, funny, and I just love her to pieces. Because she saved Johnny’s life.

Johnny was a rescue. Terribly ill, he was essentially a lost cause. The vet didn’t think he could possibly live. But Aimee found out about him (I think she’s on speed dial at the animal rescue) and scooped him up. She sat up with Johnny for days, snuggling him in blankets, taking him in for infusions and tests practically every day. He kept getting sicker and sicker. He was a rescue…but he had wriggled into her heart and she couldn’t give up on him. One night, they made a desperate trip to see the vets at the university in Columbus. It took a while, but they finally diagnosed Johnny with a rare disease that affects his joints. If they could just get him through, things would get better for him and he would live a pretty normal life. But there were no guarantees. They pleaded and prayed and now…look at him! He’s so beautiful. All of us fell madly in love with him and Aimee is great at recording his life for his fan base.

This fall, Aimee was driving down the street in her truck when she saw something very tiny in the road. It was a kitten! And there was a man in a truck alongside the road. The kitten was trying desperately to get in the truck but the man just sat and stared at it. Without thinking, Aimee jumped out, stopped traffic, scooped up the kitten, and ran back across the busy highway. She yelled at the man. “Didn’t you see that kitten?” He just shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.” Oh, he knew alright! He had more than likely dumped that baby right before Aimee drove by. God puts angels right where he needs them, doesn’t He?

This little kitten went to work with Aimee every day as she fostered it. She socialized her and made sure she had all her shots and took extra special care of her in hopes she would forget all about the bad man in the truck. What sent us over the moon was how much Johnny loved his kitty. HIS kitty. Oh…how Johnny LOVES kitties! He would cry and cry until Aimee gave him the kitten. Then she had to sit with him and tell him over and over…”Easy, Johnny. You have to be gentle. Easy. Easy.” Johnny knew, the only way he could have his baby was if he laid down very still…then Aimee would place this tiny little fur ball under this big boxer boy. He laid so still…but his tail pounded the bed like a drum.

Eventually, the kitty found her way to a forever home with a boy to play with. We were all SO worried about Johnny. How would he handle losing his baby? Aimee posted pictures of Johnny with his other kitties. His mommy knows when she has reached the number of animals she can responsibly care for. She did the right thing. And she knows Johnny better than any of us. She knew he would be fine. It’s as if Johnny knew he was only a temporary caregiver for this little baby.

We can learn so much from Johnny. Patience, kindness, caring…unconditional love. He doesn’t care that the kitten isn’t like him. All he knows is…here is someone who needs love and he has love to give.

You never know what kind of stray Aimee will attract next. Right now she is fostering a dog with cancer who is legitimately psychotic. They are trying to figure out how to help her. If anyone can, it’s our divine farm girl…the Dirt Queen. Thank you, Aimee…for having such a huge heart. You are so loved and there are many stars in your crown. ❤️

““But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind. Does not the ear test words as the tongue tastes food? Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?” ‭‭Job‬ ‭12:7-12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Shift

Wed, 29 Nov 2017 02:30:12 -0600

The earth shifted yesterday. Did you feel it? I did. Mr. FixIt is about halfway through his guy getaway to Florida with his buddy and I’ve been staying at his house…feeding cats, cleaning, decorating, rearranging. It’s been great fun.

For those of you who have been following from the beginning, I downsized and got rid of ninety-five percent of my personal belongings when I sold my house in 2014. I brought those things to West Virginia that I could not part with. A friend has been so kind as to let me store them in his basement all this time. I went over a couple of weeks ago and brought a whole truckload over to Mr. FixIt’s house. The Christmas decorations were all put out so yesterday, I got into the boxes of decorator items. A pink Fenton hurricane lamp, an antique cast iron rabbit doorstop, some quilts, my raven decoy, a sign that says “Kindness Matters”…these found themselves mingled with Mr. FixIt’s memories. Looking at the finished project, they could have all been purchased together for just the same house

I went back into the storage room and lugged the heaviest box to the kitchen. This is where I felt the shift. Do you sense what’s happening here? I’m nesting. The lines of “yours” and “mine” are blurring. Nowhere did I feel this as much as when I opened that heavy box. It was filled with china. Precious cargo that has been carted from one side of the country to the other…never seeing the light of day.

One winter day, what seems like a lifetime ago, Mr. Virgo and I were shopping for a tablecloth. When I caught up with him, he was standing in front of a display of china. He was studying something intently so I followed his gaze. When I saw what he was looking at, I gasped out loud. Royal Doulton’s “Tennyson”. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. And, six months later, I got eight place settings for my birthday. I sat down and cried like a little girl. I’d never had anything so…fine.

Those dishes were packed away in 2014 when I sold my house. Yesterday…I carefully unwrapped each one, inspecting them for chips or cracks. They were perfect. I carefully hand washed and dried each piece and set them out on the dining room table in Mr. FixIt’s house. I thought about how far I have come in the nearly five years since Mr. Virgo died.

Mr. FixIt and I still have an unconventional relationship. He has his place, I am taking care of the family farm. We stay a little here, a little there. We travel, and we stay apart a little. It works for now.

I am so blessed that Mr. FixIt gets me. He’s an angel…tolerant of many things. And he’s thrilled to spend whatever time he can with me. The feelings are mutual. ❤️

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain…” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭127:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Stick Tree

Tue, 28 Nov 2017 02:30:45 -0600

You’ve all seen that spindly little Christmas tree Charlie Brown had, right? Basically a stick with some twigs branching off. As far back as I can remember, that was the tree out at the farm. My Uncle Bob was a simple man. When he was told to go cut down a pine tree for Christmas, he did just that. And being a practical man, he brought back one that was easy to carry and would not take long to decorate. He was the smartest of the bunch, turns out.

Grandma didn’t have a lot of ornaments. I remember some of those made by Shiny Bright. There was a very old hand blown Santa that my fat baby fingers accidentally broke one year. sigh And, there was an angel that went on the top of the tree. Her dress was made of vinyl with a net skirt over it. Her upper torso, arms, and head were like a doll made of hard plastic. Her hair was spun glass. And her wings were silver pressed cardboard. Somehow, I managed to acquire that angel. I suppose because I’m the oldest grand daughter and got married first, I don’t know. But that angel has been with me forever. She is too fragile to put on top of a tree…I’m afraid the cardboard tube that slips over a branch might break. So, she gets tucked in a place of prominence on the front of the tree…up high enough to avoid any encounters with two or four-legged children.

We always had a big, fat tree at home that my dad bought at a lot. I remember the excitement of driving around looking at Christmas lights then stopping at the lot to pick out our tree. I wore a woolen coat buttoned up to my neck, someone’s hand-me-down, I’m sure. I had a blue velvet hat that tied under my chin with blue satin ties. And, hanging on one side we’re two white balls made of real rabbit fur. I remember shaking my head back and forth to feel them bounce around. I wore that hat till it literally disintegrated. I wore rubber boots that fit over my shoes and buckles with an elastic string over a button.

Dad would walk us up and down the aisles to choose the perfect tree…i.e. the cheapest without too many holes in it. Once the price was negotiated, an attendant would help Dad carry the tree to the Oldsmobile and strap it to the top with sisal rope. Once we got it home, there was trimming to be done before we could take it in the house. We had strings of lights with big reflectors that went on before screwing the big bulb in. This was a safety feature that kept the needles from touching the hot bulb and catching fire. And many of the ornaments hanging on my tree that I so carefully preserve were placed on those big, fat trees at the house on 55th Street.

I remember feeling so sorry for Grandma and her skinny little Charlie Brown tree. Now I look back and appreciate the simplicity with a fervor. I use an artificial tree now. The first one I’ve had since Mr. Virgo died. I opted for a slender one. I thought I’d be putting it in front of the window at the farm. Instead, it’s over here at Mr. FixIt’s. I never would have dreamed. This is the fifth Christmas without Mr. Virgo. To have found this new love and new joy and renewed zest for life is something I am profoundly grateful for.

It’s the simple things I crave now. Things held by loved ones long gone. Gentle, loving companionship. Soft music. A warm fire. Good food. And a loving God that made all this possible for me. I am richly blessed. ❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:13‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Mon, 27 Nov 2017 02:30:52 -0600

I think this is my all-time favorite Christmas ornament. It’s been in my family as long as I can remember. I have a dozen or so of the smaller ones of the same era but this is the only big one that survived. I can still remember the box it came in. I am always extremely careful with all my ornaments when I store them, but this one especially so. It is so fragile and the paint has been flaking away for years.

There are so many ornaments on this tree that have a story. Baby’s First Christmas. The angel topper from Grandma’s tree. Hand blown glass Santas. A sterling silver tree that was a gift to Mr. Virgo from The Ritz Carlton in 2011. An Old World Santa with the tip of his Christmas tree broken off that Mr. Virgo rescued from the trash at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen. Dozens of coveted hand made ornaments gathered from my friend Judy’s famous Christmas Ornament Exchange Parties. And, the seven Ne’Qua ornaments Mr. Virgo and I bought together on our trips…one for every Christmas we shared.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I found an e-mail the other day where Mr. Virgo had asked me to get our Christmas decorations and stage them in the living room so we could put up our tree that weekend. We always put on White Christmas and decorated the tree together. The first Christmas after he died, I followed the tradition. I did fine until I got up the next morning and saw what I had done. I can’t tell you how close I came to taking the whole thing down and putting it away. I cried for days. It was brutal. The next Christmas was spent in my friend’s apartment, sitting in the dark, staring out the window as the snow slowly drifted down through the circles of light around the old fashioned street lamps of Marietta, Ohio. It was still brutal.

The next two Christmases were spent with my Colorado family. That was much better. We decorated the tree together and baked a million cookies. It was fun.

Each holiday season is a little easier. Last year, even though we weren’t together, Mr. FixIt and I had started dating and had fallen in love. Holidays were again filled with light and love and joy. Mr. Virgo was still there with us in spirit but the sadness of his absence had abated somewhat. This year, Mr. FixIt and I did the majority of the tree trimming before he left for Florida. I finished up last night. I’m actually glad I had those few hours decorating alone. I turned on Christmas carols. (I can’t figure out how to turn on Mr. FixIt’s DVD player. ?) I held each special ornament in my hands and thought of the person who made it, or where I got it, or who was there when it was used year after year. The Ghosts of Christmas Past paraded through the room and through my mind and heart as I smiled through the tears that stung the back of my eyes as Tony Bennett crooned The Christmas Song.

This is a new life…a different life. Another chance at love. Another gift of making memories. My heart is full to overflowing with the beauty of it all. God has been so good to me…us. ❤️

“A cheerful heart is good medicine…” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:22‬ ‭NIV‬‬

O Christmas Tree

Sun, 26 Nov 2017 02:30:10 -0600

Last Christmas, Mr. FixIt and I had just been dating a few weeks and December found us traveling in opposite directions. He went to Florida with his buddy and a few days later, I went to Colorado for a month with my kids. That’s the longest we’ve been apart since our first date and we neither one liked it. That’s when I figured things were pretty serious between us.

Right around Christmas, I was talking to him on the phone, lamenting that I didn’t get to put up a tree and have a Country Christmas at the farm. When I pulled in the driveway upon my return, I stopped in my tracks. While I was gone, this sweet man had decorated the farmhouse for me to come home to. Not only that, but he was standing there in his grey wool trousers, black dress shoes, a white shirt, and a red sweater vest. He looked so sharp and my heart nearly exploded! What a sweet and generous thing for him to do. He also bought me an indoor lighted Christmas tree, but we didn’t put it up because it was almost New Year’s when I got back from my trip. So, this is the first year we have a tree together.

Someone mentioned they wanted to see a picture and someone else wanted to know about the mechanical angel, so I decided to post a video for you this morning. I still have ornaments to put on but didn’t get home till late last night so I’ll decorate more today.

I went to the funeral yesterday. As it turns out, Sis wasn’t just my grandma’s friend and neighbor. We were related…through marriage. I’ve told you before, you can’t throw a stick up this holler without hitting someone I’m related to. I got to see several cousins and met Sis’s son. He’s been my Facebook friend for ages. It’s such a small, small world.

I am so relieved that I can attend a funeral service now without wigging out. My friend’s son was killed in an accident a year or so ago. Another friend took one look at me during the visitation and said, “Let’s go.” She got me out in the air and my heart started beating again. You certainly don’t LIKE going to funerals, but you have to be able to express condolences without flipping out and it took me a while to get there. For the longest time, I seriously felt like I was just one crisis away from losing it altogether. That “one crisis theory” hung over my head like Damocles’ sword which increased my anxiety exponentially. Full blown grief is about as close to flat out crazy as you can get. I didn’t know if “I” would ever come back. Thank God I did. I couldn’t live like that forever.

My sweetie is gone for his annual Florida guy’s trip so I’m spending the week catching up with “back burner” things…stuff I put off because it’s much more fun to go play with my bestest buddy. I need to be pretty productive this week! ❤️

“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭9:6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It’s Small Business Saturday

Sat, 25 Nov 2017 02:30:30 -0600

I avoid Black Friday like the plague. There is nothing in this whole wide world I…or anyone I know…need bad enough to risk life and limb for. I know there are great deals. I know the color glossies and TV commercials have been pumping everyone with the next great thing they can’t live without. I’m fortunate in that my kids were raised Jewish. They got a little present every night, then one big one on the last night of Hanukkah. They also had Santa but there was only one really extravagant year that I can remember. My kids and grandkids are frugal. They would much rather have money and go shopping at the after Christmas sales. More bang for their buck!

I have everything I need. I buy myself a plane ticket every year and go see my Colorado family. I don’t want anything I have to take care of or dust. This year, Mr. FixIt and I have decided instead of getting each other presents for Christmas, we’re going to carpet the family room. We’ll get much more enjoyment out of that than any appliance or sweater. And, it’s the gift that keeps on giving! I encourage you to shop small, hometown, mom & pop businesses this year. Big box stores may have better deals on cheaper goods…but they don’t have the vested interest in you personally that a small business owner has. I’ve owned my own business before…I know. This month makes or breaks a small business. Do your best to keep your money local.

I have a funeral to go to today. Sis Strickling passed away. That’s not her first name, nor is this her last name…my family always just called her Sis “Stricklin’”. She was born and raised on the country road a couple miles from the farm. Always sweet and with a smile on her face, my favorite memories of her were at the little one room church house where Grandma went. Sometimes she would come over to the farm for a visit while I was there. She kept her house neat and tidy. After her husband passed away, she went to Ohio to be with her kids. Her memory went at the end and I know it was so hard for her family. I praise God that he gives us an eternal home with no pain, no tears, and no illness. I know her husband and loved ones who went before her met her with open arms.

It took the longest time for me to be able to go to a funeral after Mr. Virgo died. I wasn’t sure I would ever go to another one, but surprisingly…it’s BECAUSE he died that I can go easily now. If I begin to get anxious, I remind myself I am doing this for the loved ones. This has nothing to do with me…it’s all about them. I was so touched by everyone who came to my husband’s funeral. Their presence meant more to me than they will ever know. I remember so few individuals, but I do remember a sea of faces and that equates to a boatload of love. That love helped me through, so that’s why I go to funerals now.

Mr. FixIt and I put up the Christmas tree last night. It’s our first one together. Blending traditions gave us ample opportunities to discuss and compromise. He wanted the tree in the dining room where you could see it from the road. I wanted it in the family room where WE could see it. We compromised by moving furniture around so we could put the tree in front of the picture window in the family room. This way we can see it from the side road coming in AND while we’re sitting in the family room. I’ll put lights in the dining room window so he can see it from the big road. Even through the top branches of the tree were pretty tippy, the mechanical angel HAD to go on top. I managed to wedge the branches around enough to support her and she is beautiful. Melding…it’s what you do when you keep adding to your family. At this point, if we got everyone I’m related to through marriages together, that would be one huge family portrait. I am so, so blessed to add so many branches to my family tree. ❤️

“May the Lord our God be with us as he was with our ancestors; may he never leave us nor forsake us.” ‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭8:57‬ ‭NIV‬‬

And So...It Begins

Fri, 24 Nov 2017 02:30:07 -0600

The other day I found myself with a little time on my hands and stopped at the Blennerhassett Hotel for a Starbucks. The Easter Seal Parade of Trees was on display so I took my coffee and wandered among the holiday decorations, getting inspiration. There were some stunning trees this year. The trees are decorated by volunteers, sponsored by local businesses, and auctioned off to the highest bidder. It’s a wonderful fund raiser for the Easter Seal Society and helps provided needed services for area physically and developmentally disabled children.

I grew up going to the Easter Seal Treatment Center. My big brother was born with cerebral palsy and went to therapy every week. He had physical, occupational, and speech therapy for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories was a play table with little doors. You went in and the door shut after you. It was designed to allow children with disabilities to stand up for a period of time. There were toys and puzzles you could play with on the table in front of you, but what really stuck with me was the milk and cookies we got at snack time. Even though I had no need of these services, I was allowed to attend many of the sessions because I totally understood my brother’s speech when others found it difficult.

Mom learned to drive when my brother was first starting therapy so she didn’t have to rely on my dad to get us to school and therapy at the end of the day. I’ll never forget my mom’s friend Elaine trying to teach her to drive. I sat in the back as mom drove around and around City Park. At one point, we ran up an embankment and nearly hit a tree. Mom put her head down on the steering wheel and cried. She kept saying, “I can’t. I can’t do it!” And Elaine would pat her arm and say, “Wanda…you have these kids to take care of. Of course you can do this. Now, let’s try again.”

Elaine was a saint. And…so was my mom. I look back now at what her life was like and I’m in awe of her. I wasn’t always a supportive child and I sure wish she was here now to receive this new appreciation I feel for her.

Christmas is such a special time of year. I love bringing beauty and light into the long, dark nights of winter. We came back last night from our Thanksgiving visit with my family and will work today to get some decorating done before Mr. FixIt leaves for Florida on Saturday. This will be our second Christmas together…my fifth without Mr. Virgo. Bittersweet becomes more and more sweet with time.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I ate a lot, loved on my family, and took a nap!!! ❤️

“You’ll take afternoon naps without a worry, you’ll enjoy a good night’s sleep.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:24 ‭MSG‬‬

With Gratitude

Thu, 23 Nov 2017 10:36:49 -0600

It’s deer season in West Virginia and I bagged my first deer yesterday. Unfortunately, it was with Mr. FixIt’s 2007 Tundra. There was no stopping and I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I didn’t swerve. I held steady. Fortunately, there’s not much damage to the truck but we will have to replace the bumper. I’ve never hit a deer before. One fell down in front of me once but I drove right over it and it jumped up and ran away. I am grateful we weren’t injured and the damage was minimal.

The other night, Mr. FixIt and I were having dinner and talking about Old Mama Kitty being gone. He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and asked, “You don’t suppose she wandered into the cellar house when you were in there last week and got trapped, do you?” OMGosh! The look on my face must have been pure horror. He looked at me with such compassion and said, “Don’t worry…we’ll go right back out there and check.” We drove the twenty-two miles and I ran up to the building and checked but she wasn’t there. Im sad she is gone but I’m grateful I didn’t accidentally trap her and keep her from food and water.

We visited my mom’s sister and brother and his wife yesterday. My aunts are having memory issues and my uncle is caring for them. So far they’re holding their own. Actually, the aunt whose dementia is really bad was having a pretty good day. She recognized me and told me she had been worried about me. She put her arm around my neck and pulled me close. She told me she loved me. She waved goodbye with a smile. I am grateful to have made that connection with my aunt.

My uncle regaled us with funny stories all evening…one of which I thought to record. He told the story about the day they rolled the old farmhouse I’m living in down onto the new basement they built. We all laughed. I am grateful for this man’s strength, courage, and sense of humor. Most of all, I’m grateful for his heart…it is full of love!

I am grateful for my Colorado family. They are healthy and happy and enjoying their lives. My brother is doing well. I’ve more than doubled my family since bringing Mr. FixIt into my life. More people to love!

I am grateful to all of you for making a little space in your lives for my words. You all bless me every day. Thank you for indulging me in my stories. May you all be richly blessed.

Happy Thanksgiving! ❤️

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭100:1-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

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

My Accidental Love

Tue, 21 Nov 2017 02:30:28 -0600

Old Mama Kitty is gone. I haven’t seen her in six days. She’s always at the back door, right at supper time. There were a couple of times this summer when she was gone for a day or two, but never six. She’s old. I know that. Just this fall, she seemed to be telling me she was tired. She has one leg that trembles sometimes…and not necessarily because of a chill in the air.

Being a farm cat, Mama is tough. She doesn’t take any guff from the younger boy cats. If they get too close to her feeding dish, she has no problem swatting them away…claws and fangs bared. They give her a wide berth on the front porch, arcing around her, well out of kitty reach with sly glances from the corner of their eyes. She has probably been to the vet once in her life and that was when she was spayed. She’s never been sick that I know of. She will act like she wants you to pet her, then she swats you if you linger too long. She’s one tough kitty.

I thought we’d lost her back in 2014 when I first came to the farm. I walked down to the road to get the mail and coming back, there…by the end of the driveway…was a yellow cat that had been hit by a car. I came up to the house to get my work gloves and a shovel. My aunt was still living on the farm at the time. I went to her and told her I was sorry, but Old Mama Kitty was hit by a car and was gone. I went back down and picked up the cat to take it up by the barn to bury it when…I saw the evidence. This was definitely NOT Old Mama Kitty. This was a boy! I wish I would have had the wherewithal to check that out before I told my aunt.

I had only had one cat in my life before coming to the farm. Ginger was yellow with deep gold stripes. I didn’t seem to be allergic to her as a teenager but the older I got, the more indoor cats bothered me. Ginger went to another home when I moved to England after I was married. Mom hadn’t wanted a cat in the first place. She just tolerated her for me.

I’ve always been more of a dog person. Dogs are easy to understand. Feed them. Throw the ball. Scratch the good places. Go for walks. They will worship the ground you walk on. Dogs have owners. Cats have staff. You are extra special if a cat loves you. It means you’ve met the criteria.

The problem with pets is, unless you own a large bird or a turtle, they are going to die before you. And every time a pet dies, they take more of your heart away. I’ve had to put four dogs down in my lifetime. It kills me.

I don’t want to think of Mama Kitty as “gone”. But, this is what happens with farm animals sometimes. They seem to know when it is their time, I think. I feel a little guilty though. I’ve been away a lot the last couple of weeks helping Mr. FixIt clean and paint his house. I was at the farm every day to feed the cats and spend time with them. Then, six days ago, she just wasn’t there. I called and called and called. It’s sad because I really came to love her. She’s been around forever. She was my Uncle Bob’s cat. He died in 2005. It’s like losing a family member. I know there is still a slim chance she could come back, but I really think it’s time to let her go.

Pope John Paul II stated that animals have souls and are important beings in God’s creation. And, since souls can go to heaven, it isn’t a stretch to picture our pets running and jumping on us when we get there. I hope to see all my fur babies when I get there!

I inherited Old Mama Kitty with the farm. She was my accidental love. And…I’ll really miss her. ❤️

“His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭25:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

You Never Know

Mon, 20 Nov 2017 02:30:47 -0600

You buy a desk…you need a chair, right? And not just any chair. I wanted an old banker’s chair. I found one on Facebook Marketplace. I went to pick it up Saturday. The woman I spoke with over the phone was lovely. I felt comfortable meeting her to pick up the chair.

The house was back away from the road…the quintessential farm house. White with green shutters, a long covered porch. As soon as I drove up to the house, the garage door opened and I was greeted by a middle-aged woman. I’ll call her June. June directed me to the chair and helped bring it out to the truck. We stood in the driveway and chatted for the longest time. This was her parents’ place, she told me. Her dad died in July and her mom is starting the daunting process of downsizing. I told her my heart is with her in her loss…then I told her about Mr. Virgo. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she said, OMGosh! You write a blog! You’re Marshmallow Ranch!

This always slays me when someone knows me. And I always go through a little mental inventory of my behaviors leading up to the moment of recognition. You never know who you might be talking to. I have a certain self-imposed regulation. I want to always put my best foot forward and exemplify good Christian values. It was wonderful to make June’s acquaintance.

The family dinner party was wonderful. The only mishap was forgetting to take the candied yams out of the oven to serve. The company was delightful. I cooked for three days and I was exhausted when I posted this so I’ll catch up more with you tomorrow. ❤️

“She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:27-29‬ ‭NIV

Almost Heaven...Homemade Apple Pies!

Sun, 19 Nov 2017 02:30:46 -0600

One of the happiest places in the world for me is a kitchen. I used to bake competitively and had a huge kitchen back then. My last house had a rather small galley kitchen but I still managed to bake several times a week as Mr. Virgo had a sweet tooth. When I sold that house after his death, I lived much of the next three years in my camper. I don’t know if you have ever tried to bake in a camper oven but they are nothing like a home stove. The bottom of everything burned and I gave up trying to bake anything. There is a big country kitchen at the farm, but I traveled so much this last year, I really didn’t cook all that much. I kind of got out of the baking habit.

We’re having our early Thanksgiving dinner with Mr. FixIt’s family today. I actually started cooking Friday evening. I cooked a bag of cranberries and put them in the fridge in a covered container. I have the sweet potatoes parboiled and in the fridge ready to assemble with butter and brown sugar today. The fresh green beans and ham have been cooked and will just need reheated. Yesterday I fried bacon and added chopped pecans and dried cranberries. I parboiled Brussels sprouts and tossed them with the bacon mixture in my huge electric skillet, then put the whole thing in the fridge. I mixed up two pans of dressing…one sage, the other with nuts and cranberries…sealed them with foil and put them in the fridge as well. Then I made two pumpkin pies and two apple pies.

Today I have to bake a 20-pound turkey and a ham, hot rolls, the two pans of dressing, and the sweet potatoes. I’ll heat everything else up and time it all to be ready at 4:00. The table is set. The ice is made. We are expecting thirteen for dinner. I’ve got this!

The family room is finished. It took three coats of Kilz and two coats of Valspar with primer to cover that dark green but we got it done. I didn’t get curtains made in time for dinner, but that will come soon enough. I sat there enjoying the fruits of our labor, listening to soft music in the background as I wrote this. It was very warm yesterday…nearly 70, but rain came in at dusk and it will continue to get colder as the week progresses.

All but the most stubborn of leaves have fallen now, the color all but gone. I have such vivid memories of going out to the farm for Thanksgiving dinners and having it look just like this. It’s funny how our senses take us back so quickly, isn’t it? The sights, sounds, and smells transport me over six decades and brings me so close to my mom and my grandma. I miss them both so much. And I miss my Colorado family. The grandchildren are growing so fast. I always say this, but I wish Colorado and West Virginia were closer. It’s hard when your heart has two homes. ❤️

“She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:15-17‬ ‭NIV

It’s Just a Phase

Fri, 17 Nov 2017 02:30:27 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I graduated from the same high school class. Our classmates started gathering once every two or three months for dinner. We are “of an age” where loss is too real and we want to enjoy each other while we can. Last night was just such a gathering…and it was wonderful. There were forty-two of us…our largest gathering yet outside of an actual class reunion.

Being the social butterfly that I am, I went from table to table to visit so I could speak with everyone, at least for a few minutes. Some of these people I’ve known since first grade. They are all Important to me, whether I’ve known them forever or not. Some of my dearest friends were talking about Mr. FixIt and I. One of them mentioned I’m in a new phase. She wasn’t crazy about my “I downsized so you all should too” phase. lol I don’t blame her…I can beat a subject to death sometimes.

We’re having a dozen or so family members over for an early Thanksgiving Sunday. The family room is nearly finished. Another coat of Kilz on the second door then the trim color can go on. A little touch up here and there, then up comes the tape and drop cloths, a good vacuuming, and move the furniture back then I can start cooking.

Yes, this IS a new phase. Not totally uncharted territory. I’ve been in relationships before. I’ve nested and played house and been Susie Homemaker. This time around is different somehow. It’s more deliberate…easing into it, savoring each moment like a fine French wine or an aged Camembert. Feeling the silky smoothness of love and fun and laughter and even the serious moments. I love this phase. Remember how you wanted to stop your kids at three…at least for a while? Three-year-olds are perfect. They have gained some reasoning skills and they are sweet as sugar. That’s how this feels. I want it to just be like this…forever and always. I’m a realist…and a dreamer. ❤️

“The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride. Do not be quickly provoked in your spirit, for anger resides in the lap of fools. Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions. Wisdom, like an inheritance, is a good thing and benefits those who see the sun.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:8-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Things That Make Me Smile

Thu, 16 Nov 2017 02:30:12 -0600

I was rummaging around in the basement out at the farm the other day, looking for painting supplies, when I saw the old stove in this great light and had to stop and capture it. I’m not sure why my Grandma did most of her canning down in the basement. I know this past summer the basement was so humid mold was growing on everything. I had to buy a dehumidifier to put down there to keep the humidity below 50%. When she got this baby cranked up with a canner full of boiling water (not to mention the wringer washer) the condensation literally ran down the walls.

There is a good-sized triangular patch of ground across the creek from the house that was the truck garden. This was where most of the vegetables for the table were grown. The canning vegetables, as well as the strawberries for the farmer’s market, were grown back up on the hill. There was a footbridge that crossed the creek to the garden. My uncle ran an electric fence around the garden to keep the deer out. Grandma grew a ton of green beans, corn, cabbage, cucumbers, onions, and tomatoes in that little patch of ground. The potatoes were grown on a similar, though much smaller, triangular patch along the end of the driveway. I spent many hours stringing beans and shucking corn, scalding and peeling tomatoes, and helping any way I could on canning days.

One year we drove all the way to Virginia to buy peaches. I remember they were as big as softballs. Mom was helping Grandma can them and neither one knew the other had stirred sugar into the syrup to pour over them in the jars. When they opened the first jar later on, they were sickeningly sweet. Mom felt so bad…she thought she had ruined Grandma’s beautiful peaches. But Grandma said, “Sis, don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll just make us some peach butter and not have to add any sugar.” They cooked them down and that was the best peach butter ever!

Now, this old stove stands silently in a back corner of the basement…rusted and resting on cinder blocks for legs. This appliance was from a time of resourceful ingenuity… a time when you never threw anything away. You made do. You “recycled” by reusing. You reduced waste simply by being too poor to buy something better. The Baby Boomers were on the tail end of that generation. Ours was a disposable generation. Cheaply made plastic and paper products have filled countless landfills. Grandma didn’t even have trash service till very late in life. You burned what little paper you threw away. You fed table scraps to the cats or hogs. You reused the glass jars that you canned your food in. I’m glad this stove is still here…even though it doesn’t work…it would never be safe enough to use. But it’s like going into the museum of my youth when I go downstairs. And it’s one of the the things that makes me smile. ❤️

“So then, brothers, stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter.” ‭‭2 Thessalonians‬ ‭2:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Letting Out Your Inner Child

Tue, 14 Nov 2017 02:30:05 -0600

I saw something yesterday that totally melted my heart. Daughter #1 is at Disney World with her family and her brother-in-law’s family. She was standing with Mickey and Minnie Mouse. There’s a long story why this was so touching for me.

I was a single mom with #1 by the time she was two years old. It was not easy. We lived in HUD housing. We got WIC and food stamps. There were roaches and the people downstairs abused their kids. I looked in the open door one day when I walked by and my neighbor yelled at me to keep moving or she’d “come up behind me and slit my $&@?ing throat!” It was NOT a healthy scenario and if I had been any brighter or bolder, I would have packed up my stuff and hightailed it back to West Virginia. But that wasn’t what I wanted for my little girl. I wanted her to have every opportunity that I didn’t have growing up and I knew if I worked hard enough, I’d get her out of there. We would have a good life.

And things did get better. I got a really good job. I found a roommate, I lived frugally. I got good daycare. She was never wanting for the basics, but there wasn’t much extra. Just lots of love. Then, we met Hubby #2. He was applying to medical school. We worked really hard. He was a good daddy and a great provider…even though it was many years before we started making any money.

We moved to a small town when my ex finished residency and joined a practice. We were thrilled to be in the mountains and a lovely community. Daughter #1 was going into 7th grade…a tough age to make such a big move. The kids at school only knew her as the “new doctor’s daughter”. There was a group of kids out on the lawn one day, talking about how hard it was to not have money for nice things. My daughter spoke up and said she totally understood that. The kids scoffed and she told them, her dad wasn’t BORN a doctor. There were many nights we ate a box of generic mac & cheese and a tomato out of the yard. She had a genuine appreciation for where she came from and she gained the respect of all the kids.

Still, we didn’t really start making a decent living till she was nearly finished with high school. Then we had her little sister. My girls are nearly sixteen years apart. It was a different world raising the two of them. The level of affluence was drastically different and the little one definitely made out when it came to vacations. My younger one was only two or three the first time we took her to Disney World. By then, her older sister was in college. I never did get to take my oldest to see Mickey and Minnie…something she never, ever let me forget, even though she understood why.

She’s been to Disneyland a couple of times with my son-in-law’s family. But never Disney World. Not till this week. I’ve been going on her Facebook page several times a day to see the pictures she posts. Yesterday…there she was. Beaming. Standing between Mickey and Minnie, grinning from ear to ear. The post simply read, “Six-year-old me is happy.” It made me smile. It warmed my heart. She is showing her children a good time. She is sharing her joy with them. She’s such a good mom and I’m so proud of her. I’m proud of both of my daughters. And…I’m happy they know how to let their inner child out to play. ❤️

“Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭3:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When Things Get Messy

Mon, 13 Nov 2017 02:30:22 -0600

This is the part I hate about home improvement projects…living through the mess till it gets finished. I have done this countless times in my life. You can’t avoid it if you are a homeowner. I did this and then some when my mom died and I prepared to sell her house. She wouldn’t let me do anything to her house when she was living because it meant she would have to throw something away. I completely redid the kitchen and bathroom, painted the whole house, and refinished the hardwood floors…all by myself. It’s ever so much more fun to do a project with someone…especially if you work well together as a team. We took yesterday off, went to church, then out to the farm to feed cats. And today we are back at it.

As I sat down to write this post, a notification came through on my phone. There are nearly a hundred women from Sisters on the Fly down in Port Aransas doing hurricane relief. The very day the hurricane hit, the call went out on the Sisters on the Fly Facebook page. Someone picked up the ball and started The Sister Corps. They immediately started recruiting women to go south to help with the cleanup efforts as they knew help would be needed beyond the immediacy of the storm. The Sister Corps has been posting pictures of the mounds of trash out in front of the houses where they are working. Homes are bare to the studs where drywall must be replaced because of flooding. Bathrooms and kitchens are being replaced. Carpeting and ruined flooring has been ripped out. It makes me look at this room with a whole new vision.

We are freshening this room…not salvaging it. We are making a choice to change outdated colors and carpeting, not replacing everything because of a natural disaster. Again, God humbles me when I get too “uppity” for my own good. This is a joy…a blessing. We are wealthy beyond our wildest dreams. We are rich in love and the bountiful blessings of not one, but two homes to live in. We have the money to buy a few gallons of paint without having to go through insurance adjusters and contractors and estimates to do so. I will look at this project with new eyes today when I am privileged to pick up a paint brush and know I have a comfortable bed to sleep in tonight. I know where my family is sleeping tonight. I know we have food in the pantry and a little money in the bank.

I want to share with you another way God works in my life. The other day, I received notice I needed to make a change in my insurance. I’ve been on the healthcare.gov website and on the phone a few times choosing New coverage. It’s an affordable policy, but still…money I wasn’t necessarily planning on spending. As I looked through the choices, I prayed. “God, show me what I need. I’ll worry about filling out the paperwork…you worry about how I’ll afford what I need.” God always, always provides. You want to know how I know this? Because, yesterday after church, Mr. Fixit and I went to the post office to pick up the mail and there were, not one but…TWO checks in there. Not enough to pay for a full month of insurance. But enough to cover my tithe for the next three months.

This is how God works. He has countless, countless blessings for YOU. They have your name on them…specifically. And he so wants to give them to you. But…he waits for you to ask for them. Don’t come out of the chute asking for those blessings directly, either. Come into the conversation thanking Him for the blessings he has already showered on you. An attitude of gratitude is a fair way to start a prayer when you are asking for more.

Thank you, God…for the unexpected bounty you have blessed me with. I am so grateful. ❤️

“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” ‭‭Malachi‬ ‭3:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Closet Christian

Sat, 11 Nov 2017 02:30:29 -0600

Sometimes it’s hard to walk the talk. And sometimes it’s even more difficult to talk the walk. I shied away from Christianity for many, many years after being frightened by a little ol’ banty rooster of a man. He was a circuit preacher, all hellfire and brimstone. As an adult, I can appreciate where that style of preaching is coming from and what affect it has on my spirit. But, as a seven-year-old, it literally scared the pee out of me and I ran in the opposite direction. I walked a long journey away from Jesus. I couldn’t be an atheist because I knew God. It was this Jesus guy that gave me fits. I rectified that by becoming Jewish for 27 years. It wasn’t till I was 51 that I became a Christian. And, even then, I was a closet Christian.

I never wanted to be that person. You know, that stereotypical church lady who can’t carry on a conversation without “Praise Jesus” this and “Praise Jesus” that. I’ve since learned you can…and SHOULD…let others know that you are a Christian by the way you act and talk. You can do this without shouting “Hallelujah” in the produce section when the Olathe Sweet Corn arrives. (Although, that actually may be justified!) I took closet Christianity to the extreme though. I was like the Unabomber in my hoodie and shades, being very careful not to expose my true identity. Some of that has fallen away with age. I don’t care as much what people think about me. Mostly it’s a conscious decision.

I had lunch with a dear friend Thursday. We met at Bob Evans…a busy chain restaurant where I can get a good breakfast any time of the day. We hadn’t seen each other for quite some time so there was much catching up to do. We talked about the kids and our new loves. We chatted about our travels and holiday plans. And we talked liberally about God and our faith walk. It was an easy conversation…the kind of comfort you only find with close friends.

After about an hour or so, a woman walked over and placed her hand on my arm. “I overheard you talking about the Lord. Thank you! Isn’t He wonderful?” Yes, yes He is. I appreciated the woman’s gesture. She was a true Believer and wanted to share that moment with me. That was fine, but what meant more to me was this…if SHE, as a Believer, overheard our conversation, then there just might have been someone there who may never have had the opportunity to hear someone praising God over hash browns and scrambled eggs.

Incorporating our love for God into our daily conversations doesn’t have to come in the form of that guy with the sandwich board in front of Taco Bell shouting about the end times. That’s the quickest way to turn people off of any religion, in my humble opinion. I prefer a more organic approach.

Don’t hide your light under a basket. Let it shine! ❤️

“Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:15-16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Brushing Up Against The Past

Fri, 10 Nov 2017 02:30:35 -0600

Today is Veteran’s Day. Every Veteran’s Day, I sent Mr. Virgo a note thanking him for his service. His father was a veteran. His late daughter was a veteran. My dad, my uncle, my first husband, my niece, my late father-in-law…all veterans. Mr. Virgo had military honors at his funeral. I cannot hear taps without feeling a catch in my throat. This time of year brings him closer to the surface.

The other day, one of my dear friends posted a video. In it, she addressed her friends and family. Her nose was red from crying. She sniffled as tears slowly dripped down her cheeks. This is the angelversary week of her husband’s death. It hits her hard every year and even though it’s been eleven years, she relives his final days over and over. It broke my heart. And, of course, it made me think of Mr. Virgo. His was a sudden death. No warning. No long goodbyes. Thankfully, no suffering. I cannot imagine a lingering death. It crushes me.

While I haven’t cried for him in quite some time, that doesn’t mean I never will again. It certainly doesn’t mean I’m through with grief and loss. That’s something that is forever imprinted in the fibers of my being. But I will say this…I don’t let myself “go there” very often. I used to meditate on him. I felt it was necessary to purge myself of as many tears as possible to clean out my heart from this terrible pain. When tears wouldn’t come, I would look at a picture of him in his casket taken at the viewing… white turtleneck, ivory sweater, hair carefully combed, glasses missing from the CPR efforts. I know that sounds absolutely macabre, but somehow I needed that pain to burn itself out or the fire was going to consume me. I knew this without a doubt.

Time and distance has softened Mr. Virgo’s death somehow. It’s like looking at the horizon without my glasses. I see the line…it’s just blurred. If I concentrate, I can bring it back into focus because it’s always there…just beyond where the light spills over. But, something interesting happens when he brushes up against my mind now. When I get close to the memories, I “feel” him instead of “see” him. I mean…literally. While there are some passages in the Bible that allow for a little wiggle room in the idea of “ghosts”, Evangelical Christians believe that we are absent from this place once we die. However, it isn’t far fetched to believe that God may use visions, smells and touch to evoke loving memories of loved ones who have passed.

The other night, Mr. FixIt and I were talking and he said the sweetest thing. He said, “How can we love each other this much?” Immediately, I felt something brush up over my right arm. It surprised me and I sat very still. I looked down at my arm and thought hard. “Do it again.” I whispered in my mind. And there it was…a distinct “touch”…like static electricity on my right forearm. I smiled and looked up at Mr. FixIt. I don’t know how we can love each other this much, but we do.

And…I’ve a feeling someone else approves. ❤️

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

What Have I Done???

Thu, 09 Nov 2017 02:30:08 -0600

OMGosh! I broke my absolute cardinal rule yesterday and…gasp…bought a piece of furniture! I know, I know…you all were with me when I downsized and I absolutely SWORE I would never accumulate “stuff” again. BUT…things are different now. A lot different. I’m not living in a camper, for one thing. For the last three years, my desktop computer has been riding in my camper, under the bed, in an airtight plastic storage tub. There have been numerous times I’ve needed to use it and I have to go out, prop up the bed, haul it out, and put it away when I’m done. Ok, ok…I’m rationalizing. Here’s what happened.

I had to run to town yesterday for an appointment and on my way back to the house, I saw a sign that said “Grand Opening!” It was a consignment store. Who can pass up a good consignment store, right? My truck pulled in, all on its own. I had no choice but to follow. I browsed around and they had some beautiful pieces of furniture. I was first attracted to an old rolltop desk. It was small, and a little beat up. Mr. FixIt has a nice rolltop desk…much nicer than this one. I went on and looked at other things. When I came back around, I asked the clerk about the desk. He said, “You know, if it were me and I had the room, I’d be looking at this one. Much better piece of furniture.” He opened the doors and the drawers and showed me the solid oak construction. The top opens and there’s a place for the monitor, a drawer for the keyboard, and a separate cabinet for the CPU. It is in two pieces to make it easier to transport. The selling point for me was the price. The piece originally sold for $1800. It had been priced for sale in the consignment shop for $500…a decent price for a sold piece of furniture of this quality. However, it was marked down to $250. So, I own a piece of furniture.

That’s two pieces, actually. I also own the jelly cupboard in the kitchen at the farm. Oh, and a recliner. Hmmmmm….I am accumulating. Not excessively, but still. It doesn’t feel as scary to put down some roots as it did in the first few years after Mr. Virgo died. I didn’t want to feel a sense of permanence then. Permanence meant real loss when things headed south. I needed to feel untethered…free. I didn’t have the strength to be needed…even by inanimate objects. As long as it fit in my truck and my camper, I was just fine. And like I said, things are different now. A lot of healing has occurred. Time has passed. A relationship has been established. A home is being created. Two homes, actually.

Mr. FixIt lives exactly twenty-two miles from the farm. He lives on five acres out in the country. He generously shares his space with me. Mi casa es su casa. My house is your house. He is just as comfortable at the farm as I am at his place. And neither of us are giving up our space. We stay a little here, a little there, and then have our own space to retreat to when we need to recharge. It’s the perfect arrangement for the time being. I became very independent after losing Mr. Virgo. While I missed him, certainly…I also came to appreciate the stillness of my own breath. Mr. FixIt and I both like our alone time. Although…truth be told…whenever we are apart, we miss each other terribly. This whole relationship thing is growing on both of us. I suppose, for me, there is still an element of fear deep down inside. That “What if something happened to him” thing. I know I can’t live my life in fear. I won’t. But, there’s something to be said for taking your time in any given situation. After all, there’s no biological time clock ticking here. There’s absolutely nothing to be in a hurry over.

Mr. FixIt and I have been together for a year now. I was thinking about this yesterday. I’m in a really good place now, emotionally. I haven’t had a “bad night” in a really long time. My anxiety level is at an all time low. I’m comfortable in my own skin. I’m happy. I am blessed. And…I am grateful. God has answered so many prayers. I think I’m just going to go along for the ride and enjoy…everything. Life is so sweet! ❤️

“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. Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Getting Cozy

Wed, 08 Nov 2017 02:30:14 -0600

I’ve always loved to sit in front of a nice fire with a cup of tea, a comforter, and a stack of magazines. I haven’t had a stove or fireplace to sit in front of since my youngest was a baby. She’s twenty-seven. We are fortunate to have free gas at the farm so we have a couple ventless gas stoves to ward off the chill in the far reaches of the house. But they don’t look like a wood stove and are situated where sitting near them is impossible. I was delighted when Mr. FixIt showed me his house for the first time. This gas stove sits in the family room and is perfect for getting cozy on a cold, wet November afternoon.

And it’s a good thing we’re getting cozy today because…we are about to embark on the first real test of our relationship. Painting a room together. We picked up an array of paint samples at the hardware store the other day and sat down with them yesterday. Or rather…I did while Mr. FixIt finished up something he was working on. I looked through the color swatches, booklets, and magazines and all I felt was frustration. You can ask Daughter #1…I’m horrible at choosing colors. I have it in my head what I want but putting it down as a plan that makes any sense eludes me. I spent an inordinate amount of time cross-stitching a quilt pattern for one of my BFF’s one year for Christmas. I had it framed and when it was done…well, let’s just say it looked lovely in her downstairs guest bathroom. I have a horrible time matching colors. My daughter, however, can pick out tea towels to match the accent wall in her kitchen six months after painting it. I couldn’t tell you if it was green or yellow. (It was the color of red grapes, actually. I mean, what IS that?) Anyway, I finally found a picture that showed what I was looking for just as Mr. FixIt walked into the room.

“How’s it going, my baby?”

Breathe. Act like you know what you’re doing.

“Great! What do you think of this? We can do three walls in this color, one accent wall in this darker shade, and the trim in white!”

I held my breath.

“I like it!”

Really? That was easy. Listen, this may very well actually BE the world’s most perfect man!

We went to town and bought the paint and some supplies we needed. Now comes the challenge of actually painting…together. I’ll keep you apprised how that goes. In the meantime, I sat here in front of this cozy fire with a Rosemary Chicken in the oven, a definite chill in the air, browsing through a stack of my favorite magazines, a nice cup of tea at hand. Honestly, it doesn’t get much better than that!

Mr. Virgo’s Rosemary Chicken

Pick out a nice, fat roasting hen. Remove giblets and set to simmer for gravy, if you’re into that sort of thing. Personally, I think innards go in the trash, NOT in my gravy. Rinse the chicken, inside and out and place in a baking dish. Wipe the chicken with extra virgin olive oil. Season with fresh ground pepper, salt, rustic herbs, garlic and crushed rosemary. Place uncovered in a preheated 350 degree oven and bake until golden brown…about an hour and a half to two hours. The leg should be squeezable and when a knife is stuck in between the thigh and breast, the juices should run clear. That’s it, easy peasy. Mr. Virgo and I had this every Sunday. I made it for Mr. FixIt last night for the first time and it was a big hit. If you need a quicker meal, prepare chicken thighs in the same manner but bake 30-45 minutes. Bon Appetite! ❤️

“May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭119:76‬ ‭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

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

The Promise

Fri, 03 Nov 2017 01:30:13 -0600

Three thousand seven hundred sixty-four. That’s how many days came between these two pictures. On the left, the day I married Mr. Virgo. Is it any wonder that handsome man wanted to marry me??? Look at that fresh face, smooth skin, dark hair with just a smattering of gray. Where are the wrinkles around my mouth? Where is all the proof of my sorrow and my joy?

It was a warm spring day stuck smack dab between storms. They shoveled the snow off the balcony so we could get married outside. I had shopped and shopped for the perfect dress, finally finding it on eBay for $45! It was too big so my friend took it in for me. I loved the beads on the silk with hand painted flowers. I thought I looked like a million bucks!

If I had it to do over again, I would have had Mr. Virgo plan the wedding. While it was lovely, it wasn’t until the honeymoon when he reminded me this is what he does for a living. I hadn’t even thought of that. I was just so darned excited to be marrying this great guy, I just barreled through like a bull in a china shop. I asked him why he didn’t say something, and in his sweet, self-deprecating way, he told me, “Sweetheart, it really is all about you. You were having so much fun with it, I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.” I started to ask him what he would have done differently and I know he would have said, “Nothing, baby doll. Not a thing.” Because, that’s the kind of guy he was.

We stood before some seventy-five or so of our family and friends and shared our vows. We promised to always be there. Till death do us part. We had no idea at the time it would only be five years, eleven months, and five days till the unthinkable happened and he was gone.

There is joy on that face on the left. Fresh with the wonder of love and a wedding and music and dancing and cake! Fast forward a decade and look…that face has aged. It has seen indescribable loss. The eyes have shed a river of tears. The hair has a lot of glitter in it. And, there is also joy on that face on the right. Fresh with the wonder of love and music and camping and great barbecue and the handsome man taking my picture….my life companion. The woman on the right is wiser. Older chronologically, but not in her heart. While I lost so much when I lost Mr. Virgo…I ended up gaining in the end. I have a much greater sense of adventure. I’m not so “in the box” as I used to be. I got out from under crushing debt and the weight of long held worldly goods. I figured out what’s really important in life. I’m SO different now than I was then.

I am relieved to be this far down the road of this grief journey. The pictures I have of those weeks, months, years break my heart. I try not to think about the possibilities of having to walk that path again but I’m realistic enough to know it can happen. I know I could survive it again if I had to. But, for now…I think I’ll just hang on and go for the ride. The best is yet to be! I’m becoming a crone! ❤️

“The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭2:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Free Refills

Tue, 31 Oct 2017 01:30:43 -0600

Sunday’s sermon was amazing, as usual, and I am always compelled to share my impressions. Pastor Justin Enoch of The Warehouse Church delivers a passionate message every Sunday that really speaks to me. I love this church! It’s contemporary, has a great praise team, and speaks to my spirit week after week. As I was driving to church Sunday, I felt this delightful anticipation that made me smile. I’ve never known a church where people are SO excited to attend. They give you “high fives” as you enter and as you leave. They hold up signs in the parking lot that say “So glad you’re here!” and “You can sit with us!” It is a reaching church and welcomes everyone, no matter where they are in their lives. I love that.

“If you only knew…” This was the title of Sunday’s sermon. How many times have you said…”If I only knew then what I know now…”? Pastor Justin used the example of the oil and gas industry. If he had only known about the development that was going to come, he would have thrown everything he had into the pot and bought all this land for pennies on the dollar that has now created so many “Mailbox Millionaires”. We live our lives this way. The enemy feeds on this. He whispers into our lives and makes us fearful of the future, worried about today, and ashamed of the past. If you take up the spoon and eat what you’re being fed, you’ll soon starve to death. Your spirit will be hungry…for what, it has no clue. So you seek to find something that fills you up. Drugs, alcohol, sex, pornography, shopping…anything to fill up that hole in your spirit.

Pastor Justin goes on to ask how many of us love “free refills”. Hands go up all over the sanctuary. We do! We love to have that bottomless cup of coffee at the diner or the unlimited soup and salad at Olive Garden. We want something for nothing. God offers us unlimited, bottomless cup, free refills for all eternity…refills of love. If you only knew how much He loves you. If you were the only person on this earth, He would still have sacrificed His Son for you. That kind of love is unfathomable. You can’t earn it. You can’t buy it. He gives it freely. And when He does, you cannot help but be changed.

There is an East Indian saying that says, “No matter how far you have gone down the wrong path, turn around.” You have to make choices in your faith walk. If you are struggling with addiction, you can’t get clean and play in the same playground you did before. You have to make changes. God offers his love freely, but we have to show up and suit up and play the game. What if you put that passion and drive and love and attention you put into anything that takes you off the right path and turned it towards God? What if, instead of running to the bottle or the needle or the charge card or the relationship, you ran towards Jesus? Whoa. That blew me away.

Free refills…unconditional love, free for the taking. I’ll fill my cup at the well that serves Living Water and my cup will never be empty. I ran into a gal in Harrisville yesterday. I hadn’t seen her in about a year. She looked at me and said, “You look so rested, so peaceful.” I am…for a number of reasons. My cup is filled every day by a living, loving God. I have healthy, happy children and grandchildren. My brother is stable and happy and living a fulfilling life. I live in the country in the home of my heart. And, I’m in love with a wonderful man. I am wealthy beyond all imagination. I may not have a boatload of money…but I’m richer than I have ever been in my entire life.

Twelve years ago today a tall, silver-haired gentleman with piercing blue eyes and a disarming smile walked into my needlework shop in Glenwood Springs and changed my life forever. I am so grateful for that. I am so grateful I had that kind of unconditional love and that I have it again. I am so grateful for this life! My prayer today is that you are richly blessed in your own lives. ❤️

“Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭4:13-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Art of Aging

Sun, 29 Oct 2017 01:30:15 -0600

I sat in the big leather chair yesterday and gazed around this circle of marvelous, beautiful women I have the honor of calling my friends. We all graduated from high school together…could it really be forty-six years ago??? We’re a diverse group. Some were jocks in high school. Some were wallflowers. Actresses. Musicians. Artists. Dancers. Some were heavy into books. Some were heavy into boys. We were shy…and we weren’t. We were scared…and we weren’t. And look at us now. These raven-haired beauties have glitter on their crowns now…whether we choose to show it or not.

What is age but a number and an attitude? I haven’t climbed all these mountains to ignore the view. I worked hard to get up here. I got knocked down a few times. (Haven’t we all?) But, I kept on climbing because the view is pretty magnificent from this side of sixty. I don’t want to be young. I’ve been young. I don’t want to lose the character lines on my face. I’ve had alabaster skin. I don’t want to be skinny. I’ve worried about my tummy for the very last time. What I haven’t been is sixty-five and seventy-eight and ninety-two.

When Mr. Virgo died, I truly thought my life was over. In a way, it was. THAT life was. But I got a new life…whether I wanted it or not. I built it to suit me. Stripping away to the foundation of your soul takes great courage. My mantra every day was a whimper…”Move forward…move forward…move forward.” From a whimper to a whisper to a shout, joy was my carrot on a stick. Did I ever dream I’d find love again? I did at some point. I can guarantee it took a while to get there. Did I ever dream I’d find a love like THIS again? Oh, h*** no! Is it better than what I had with Mr. Virgo? It’s different…as it should be. I wasn’t looking to “replace” my husband. I was looking to enhance my life with joy, and Mr. FixIt brings that and then some.

I don’t want to be anything but what I am because if I lose focus on sixty-four, I’ll miss it. I want to be present with my breath and my heartbeat…my bones and marrow. I want to feel my muscles move as I strive to continually improve them. I want to taste my food. I want to smell sunshine on fresh sheets. No…I don’t want to be young. I want to be me…at every stage. I want to make aging my canvas…my art…my muse. ❤️

“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:31‬ ‭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

Farmhouse Obsession

Thu, 26 Oct 2017 01:30:48 -0600

In 1982, Hubby #2 and I moved into an old brick bungalow that had been the farmhouse before the area around it was developed. It was drafty and poorly insulated. Three quarters of the basement was bare dirt floor. The brick support pillars down there were crumbling and frankly, it was a pretty scary place. But the rest of the house was charming. Dark hardwood floors and built-in storage, tall ceilings and a sun porch, large windows you could fling wide open to catch the cool evening breeze…it was the closest I had come to living in an actual farmhouse since I’d left home at the tender age of twenty.

Hubby #2 was in medical school when we moved into this rental. Even though it was a farmhouse, it was on a very busy street in east Denver. I had a big garden and flower beds everywhere. We grew as much of our own food as we could and I was very much into Mother Earth News. I made our bread, yogurt, granola and tofu. What I couldn’t grow, I bought at the neighborhood farmer’s market. I canned dozens of jars of green beans, pickles, tomatoes, jams and jellies in my huge country kitchen which looked very similar to this one.

I have a total obsession with these porcelain farmhouse sinks. There’s nothing better for canning than one of these babies. The sink was huge and deep…perfect for washing large quantities of fruits and vegetables. A water bath canner could sit right down into the sink for easy filling. And two dishpans fit perfectly side by side for washing and rinsing dishes. My grandma’s farmhouse doesn’t have one of these sinks but I imagine the first one I ever saw was in West Virginia. I run across them every so often here but haven’t found just the right one. The laminate on the countertops in the farm kitchen is lifting and needs to be replaced. I’m thinking if I ever do that, this kind of sink is going in. The plumbing under the sink is getting pretty fragile so when it goes, it’ll be a perfect opportunity to do a little updating. It is, to be sure, just an earthly tent…but the home of my earthly heart.

Speaking of plumbing, remember when I told you about leaving the bath water running and getting distracted by a phone call? I actually ran the well dry and this terrible, black water started coming out of the faucet. I spoke with one of the locals here and he said this hard water gunks up the insides of the pipes just like cholesterol in your arteries. When I let the well run dry, the “spurting” of air and water essentially roto-rootered the plumbing. Before that, the water smelled and tasted awful. Now, while I don’t think I’d drink a glass of it, I can stand to brush my teeth with it…but only after I tested the water. It’s hard, and slightly alkaline, but there’s no lead, pesticides, or bacteria. It’s really amazing the difference in the quality, before and after.

The pot roast from yesterday was wonderful and is in a crockpot for vegetable soup today. It’s cold and rainy and we were expecting our first hard freeze last night. It’s time to get out the jeans and sweaters and boots and jackets. The only thing missing is a fireplace but this old house is all wood and I wouldn’t dare have one. We did change out the stove in the bathroom yesterday with one that has a thermostat. Now it shuts off and on rather than being way too hot or freezing with the manual shutoff.

The fire in Parkersburg is dying down but still has smoldering hotspots. More information is being released about the owners and what they were doing in there. And, more importantly, what they WEREN’T doing…like correcting past environmental and safety violations. The owner, who has at least four other of these warehouses in the area packed with God knows what, is conveniently out of the country at the moment. Fines had been levied against them for these violations to the tune of $80,000…$60,000 of which remains unpaid. They’re still evaluating the air quality results. The first class action lawsuit was filed Monday. And the circus begins. I pray for the first responders and the folks who live nearby and in the path of the smoke cloud, which shifted continually with the direction of the wind. I pray this gets sorted out quickly. I hear Erin Brokovich has been alerted. I hope that helps. ❤️

“For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:1-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Ice Cream Truck...for Adults

Sat, 21 Oct 2017 01:30:23 -0600

I finally broke down and got Amazon Prime. Living out here in the boonies makes shopping difficult sometimes…especially in winter. And, while I try to buy local at every opportunity, there are things that I’m not willing to compromise on like saving money. Prime gives you free two day shipping. It pays for itself quickly. Also, I love the music channel. I can ask Alexis to play “Kari Jobe” or “Contemporary Christian Rock” and she gets right to it.

I’ve told you before but, since downsizing, I’m very careful about what I accumulate. It would be very easy to let things get out of control. If I run across something I think I might need, I jot it down on a list in my iPhone. If I haven’t thought of it in a couple of weeks, I figure I don’t need it and take it off the list. When I get four or five items on the list, I go on Amazon and put them in my cart but I don’t actually buy them. If I haven’t bought them in a week or two, I re-evaluate whether I really need that particular item. Often, my fascination with it wanes or I figure out how to use something I already have.

I placed an order this week and the UPS man backed up my driveway this afternoon. Four boxes arrived and it felt like Christmas! I ordered some probiotics for the best price around. I bought Lisa Mora’s book called Vintage Trailer Style. (I’ve been eyeing it for months. Cute camper ideas.) I ordered a microwaveable corn bag to warm my feet up at night. I have a barley one but cannot find it anywhere. And I bought a small gas stove for the bathroom. You may remember I replaced the stove in there in the spring, but we got the thing hooked up before we realized the stove had no thermostat. I thought we’d get by, but a stove that runs all the time soon has this little house WAY too hot! This new stove is exactly like the other one but with a thermostat. We’ll get that installed this weekend…another winter prep job.

I mowed the yard yesterday. I put the mower away in the barn so hopefully I won’t have to drag it out again this fall. I mulched the leaves into the lawn for extra fertilizer. I covered the air conditioner with heavy plastic for winter. I got the lawn chairs put away in the basement and worked on the back porch. It has become a catch all this summer and it was getting out of control. Still didn’t get the cat beds fixed yet. As I was writing this last night, Old Mama Kitty knocked one of the beds off the table and onto the cement porch floor. It sounded like a bear was getting into a trash can. I jumped and looked out the back door. When I went out, poor Mama came running like she needed me to save her from that big, bad plastic tub. ?

We’re supposed to have good weather this weekend and rain comes Monday. There’s a meteor shower this weekend. Get away from the city lights to someplace dark and enjoy Morher Nature’s fireworks. ❤️

“Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:23‬ ‭NLT‬‬

#UPS, #cleanhouse, #farmlife

Tea Time

Fri, 20 Oct 2017 01:30:02 -0600

I’m a coffee drinker but I can’t have it after about noon or I’ll be counting the spots on the ceiling all night. I can drink tea at night without a problem. Now that the weather is getting cooler, I share tea time with Mr. FixIt every evening. He catches up with the news on his phone. I sit here on the sofa, write my post and schedule it for 4:00 in the morning so you can read it when you have YOUR cuppa.

I always liked tea, even as a young girl. But, I really got into it when I lived in England. I learned to drink it with cream and a side of “digestive biscuits”…England’s counterpart for graham crackers. I bought a Brown Betty while I was there…a sturdy, brown, earthenware teapot that keeps your tea at a proper temperature for quite some time. I was taught to put in a teaspoon of loose leaf tea per cup and add one for the pot. I poured my cream into the pot then fresh, boiling water. I let it steep till it was the color I like and poured it through a strainer to removed the leaves.

I had my first child in the Royal Berkshire Maternity Hospital. My physician was Mr. Stalabrass (certain physicians are referred to as Mr. in Britain, or at least that’s the way it was forty-three years ago.) I had pre-eclampsia and had to be in the hospital for a week before I had the baby. Every afternoon, an aide would take your lunch tray, close the curtains and the door, and settle you in for a nap. Two hours later, she would come back with a warm face cloth and a tea tray…a lovely pot of tea, finger sandwiches, and sweets. It was divine! They should do that everywhere.

I am working double time trying to give this house a deep cleaning before winter sets in. The water here at the farm is hard and has a lot of iron in it. It turns the porcelain dark brown and takes a great deal of elbow grease to get clean. I discovered a wonderful product called Zap. The tub hasn’t been this white since I was a kid and they installed running water in this house. Seriously…it’s probably some horrid chemical, but the bathroom looks great!

I have to tackle the outside next, scrub the porches, and get the kitty beds ready for cold weather. But, first…another spot of tea! ❤️

“Take a lesson from the ants, you lazybones. Learn from their ways and become wise! Though they have no prince or governor or ruler to make them work, they labor hard all summer, gathering food for the winter. But you, lazybones, how long will you sleep? When will you wake up? A little extra sleep, a little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest— then poverty will pounce on you like a bandit; scarcity will attack you like an armed robber.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭6:6-11‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I Am Not Alone

Thu, 19 Oct 2017 01:30:16 -0600

Of all the comments I get on my blog posts, by far the most common is “It’s good to know I’m not alone.” When Mr. Virgo died, I felt like the only person on the planet. No one could possibly understand what I was feeling. I didn’t know how to find resources to help me feel better. I didn’t know who to turn to. I tried reading grief books but I couldn’t read. I couldn’t get beyond a sentence or two before my mind exploded. My family and friends were wonderful…don’t get me wrong. But I was sure even they couldn’t really get it because they hadn’t walked this particular path.

I reached out through this page as much for me as I did for you. Maybe more so. And we both found out we’re not alone in this. That was HUGE for me. Knowing others were having the same or similar experiences gave me courage.

I scroll through my files of pictures often for inspiration. Sometimes a particular photo will jump out at me and that’s the one I go with for my next post. Last night, it was this one. Mr. Virgo…big smile, twinkling eyes, and that shock of silver hair…in the afternoon sunshine at Rocky Mountain National Park on a day much like today. We had gone for a drive to view the elk and the bright yellow gold of the aspen leaves quaking in the breeze. It was a perfect day. As I scrolled through the photos and saw this one, two things happened. My heart squeezed for a few seconds. And I smiled. The smile is good. The squeeze in my heart still takes my breath away because it takes me by surprise.

I had a beautiful day yesterday. It was a day much like the one in this picture. The sky was a brilliant cerulean blue. The temperature was reasonable in the high sixties, low seventies. I was with the man that I love. We had a really busy and full day winterizing another of the four campers. Lunch out. A granddaughter’s softball game. A trip to the Piggly Wiggly. A day. Just a normal day in a life. Some would say it was nothing special. I beg to differ…it was.

Why was yesterday special? Because I get to love again. I get to look in another human being’s beautiful eyes and see love in return. Because I get to love…a lot. I get to love both of my ex-husbands and that great cowboy I dated for awhile. I get to love Mr. Virgo. And…I get to love Mr. FixIt. That is so special. I can still love all of them because I stretched my heart and made room

“I am not alone” has taken on a new meaning now. I’ll never take that for granted. ❤️

“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

A Bird's Eye View

Wed, 18 Oct 2017 01:30:29 -0600

Have you ever gone on Google Earth and looked at the places you know? I remember one winter day before Mr. Virgo died. I was missing home…the dense, green woods and dusky purple mountains of West Virginia. Google Earth was still relatively new and they had just added the “street view” feature. I plugged in the address for Grandma’s farm, clicked on the little man icon, and…viola! I was “standing” in front of the farmhouse! I was SO excited! I quickly moved the map so I could “drive” down the two-lane blacktop the three miles, taking in every turn, house, and tree. It was mesmerizing. I could “go home” anytime I wanted to! I have “traveled” to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower, London to ogle Big Ben, Rome to see the ancient ruins…all from the comfort of the easy chair in my living room.

The other night, Mr. FixIt was doing a little virtual traveling and he stumbled upon this. TOW-Wanda! MY camper…sitting right where I park her in the summer! I know approximately when this was. This is mostly uber cool…and, a little bit spooky in a Big-Brother-is-watching-you sort of way. It’s a good thing there was no nude sunbathing going on…for a vast number of reasons! ?

This satellite photo was taken about fifteen months after Mr. Virgo died. I had been full-timing in my camper for about seven months at this point. I was interviewed yesterday for another episode of Janine Pettit’s Girl Camper podcast. This time we talked about full-timing…dream vs. reality. I’ll post a link when it goes live.

Living on the farm has been such a treat that I’ve hardly thought about whether I miss all that time I spent on the road. The answer is yes…and no. Could I do that again? Yes! Would I? Maybe. I’m a lot more awake and aware now than I was back then. Grief brain may have clouded my judgement sometimes. But I’ve never regretted having that time alone out in the wilderness and backroads. I was so free and life was pared down to the bare essentials. There’s something to be said for simplicity. Janine asked me if I ever found myself lonely and I’m not sure I properly answered. I’m a people person. I’m gregarious and thrive in a place where I can have regular contact with people I know and love…friends and family that love me for who I am and I can let my hair down. I think that was the driving force behind allowing the Siren Song of the farm to lure me into planting some roots…at least for a while. And now…I have Mr. FixIt. We both love to travel and we never stay put for too long. But I’m looking forward to some nesting this winter. That’s the goodness of fall…it invites us to put another log on the fire, brew a nice cup of tea, and read a good book. The campers are put away for the season and I’m ready to be a homebody for a while. ❤️

“By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭24:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Getting Bolder: Stories, Not Stuff

Tue, 17 Oct 2017 01:30:09 -0600

Today’s post is a link to my most recent installment of “Getting Bolder” on the Sisters on the Fly blog. ❤️

www.sistersonthefly.com/getting-b…

“Since we have such a hope, we are very bold,” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Perfect Fall Day!

Sun, 15 Oct 2017 01:30:56 -0600

We couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day for football yesterday. It was HOT…about 84…and not a cloud in the sky. The stadium was sold out and the crowd was great. West Virginia clearly got our butts whipped the first half. Frustrating calls, penalty flags out the wazoo, and eleven points down definitely put a damper on things. I was thinking to myself (ok…I MAY have said it out loud) that maybe college football games weren’t my thing. Mr. FixIt looked at me and said, “It’s not over yet…you just wait.” As if he somehow held a crystal ball and knew a change was coming.

The halftime show was cool. The alumni band played because it was homecoming and they mentioned my friend Karen Nutter Ali as being the oldest alumni member playing. They crowned the homecoming king and queen. I ran into someone I knew. Then…the magic happened. The Mountaineers came out on the field looking less like an aberrant junior high school team and more like a well-oiled machine. Far less flags flew in the second half as the ’eers finally settled down and got it together. Down eleven points as they left the field at the half, they ended up trouncing Texas Tech 46-35 to win the game. They always play John Denver’s “Almost Heaven” at the end of every game but the atmosphere is electric when sung in victory. My heart swelled and I teared up as I sang along with 65,000 Mountaineer fans. It was glorious!

After the game, we joined Mr. FixIt’s family for a tailgate party. I’m just now meeting more of his family and it was great fun! The meatball sliders I made were a big hit. Here’s the recipe.

www.jessicagavin.com/grandmas-…

Note: I used three pounds of ground beef so I added a little extra of the other ingredients to compensate. I also used jar sauce but added two cans of fire-roasted diced tomatoes and about a cup and a half of diet blackberry flavored fizzy water for a sweet kick. I used packaged hot rolls from the grocery store, cut them in half, added a meatball, a little sauce, and some shredded mozzarella cheese and topped with the other half of the roll to make a little sandwich. I arranged the sliders in two disposable aluminum baking pans. I brushed the tops with a little melted butter and sprinkled the top lightly with garlic salt, covered with foil and baked them at 375 until the cheese was melted. Yield: 24 sliders. These were SO good! I’ll definitely make them again.

❤️

“Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:8‬ ‭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

Magic Hands

Thu, 12 Oct 2017 01:30:38 -0600

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I have always been prompt at getting my mammogram done every single year. I always had it at the same place for consistency. Still, even though it always niggled in the back of my mind that time was slipping by, I went a full three years without one. The fact that I am fairly diligent in doing breast self examination regularly was at least some consolation. But not all lumps and bumps can be felt. An exam and getting the tatas compressed is your best advantage for early detection of breast cancer.

I had my mammogram done September 27th, a Saturday. I was up before dawn to go get this thing done. I was in and out relatively quickly. The technologist was friendly, knowledgeable, and the entire experience left me feeling confident in the Women’s Center at Camden Clark Memorial Hospital in Parkersburg. I left the appointment and met my girlfriends for coffee and it became a day like any other day.

The following Wednesday, I went camping for a week and when I returned, there was a message on my home phone from the doctor’s office. Mr. FixIt and I looked at each other and I saw the slightest flicker of fear in his eyes.

“I’m sure it’s fine, sweetheart. I’m a girl…girls are complicated. We’ve got all these parts we have to maintain. It happens all the time.” I said in my most reassuring voice. But he wasn’t buying it. And neither was I. I’d never been called back before. And I’d never had an ultrasound of my breast.

My doctor’s office made an appointment for me for the following Tuesday…a whole week away. As much as I tried not to think about what it could mean, it was fruitless. I’ve worked in medicine almost my entire working life. I was married to a doctor who was the director of hospice. I was an x-ray tech. I know what I know. I ran through the risk factors. I used to drink more than I should have when I was going through a particularly difficult marriage/divorce but when the divorce was over, so was the drinking. I am not at my ideal weight and I don’t exercise as much as I should. The king sized plus for me is absolutely zero family history of breast cancer. By the time the appointment came around, I was feeling pretty confident this wasn’t cancer.

Tuesday finally came. The technician who came out to get me was the same gal who did the first mammo. That was comforting…and good, in that her technique would be the same for comparison’s sake. She told me there were two places in the breast that caused them concern and she pointed them out to me. She proceeded to do another mammogram. This one used a compression paddle on the machine that squeezed a small, three inch circle…really squeezed. I won’t lie…it stung. No problem holding my breath for that one! When she had the top down views done, she changed the paddle to a five inch circle for the side views. Again, the compression took my breath away, but I wanted good compression so the radiologist could see what he/she was looking for. It was soon done and I was ushered to a waiting room. Once the radiologist said no more views were needed, I was taken to the ultrasound room.

I’ve had ultrasounds many times, but never of my breast. They warm the gel! How nice! I’m laying there with my arm over my head and my boob hanging out in front of someone who was born the year I graduated from high school but, by golly, that gel was warm! The tech turned the screen slightly toward me and I saw what I had seen on the mammogram, only instead of being an oval, clearly encapsulated thing that looked much like a grape…I saw a black hole. My heart sank for a moment. Then my medical expertise came back and I thought about the physics of ultrasound. I soon reasoned what I was looking at was a fluid filled cyst and the vast majority of those are benign. Breathe.

The tech moved to the other spot. This was more worrisome. It was calcification within some very dense breast tissue. I have what used to be called fibrocystic breast disease till they dropped the disease part, because…it isn’t one. It’s extremely common. The last time I had a mammogram, my doctor was musing to herself. “Hmmmm, I wonder why your left breast is so much denser than the right?” “Easy,” I said. “I’ve always been with right handed men” I think she peed a little. Anyway, I digress. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of what I was seeing in this exam area so I just laid back and let my mind wander. What was my gut saying? “This is ok. Don’t worry.”

I was wandering through the mall yesterday, contemplating a pair of shoes, when the doctor’s office called. She said the doctor felt the findings were benign. They wanted to know if there was a family history of breast cancer. Since there is not, the recommendation is to repeat it in six months and if there are no changes, resume the yearly schedule. I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath as I sat down on one of the chairs in the shoe department. I thanked her and hung up. Relief spread over me and I immediately texted Mr. FixIt and my Prayer Warriors.

One out of eight women get breast cancer. Unlike Julia Louise Dreyfus…today it was not me. Get your mammograms, girls. Save the tatas! ❤️

“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Free Spirit

Wed, 11 Oct 2017 01:30:38 -0600

Much of my life was spent trying to conform…to not be too loud, too big, too much. To fit into the mold of who I (and others whose opinions I valued over my own) thought I should be. I was a doctor’s wife. I was supposed to fit in, entertain, volunteer. I converted to Judaism. I smiled, a lot. I had a perky voice. I did the best I could. And still, things unraveled, my marriage fell apart, and it darned near killed me.

It took a long time, and a lot of therapy, to find my voice. So many times women hang their identity on a hook by the front door and become who they need to be…who they’re expected to be. I have two beautiful daughters who are wonderful adults. Honestly, I don’t know how they survived me because I was a hot mess back in the day.

Mr. Virgo was the first man to really “get” me. He was patient and listened intently and fiercely supported me. He helped me see, and really FEEL, my value. When he died suddenly, my world and my self-confidence was rocked. When I was alone on my grief journey in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado in the first few months after he died, I really understood for the first time that it’s up to me to be happy. If we search for happiness from external things, we will always be disappointed.

I had a Mr. Virgo-sized hole in my heart and a God-sized hole in my life. I couldn’t bring Mr. Virgo back, but I could…and DID…reach out to God to fill me up with a peace only He could give. My go-to scripture became “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Over and over, through long anxiety-riddled nights, I repeated it till I believed it…till I felt it in my bones. And magically, God filled in the empty, hurting places with a golden love-light like none I had ever known.

I was telling someone yesterday…I loved Mr. Virgo with the white-hot heat of the sun. But I still never felt whole till I loved GOD with the white-hot heat of HIS Son. My light shines from within. I carry myself differently. I’m happy and content with myself and my life. And now? Now I have Mr. FixIt. I’m so glad he came into my life after I was broken open. I don’t know that we would have appreciated each other if this would have happened at any other time in our lives.

God’s timing is so perfect. ❤️

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭12:6-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Little R&R

Mon, 09 Oct 2017 01:30:27 -0600

We awoke to the sound of rain gently falling on the tin roof yesterday. What a welcome sound. Something else grabbed my attention. It was stuffy and still in the bedroom. I picked up my phone to check the temperature. No wifi. The power was out so the fan was off. This happens frequently here at the farm. I keep thinking I’ll get a generator but haven’t yet.

Old Mama Kitty curled up at my feet while I sat on the porch, watching the rain. Every time we have this moment, I wonder how much longer we’ll have her. She’s about twenty-four years old now. I love this sweet little kitty.

The persistent rain made me sleepy and I couldn’t get motivated to do much. I did put about half the stuff away in the kitchen that I had brought in from TOW-Wanda. The rest of the day was literally spent doing as little as possible. Sometimes you just need a day like that. Mr. FixIt is like the Energizer bunny. He never stops. I like to do a lot of stuff but when I need down time, I NEED down time. I sent him off to deliver a chair to his granddaughter and go bowling and I spent the afternoon/evening laying low. Just what the doctor ordered!

The only downside of having a lay low, shut in kind of day was not going to church. The only upside to that is the Warehouse Church where we attend goes live on their Facebook page every Sunday night at 7:00 so if I can’t go for some reason, I can watch the sermon from home.

Last night, Pastor Justin spoke on getting past your past. I dragged my past behind me like a sack of rotting garbage for years. I played and replayed every mistake, every misstep, every wrongdoing I ever did and berated myself for being a bad daughter, sister, wife, mother. It turns out, those were all lies…whispered into my life by the enemy. He has no power over the future, but man…does he know how to play the past. There are ways you can use the past. Learning from your mistakes and moving forward, letting the past “push” you into the person God has always intended you to be…THAT’S the only useful thing the past can give you. God uses those mistakes you made in the past to allow you to minister to others, to speak life over them, to demonstrate that you do not have to let your past define who you are. You can get past it. Powerful message. So, I got my lay low day, I had a nap under the sounds of a gentle rain on a tin roof, AND I heard a great message from God. What’s not to love about that? ❤️

“Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3:13-14‬ ‭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

Two-Lane Blacktop

Wed, 27 Sep 2017 01:30:54 -0600

Yesterday was errand day. Up at dawn, I ran through my list of very important things that needed to be done for the camping trip I’m leaving on today. And, not surprisingly, there were a couple of things I forgot. Mr. FixIt to the rescue! Yet another of the many wonderful advantages of dating this good man! He stopped on his way to my place and picked my items up at the market.

Driving back home on the two-lane blacktop, I always let my mind run through the points of note along the route. There’s the State Police barracks where I took (and failed) my first driving exam. (Not my fault, mind you…there was a hole in the muffler.) There’s the county line where I got carsick when I was seven. (I have no idea why that sticks with me, but it does.) There’s the last bridge of its kind between town and the farm. (It’s a lot like the old bridge that used to be where you turn onto the country lane to drive the last few miles to the house.) There’s the old country store where we stopped for ice cream on Sunday afternoons on our way back to town. There’s the turn where I had my wreck in February. My mind takes me through every turn and hill, reliving days long gone.

One of my favorite turns brings me to a straight stretch that passes the old Nutter Farm. There’s a family cemetery on the hill across the road. Every time I drive through that stretch, I get the strangest feeling. It’s akin to the feeling you get when someone hugs you. I didn’t get to meet the particular set of great-grandparents that are buried there, but somehow I feel them when I drive by. It’s a little eerie, but comforting at the same time. My great-grandfather died in his early 30’s of a ruptured appendix and left my great-grandmother with four little boys to raise. Charlie and Sabina. I have always loved her name. Folks called her “Binie”, with a long “i”. I never knew her proper name till after my last child was born or I might have named her Sabina Rose.

I know every turn, every pothole, every hill on that road. It stretches for miles all the way back as far as I can remember. I really get John Denver’s lyrics. “Country Roads, take me home to the place I belong…West Virginia!” I love coming home when I’ve been gone a while. When you’re there every day, you don’t notice how the house smells. But when you return from a long trip, it’s truly like stepping back in time to my childhood. It smells like old wood…damp and rich. It smells like old books and worn leather…slightly stale, dusty, and tired. It smells like iron skillets and well water. But it smells like family. It smells like home. I bought a scented candle when I first moved in last year and was decidedly dismayed when all you could smell when you walked in the back door was cinnamon apples. I stopped burning it right away and was ever so relieved when the familiar aromas returned a week or two later.

I count every day here as a blessing…a gift that God has brought me. This place almost seems like my reward for having lost my sweet husband. As though God said, “You’ve suffered enough. Let the memories in these walls comfort you for a time.” I know it’s not forever…one day the house will pass from one to another and I’ll need to move on. Or, more likely, there will be that point in my life when I choose to live elsewhere. But for now…for this brief time…I will live and love and laugh in the home of my heart. And I’ll remember every nook and cranny, every squeak in the floor, every line in the worn linoleum. I’ll remember every bend in the road. ❤️

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭32:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I Need This Mug!

Tue, 26 Sep 2017 02:55:32 -0600

I think I finally got a handle on my possum problem here at the farm. I have been fiddling around with the cats’ feeding schedule and did some research online. I started feeding them once a day and unless they search me out asking for something in the evening, that’s all they get. By noon they aren’t eating anything anyway so I pick up their dishes and set them inside a galvanized bucket with a locking lid. Bingo! No more late night visits from a passel of possums!

I think this is the week to bring in the hummingbird feeders. We need to encourage them to move along before it gets too cold. We have two really hot days coming then the weather turns cool. We have so many leaves falling. This year they seem to have just turned brown and fallen off. Not a lot of color in my woods.

The grass is still growing. The lawn will need mowing again soon. The days are getting shorter and there is less and less light in this old holler. I changed the light up high on the barn yesterday in preparation for long, dark winter evenings. The dogwoods are full of red berries. It’s a beautiful time of year.

My talk last night was well received. They gave me a mum for my yard. I’ll cherish that. Today is prep day for tomorrow’s trip up to the campground. I think this is the last hurrah for the camping season. Always a sad thing.

Tell me about the leaves where you are! ❤️

“And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years,” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭1:14‬ ‭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

When the Party's Over

Sun, 24 Sep 2017 01:55:09 -0600

Girl time is important to me. Yesterday it was coffee with a few of my home girls…the ‘71 Divas Do Coffee. We figure Starbucks is cheaper than therapy. I popped into the Women’s Center at 7:00am to get the tatas smushed (Save the Tatas, ladies. Get your mammograms!) then ran over to the hotel to wait for my tribe. They never disappoint. Once we were properly caffeinated and had solved the world’s problems, we went our separate ways till next month.

Two weeks ago it was twenty-four Sisters and last weekend it was four Girl Campers. On Wednesday, I meet up with thirty-five or so Girl Campers (and some Mister Sisters) for five nights of fun and frolic in eastern Ohio. Given the week I just had, I promise you there will be napping involved!

The anticipation of a trip is delightful. We “meet” ahead of time on the Meetup app page or a Facebook page to get to know one another and get directives. We send messages back and forth. We share recipe ideas and weather forecasts. We count down how many sleeps till we get there. It can be a little stressful…especially when you are new at it. But overall, you should just go with the flow and have fun.

The day you arrive at the event, you get unhooked and do any decorating you might like in and around your camper. I had two huge tubs of decorations I used to use but have pared way back since my camper is for living in, not necessarily for showing off. Once you’re settled, you go around and greet old friends and make new ones with the common bond of loving outdoors adventure. The fun commences in earnest!

The first night is usually a meet-and-greet potluck. The second might have a low scale event and the third night is usually an all out blowout. You fall in bed, tired and happy. But then comes the inevitable and you have to say goodbye. It’s like summer camp when we were kids and we cried when we had to say goodbye. There’s definitely a certain melancholy that comes over you when you hook up and head home. But you promise to do it again. And you exchange recipes and contact info and ride off into the sunset.

I love this picture that was posted on the Sisters on the Fly page yesterday. I asked the photographer for permission to use it, which she graciously gave. It really summed up that melancholic feeling you get when the party’s over. Thank you, Rebecca, for such a great shot! ❤️

“As soon as he had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.” ‭‭1 Samuel‬ ‭18:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When Things Don't Go As Planned

Fri, 22 Sep 2017 01:55:46 -0600

The first two of our three day getaway was perfect. The weather was moderate. We hiked, fished, lazed around, read, cooked, and sat out long after dark watching the boats go up and down the river. We had to go into town Wednesday to salvage some doors, windows, and light fixtures out of a structure that’s being torn down today. It was hot, dirty work and by 2:00, we were done. We ran some errands then headed to a restaurant for lunch. We’ve eaten salads there before but I was hungry so I ordered a chicken salad wrap and fries. We left to head back up to the river to the campground and within 10 minutes, I was sick as a dog. The thing that scared me was my heart was doing weird things and I felt faint. Mr. FixIt took me to the hospital. They kept me overnight for observation and did a ton of tests. They finally decided they thought I had food poisoning. I got home from the hospital yesterday and unhooked the camper and went to bed.

There comes a point when you have to realize…even though you may FEEL 24…when you’re 64…you ARE 64! That’s not “old” by any stretch of the imagination. But for the first time in a long time…I feel my age. I have to slow down just a little bit. Not enough to stop. But enough to take care of myself.

Not the way I wanted my little getaway to go. But I need to listen to my body and not keep pushing so hard. Today, I mattress surf! ❤️

“Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭6:19-20‬ ‭NLT‬‬

My Lot in Life

Sat, 16 Sep 2017 01:55:20 -0600

For those of you who’ve been following me for awhile, you remember what a struggle it was to downsize when I sold my house. Getting rid of 95% of my personal belongings just a year after losing Mr. Virgo was very stressful. I have been so careful not to accumulate “stuff” again. But, I’ve got to tell ya…this Country Living Fair is exceptional. I think this is my third in a row and it seems each one gets better. I will have to say, there were a lot more people here on opening day than the last two years. If that’s any indication of the overall attendance, we’re in for a whale of an event!

When you work a Fair such as this, you try to have enough people helping that you can take breaks and wander around. As I was walking over to the main stage for Janine’s talk yesterday, I spied some windmill vanes and stopped after to price them. The one in this photo was a half vane for $600! One with two less fins was $400. Still way out of my price range. My daughter’s sister-in-law has one she got from the family ranch and has it mounted on the wall in her dining room. I’d love to have one, but A) I’m not spending that kind of money and B) I don’t have anyplace to put it right now, and C) experiences before stuff. I could have a really great trip for $600.

Wandering the aisles of the fair is so tempting. I will tell you what I bought yesterday. A nice serving of Miss Parolee’s Kentucky Deep-Dish Blackberry Cobbler warmed up with a scoop of Vanilla Ice Cream. Windmill vane. Miss Parolee’s cobbler. I think I made the better choice! ❤️

“Even so, I have noticed one thing, at least, that is good. It is good for people to eat, drink, and enjoy their work under the sun during the short life God has given them, and to accept their lot in life. And it is a good thing to receive wealth from God and the good health to enjoy it. To enjoy your work and accept your lot in life—this is indeed a gift from God. God keeps such people so busy enjoying life that they take no time to brood over the past.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭5:18-20‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Ooooom-Pa-Pa!

Fri, 15 Sep 2017 01:55:43 -0600

I arrived at the Country Living Fair in the early afternoon yesterday and met my Girl Camper friends. We had to wait our turn to pull the three campers into the grounds so we sat around and nibbled on finger foods and caught up with what’s been going on in each other’s lives. Girl Camper extraordinaire, Janine Pettit, regaled us with stories of her epic month long trip to the National Parks out west this summer. Gail shared that her daughter is going to live overseas for a year. Jill was excited about her new-to-her Airstream she recently redecorated. I shared the article from the Fidelity online magazine. Sisters and Girl Campers always pick up where we left off the last time.

I don’t know if you’ve ever gone to a Country Living Fair but the amount of work that goes on in the background to set something up this massive and intricate is astounding. We drove in on cue when it was our turn. The area where we set up is pretty tight and it took a great deal of maneuvering to get all three campers in just right. I’m glad I have some mad backing up skills because they came in handy yesterday!

Once the three campers were set up, they had to be “staged”. You’ve all seen those cute campers in the magazines with all the vintage collectibles or great quilts or baskets of flowers? All those things were placed there with an eye much more skilled than mine. When these girls were finished, it looked just like a photo shoot! I can’t wait to take pictures today!

As I walked through the fair grounds, the displays were eye candy for someone who cannot resist the colorful, glossy pages of Country Living Magazine. It’s like the magazine itself has come alive…its pages exploding on the grounds all around you! Antiques, linens, rusty farm implements, artsy clothing and jewelry…you name it, it’s here. Including the kitchen sink. It’s truly one of the most beautiful fairs of its kind in the country. I’m so looking forward to browsing when I can.

I’ve read Country Living Magazine for years. Now that I’m living a country life, it would be so easy to accumulate too much stuff again and, seriously…I really don’t want to go through that kind of downsizing ever again. I carefully curate what comes in my house now. I only have what is useful and I know to be beautiful. The trouble is…there is SO much that I find beautiful. So my third measure is…Would I rather have this “thing” or go someplace with that money. Experience over stuff wins just about every time.

We ended the evening at a German restaurant where the highlight of the evening was a group of dinner guests playing cowbells to the tune “Edelweiss”. You can’t make this stuff up!

Stay tuned…I may not be able to resist some extra posts today when I see something pretty! ❤️

“Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

He Will Cover You With His Feathers

Thu, 14 Sep 2017 01:55:17 -0600

It’s hard to believe exactly four-and-a-half years ago, I was preparing a funeral for a man I never dreamed of losing. Mr. Virgo was gone in a heartbeat, literally, and I was left to make some sense and order out of the chaos left behind. Looking back on it with today’s vision, I can see so many things I would have done differently. I don’t think I made huge mistakes, but I think if I would have known then what I know now, there are definitely things I would have done differently.

I hosted the Sisters on the Fly event over the weekend and there were a couple fairly new widows there. They did well, enjoyed themselves, and were very capable campers. I could see through all that to the pain that lay beneath the surface. I recognized them…I was there not all that long ago myself.

A couple of years ago, I was contacted by a writer and published author of many books on women and finance. She was writing an article for the New York Times on widowhood and retirement and asked if she could interview me. We have stayed in touch over the last couple of years and she has followed my blog. Recently I heard from her again. She had been asked by Fidelity to write an article about widowhood and investing and immediately thought of me. We spoke again and I shared those things I felt I did right, and those I could have…should have…done differently.

The article for Fidelity’s “Viewpoints” online magazine went live yesterday and I am sharing it with you here. From the beginning, this blog was meant not only as a way to share and heal my own grief, but also to serve as a place to learn, grow, and experience support if you are grieving, and preparation if you aren’t. Knowledge is power and grief makes you feel totally powerless. I wish I would have had a grief mentor in my early stages of loss. I try to be that person for others. If it weren’t for God covering me with His feathers to guide, guard, and protect me, I never would have survived such a loss.

And now, here I am nearly five years after losing Mr. Virgo and I not only have survived, I am thriving. New life, new love, new experiences. I never would have dreamed this was possible. Today I leave for the Country Living Fair in Columbus, Ohio. Please stop by for a visit if you are in the area! ❤️

https://www.fidelity.com/viewpoints/personal-finance/8-financial-tips-for-widows

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭91:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Jersey Girls

Tue, 12 Sep 2017 01:55:31 -0600

We had such a mish-mash of gals at the SOTF event this weekend. I’ve heard so much about Jean Taylor over the years that I felt I already knew her, even though we’d never met. She came with three of her umpteen cousins and they were an absolute hoot and a half. They love to “camp”. As a matter of fact, Jean owns a campground in New Jersey. I am not sure how “campy” the others get, seeing how the sum of their experience thus far seemed to be staying in the motor home at the campground. But I loved them. You know why? Because they didn’t know you could make ice cream by hand. They’d never seen the Milky Way. They hadn’t heard of clogging in any other sense than what cholesterol does to your arteries. They were delightful!

One story they told was how, very early on, their great grandfather lived in WV. He was an Italian immigrant and a miner with a huge family. And, as any good Italian did, he made wine for their consumption. Apparently, the revenuers caught wind of this, raided his home and broke all the bottles of wine. Great-grandma sent one of the kids to the mine to tell papa not to come home and why. He took off for New Jersey and stayed there till grandma could get there with the children. Thus, they put down roots in NJ. If not for the revenuers, how many more West Virginians would we have?

I named them “Honorary Hillbillies”…those wonderful Italian women from New Jersey!

We also had a published author of historical romances. A woman who owned a farm, played guitar, and is learning to drive horses. There were a few widows. There was a woman simultaneously going to college and living in her new Airstream as she explores the country over the next eighteen months. There were three moms of autistic children who bonded over that. There were artists and nurses, retired and employed. They slept in everything from cars to tents to vintage campers to modern campers to a brand new Airstream. Yet they all have one thing in common…they are Sisters. A fact that is never taken lightly. I am so proud to be a member of this organization and look forward to more gatherings with them. ❤️

“She is more precious than jewels, and nothing you desire can compare with her.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Sisters on the Fly

Wed, 06 Sep 2017 01:55:09 -0600

What is Sisters on the Fly?

It’s the world’s largest outdoor adventure group for women. We have affected the lives of over 9,000 women from around the world. Our motto is “We have more fun than anyone!” And it’s true! Sister gatherings are jam packed with fun and we turn women into girls.

What do the Sisters do at their gatherings?

We do a number of things! Some of us fly fish. Some ride horses or mountain bikes. We love to go junkin’ and eat great food. Some hike. Some play and listen to music. Whatever floats your boat. And speaking of floating your boat, we are going to ride the sternwheeler on the Ohio River over to visit the Blennerhassett Mansion this week. We love to eat so we’re going to have an old fashioned weenie roast. My Pop-Pop whittled the end of sharp sticks for roasting weenies and marshmallows. We’ll serve them the WV way with sauce and slaw. We are playing music and listening to music and maybe even clog dance. Sisters will try just about anything!

How can I be a Sister?

You can have more fun that anyone by heading over to www.sistersonthfly.com and signing up. Dues are $70 a year and there are gatherings of every interest all around the globe.

What kind of women become Sisters on the Fly?

Bold women. Shy women. Women with campers. Women with tents. Women who prefer the lodge or a fine hotel or a cabin. Single women. Taken women. Married women. Widowed women. Young women. Old women. Key word is Women. No men. (Sorry, guys!) No kids. (Sorry, kids!) and, no pets.

These gals love to eat! I shopped yesterday. Such a wise shopper I have become. This big grocery cart ended up costing $150! I was impressed. We will see how the menu and activities go over. I’ve done the planning, the shopping and the prep. As my friend V says…it’s time for the fun! ❤️

“Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

(Photos from older Sisters on the Fly gatherings.)

Words

Fri, 01 Sep 2017 01:55:56 -0600

I have seldom been at a loss for words. My mom always said I had “the gift of gab”. I was always a little insulted by that because I was sure she was saying “You talk too much!” Ok…I’ll have to admit…I do have a lot to say. About everything.

Some of my very best writing has come from my very deepest pain. As difficult as it was to go through, that kind of writing is actually a whole lot easier than writing from a place of joy. Of peace. Of love. Writing from pain is cathartic. It releases energy and the words have a life of their own. Someone told me I had “lost my focus” a little while after I introduced Mr. FixIt to the story. That has niggled at me ever since. She’s right…in a way. But not in the way she thinks.

Here’s the thing. I was driving to the farm last night after spending a lovely day in town. I am putting some finishing touches on the event I am hosting next week for the Sisters on the Fly. Between that, the trip to Colorado, the trailer breaking down, the return trip to get it, catching up with stuff around the farm, the Centennial Celebration at my high school, and nurturing a new love relationship…I haven’t been keeping my focus where it belongs. Not on grief, but on God. I was driving along that twisty turny two lane and started talking to Him. Then I realized…I hadn’t been keeping Him at the center of my life for a little while. I took my focus off for just a moment and that led me down a path I don’t like. Peter was walking on water toward Jesus when he took his eyes off Him…and sank immediately.

I had a long discussion with God…it’s a forty-five minute ride, you know. I made my apologies and I’ll try to do better. Because everything is better when I keep God at the center of my life. My relationships. My writing. My life. It has to be more than just lip service, this profession of faith. Keeping that fire in my belly keeps me from drowning…and keeps my words flowing. ❤️

““Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭14:28-33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Photo Credit: Shutterstock

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

Back on the Farm

Sat, 26 Aug 2017 01:55:41 -0600

It’s been a year since I put down roots here on the family farm. Well, as deep a root as I can put and not own property. What a remarkable year! I battled fleas, painted walls, mowed, trimmed, pruned, cleaned, sorted, dehumidifier, and about scared myself to death that I had ruined the well or burned up the pump. I’ve learned to stop letting grief steal my joy. I’ve learned to let go of the fear of loss and clear out enough room in my life to accommodate the love of a sweet man. I’ve spoken in front of crowds, large and small. I started blogging for Sisters on the Fly as well as here on Marshmallow Ranch. I bought a vintage camper to fix up. I’ve been to Colorado twice, Florida twice, the Outer Banks, Tennessee, Savannah, Amish Country, and a fun trip to a WVU basketball game. I’ve been to concerts galore…Garth Brooks, SHEL, Brandy Carlisle to name a few. I’ve camped at some pretty cool places. I’ve been interviewed for podcasts and articles. I’ve lost some people in one way or another and I’ve gained more. I spent some wonderful time with my family. I’ve grown stronger in my faith. And I fell in love. All in one year! Whew!

We got home from the trip to Indiana and It was almost dark. I had to back this camper up into the driveway and it was more challenging as the light faded. I got it in ok and Mr. FixIt was a real trooper coaching me along. He filmed it. It might be funny…I don’t know. I haven’t taken the time to look at it yet.

We are going to a class picnic today so as soon as I walked in last night, I mixed up a yellow cake to bake. I’ll make Penuche Frosting this morning so it’s nice and fresh. I looked through Grandma’s notebook hoping to find her recipe but it wasn’t there. Her Brown Sugar Pie recipe was though. I’ll have to make that soon…it’s wonderful!

As I sat and wrote this, Mr. FixIt asked if I could hear the owl. I couldn’t until I went to the front door. I recorded it for you and posted it last night so be sure you catch it. It’s the Eastern Screech Owl we heard the other evening on our walk. Oh…we visited with the neighbor down the road he other evening. He had a health scare while we were in Colorado and I was so happy to see him out working in his garden! It’s just another reminder how uncertain life is.

If you are in Texas, or have loved ones there, you are in my prayers. Please check in and let us know how you’re doing.

Yes…it’s been an amazing year on the farm, hasn’t it? Big things, little things, fun things, scary things. But we made it through. We’ll keep on keeping on and I’ll keep telling you these stories about this crazy, beautiful life I am privileged to lead. Thank you all for being here! ❤️

“and having a reputation for good works: if she has brought up children, has shown hospitality, has washed the feet of the saints, has cared for the afflicted, and has devoted herself to every good work.” ‭‭1 Timothy‬ ‭5:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Back to Business as Usual? Not so Fast!

Tue, 22 Aug 2017 01:55:18 -0600

Ok, move along…nothing to see here. Just a boxer in some goggles…looking uber cool, I might add! This is Chloe. I met her and her human, Kelly, at Point Park yesterday. All weekend I’d been poo-pooing this whole eclipse madness as though the entire world had gone ‘round the bend. I was on my way back to the farm yesterday…fully intending to go home and mow, when I got a call that something I was having repaired was ready for pickup. I hadn’t gone far out the two-lane so I turned around and headed back. Mr. FixIt called and when he found out where I was, he came to join me. (Mr. FixIt would crawl through glass to see me. He told me so. ?) So, there we were, nothing to do, with a nearly total eclipse about to occur. And…I went silly!

I asked the clerk for a couple pieces of paper. I got a manila envelope with a large hole for the clasp. And, I punched a smaller one in it with an earring post. Whatever works, right? We took off for McDonalds to arm ourselves with cold drinks and headed for Point Park. It was hot! The light started to change. I wasn’t getting the right distance to get a clear picture with the pinhole projector I had jury rigged. There was a couple standing next to us that offered to share their eclipse glasses. A few others gathered. And for one glorious hour, we were treated to a taste of what life was like in the olden days. You know…pre-election. We had an awesome goal…share a cool experience and have fun! And then it hit me. THAT’S what the whole over-the-top, staggeringly silly, brouhaha was all about…these mega gatherings. We just wanted an escape. A reminder of our humanity. A reminder there is peace and goodness and kindness in the world. It filled me with hope of brighter days ahead.

We have the power to turn this around…this sense of frustration and fear. It’s all about focus. What we focus on is what we see. Yesterday it was the sun. Today…what will it be? For me? I’m looking for joy. Joy created by others. And joy which I can create. C’mon…let’s change the story. Let’s go do the good stuff. Look at Chloe, The Boxer. She changed the story with a pair of shades! ❤️

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭2:4‬ ‭ESV‬

A Change in the Air

Tue, 15 Aug 2017 01:55:29 -0600

Even though it is only the middle of August, there is a definite change in the air. There are leaves changing already and the woods have taken on the “tired green” of late summer, having spent their glorious stores of chlorophyll in the peak of summer. Yesterday dawned cloudy and relatively cool and soon the sky gifted us with a gentle rain that lasted most of the day. So much for mowing the lawn.

I’m sitting on the front porch at the farm as I write this, watching the goldfinches fight over the socks of thistle seeds. Boy Cat and Old Mama Kitty are keeping me company as I listen to the rain pattering on the leaves in the nearby woods. The sun is trying to break through and make its first appearance of the day, just shy of 5:00. Since I couldn’t mow, I drove to town and ran errands. I am hosting a Sisters on the Fly event September 7-10 and I needed to make arrangements. I have 23 women signed up so far and registration is still open if you would like to attend.

I felt much better today…stronger, better rested. I have been thinking about triggers and how they stimulate the grief response. At first, everything is a trigger. When you are in the acute stages of grief, your feelings are like a frayed electric cord, ready to shock you at the slightest touch. After some time, things even out a bit but it is still amazing how the tiniest thing can trigger grief. When you’ve had a long stretch without a meltdown, you can get a little complacent, thinking maybe you’re through all that. So it kind of takes you by surprise when a new wave comes. That was what I felt over the weekend.

As I was driving through town yesterday, I was coming up to a stoplight when I heard an ambulance approaching. I stopped and waited for it to come through from my left and make the turn towards the hospital. There was an elderly man seated in the front passenger seat and I suddenly flashed back to the ambulance ride taking Mr. Virgo to the ER from the RV dealership where he had his heart attack. I hadn’t thought about that drive for quite some time. For a brief moment, my eyes met those of the man in the front seat and I recognized that panicked and confused look on his face. There was a slight set of the jaw that was familiar. “Ok, ok, ok….let’s get this done. Be strong. Just breathe.” At least, that’s what went through my mind when I was in his shoes.

I didn’t have a reaction to this trigger. I was prepared. It’ll be a while before I have another grief response, I imagine. I’m a bit more on guard now. That’s a relief of sorts. I hate when the wave comes unexpectedly. For now, I’ll sit on the porch and watch the rain as the light changes and the hummingbirds fight over the feeder…and wait for Mr. FixIt to call so I can start supper. History repeats itself and life goes on. ❤️

“And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When Darkness Calls

Mon, 14 Aug 2017 01:55:05 -0600

I have some really great friends who look out for me. They each seem to have a role. My longest term friend “feels” when something is wrong and she needs to reach out right away. Others send articles for my reference and give me a heads up when I have a typo in a post. They know I cannot STAND typos. One sends me the funniest memes I have ever seen on the internet and spends equal time kicking me in the butt when I need it…which is more often than you may imagine. My old high school chum, Marion, sent me an excellent article the other day about what the first year of widowhood was like for Jodi of the blog Extra Grace Required. She listed the important things she learned that first year. If memory serves, I’ve written a few of those missives myself. We live and we learn and we grow as we crawl our way along on this grief journey.

Just because I have found new love, doesn’t mean I have miraculously “gotten over” the loss of Mr. Virgo. It means I’ve grown. It means my heart has healed enough to make room for more love in my life. It certainly does NOT mean I never have a bad day or have sad feelings. And here’s what’s most important. My bad days or my sad feelings have absolutely nothing to do with my love for Mr. FixIt. It’s complicated loving two men…one here, one not quite so much. It’s easy to love this wonderful man I’ve known almost as long as I can remember. I just have to incorporate a lot of feelings at once which is made more difficult when I’m tired and not feeling up to par.

One of the things Jodi noticed after her first year is, she feels the grief of others more easily. Before loss, grief is sad, you feel bad for the one who has lost a loved one, you have your own feelings to sort out about your relationship with the departed. But, once it has happened so close to home that your heart has literally been ripped out of your chest, the grief of others is not so easily compartmentalized. Someone close to me lost a son-in-law this summer. I spoke to the widow on the phone Saturday, giving some support, acknowledging feelings, commiserating, feeling. When she broke down into those guttural cries I still remember so vividly, my heart squeezed tight, my throat closed, my stomach churned, I got hot and sweaty, my fight or flight response kicked in big time. I held it together. I didn’t crumble….until late in the night. I couldn’t go to sleep. My head was pounding and my heart ached for this young woman who is so new in this journey. I tossed and turned. I used my Rescue Remedy. When sleep wouldn’t come, I changed course and walked around the dimly lit house until I felt I could settle down. I finally slept, but didn’t feel much better when I awoke.

So, it was one of THOSE days. Out of sorts. Off my feed. I didn’t even want coffee…gasp! It was a tea and oatmeal and crackers and lay low kind of day. Not exactly a day spent mattress-surfing, but close. The best part was…Mr. FixIt was there to offer comfort and support and love. He was totally nonjudgmental. He is a remarkable man. He just listened and held me and that’s all I needed. After a while, I was feeling better. Not fine, but ok. I sent him home to do whatever he needed to do for the afternoon and I settled in with my thoughts and processed.

Process.. That’s what this whole thing is. It doesn’t matter if it’s one year or five years or twenty-five…grief is a process. It doesn’t always hit me like this anymore…thank God. The biggest lesson I’ve learned in all of this is, when the wave hits, don’t fight it. Let it carry you to a place of self-discovery and love. And when you’re ready, dust yourself off, wash your face, and get back to the business of living. Because, that’s what we’re here for. ❤️

extragracerequired.com/2017/03/2…

“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

Road Trip: Day Twenty-Six..."On Sharing"

Wed, 02 Aug 2017 01:55:19 -0600

There has been a major shift within me this trip. I wasn’t sure going into this vacation how I would react sharing the space that is mine in Colorado with both Mr. Virgo’s memory and Mr. FixIt’s presence. How would everything fit? At home on the farm in West Virginia, Mr. Virgo only occupies space in my mind and heart as well as what few tangible things I have kept that were his. Here, he lives in the mountains, he sits in the sunsets, he whispers in the wind that blows through the trees. He’s everywhere. Would he distract me too much? How would I feel entertaining two men…one very much here, the other very much real but not here?

I took this wonderful man to “meet” Mr. Virgo and I needn’t have worried. He respected my space. He listened intently. He waited patiently. And at the perfect moment, he walked up behind me, wrapped me in his arms and said, “I’m so sorry, Ginny. I know this was so hard for you. You’ve been through so much and you are very brave.” His arms were a comfort. My fingers intertwined with his as I leaned back against him. I felt his warm breath in my hair. For a moment, I remembered what this same position felt like with Mr. Virgo. Then I let it go…like a feather on a breeze…dancing and floating away from me.

Time has allowed me perspective and healing. Choice has brought me ever onward and upward. Prayer has given me strength where there was none. Mr. FixIt has given me…Love. Hope. Trust. Joy. Peace. Companionship. Friendship. Laughter. Stability. Comfort. Contact. Connection. I am grateful. This shift has a lot to do with all of the above. Sharing this space with my new love is helping me to, yet again, redefine its meaning. Redefine who I am…redefine my “status”. I know it’s different for everyone. For me, at four and a half years…it’s a choice. I choose love. It is my purpose in life. It is the one thing I am to practice, to hone my skill at. To emulate in a Christ-like way. Not just my love for Mr. FixIt or Mr. Virgo…but for everyone.

I’ve been asked when I will share a picture of Mr. FixIt with you. And the answer is…not in his lifetime. Not a definable picture, anyway. Distance, maybe. From the back, sure. His hands, definitely. He has the hands of a hard-working man and I love them. But I won’t be sharing his name or his face because those are mine. I share everything else with you…my pain, my fears, my hopes, my joys, my struggles, and my triumphs. I do so without reservation as this is my platform…my purpose. I share to spread love and promote healing. This one great thing…this glimpse into who he really is in real life…is the one tangible thing I will fervently protect.

Yesterday was a day shared with loved ones. My heart is full. ❤️

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. 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 13:2-7 NIV

Road Trip: Day Twenty..."Another Day in Paradise"

Wed, 26 Jul 2017 01:55:09 -0600

Last week I reported to you that Mr. Virgo was in my dreams two nights running saying he was leaving me. He appeared again Sunday night. In this dream I found out that he had some sort of neurological problem and that’s why he decided to go on and not try to come back. He was brought to me in a black limousine. They told me he was coming and that I could see him the way he would have looked had he survived the heart attack. When the car pulled up, he rolled down the window and he had obvious neurological damage, yet in the dream, he could still stand. He got out of the limo and looked at me so sad. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He said it was HE who was sorry he had to leave me like that. I pulled away from him and said, “You know how much I love you, right?” He said of course he did. I said, “Well, I’ve met someone wonderful and I love him, too. I can’t leave him now.” His eyes softened and he wrapped me in his arms and whispered into my hair, “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.” And…I woke up. Three times in a week he’s been in my dreams and he hasn’t been here that much in the last four and a half years. I think it’s because I’ve brought Mr. FixIt here to Colorado…turf that, up until now, belonged to Mr. Virgo and me.

It was still dark…the first hint of daylight tinting the eastern sky. I lay there quietly, listening to the soft breathing of this wonderful man I have come to love. “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.” I smiled in the darkness, snuggled closer, and went back to sleep.

We were up bright and early yesterday. Lots to do…doctor’s appointment and pick up the replacement thermostat (it’s still not in after two more stops in the RV dealer). We went out for breakfast then stopped to visit Mr. Virgo’s grave. I left one of the painted rocks that I’ve found recently that said “I love your smile!” It made ME smile. Then I took Mr. FixIt up to Rifle Falls State Park. In all the years I lived here, I had never been there. We hiked up to the top, took lots of pictures, and headed back to town to take my brother out to dinner again. Afterwards, we stopped at the grocery store and ran into Rob and Jordan, two young men from Virginia who had built this funky trailer from scratch and are on a five month trek across the country. They have a YouTube channel called Fantasy Jive ( www.youtube.com/channel/U… ) What an adventure!

A trip to Lowe’s rounded out the day. We needed some wire connectors and wire stripper for the thermostat project. With the groceries put away, we finally had time to sit in our new chairs and listen to the river rushing through the canyon as the sun set. We stayed the last two nights at Glenwood Canyon Resort…one of the most beautiful places to camp in Colorado, in my opinion. While the sites are rather close together, there’s nothing like sitting and staring up at the steep canyon walls directly across the river from your campsite. Trains run through the canyon at all hours, but if you’re like me, they make you smile.

Today we break camp and head on to our next stop on this adventure. Stay tuned to see what we are up to next!❤️

“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.” ‭‭John‬ ‭14:16-17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Fifteen "Focus"

Fri, 21 Jul 2017 01:55:09 -0600

Moose

I am in my fifth year writing this blog. The original page was intended to showcase art jewelry I was making out of antique silverware and maps. Then Mr. Virgo died and it morphed into a grief blog. I dealt solely with the monumental task of putting one foot in front of the other and surviving that horrid loss. In an effort to cope, I put something joyful in front of me in the form of a small camper and a group of spunky women who liked to travel and have adventures. The focus gradually shifted from the darkness of death to the possibility of living after loss and eventually I started breathing again. With each stage of grief, with each right of passage, with each new thing, the focus of my writing has shifted to accommodate the change du jour.

A reader commented yesterday that my site has “lost its focus”. I had to sit down and give myself a good self-examination. For what seemed like an eternity, the only thing I could talk about was pain and death and grief and darkness. Thank God that’s not the focus of all my writing any more. It means I’m healing. So, what IS the “focus of my site”? Trailers, camping, travel, Girl Campers and Sisters on the Fly? Not entirely. My family in Colorado and West Virginia? Somewhat. The farm and the cats? Sometimes. God and how He has touched my life and moved mountains? Much of the time. My writing is all of these things and more. I’m part storyteller, part preacher, part analyst, part therapist. I’m part comedienne, part realist, part widow, part mom. Because that’s what life is…it’s 10,000 things all at once so I write about the 10,000 things and try to make some sense of it all. Because out there…somewhere out there is a widow that’s hurting, a wife who was left, a child who was molested. And somewhere in here is a story that just might help one of them, whether it seems unfocused or not.

While the subject matter of my blog has indeed varied over the years, my focus has not. My focus is to help people in any way I can. To be of service. To quote John Keats, “Love is my religion…”. I will admit, writer’s block has me occasionally writing diary-like posts a la Bridget Jones. And this new, wild and wonderful love story I’ve got going on here is distracting, to say the least. I take constructive criticism to heart and I will try to write more focused essays in the future. I have no problem hearing constructive criticism. We all have room for improvement. ❤️

“Whoever heeds life-giving correction will be at home among the wise.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭15:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Fill 'er Up

Tue, 22 Nov 2016 02:30:23 -0600

“Get your tank filled.”

Borrowing from part of Sunday’s sermon, I’m going to run with this. I took the Ford in to get the oil changed and new brakes and asked them to check the engine. It had been running a little rough, I thought. After carefully checking it over, they determined I probably got a bad batch of gas and it would work itself out. I usually buy the lowest grade unless I’m towing my camper. That’s when I put high test in it…when I need to make sure it runs well and has the most energy.

Our bodies are like that F-150 engine. If we put crappy food in it, it isn’t going to perform at its best. You’ll be sluggish. The better your food intake, the more you can accomplish in your life.

We need to feed our spirits in the same way. If you don’t feed your soul with “happy”, you can’t possibly reflect that back into the world. That doesn’t mean all sadness can be rectified with a big dose of happy…it can’t. But, you can ask my daughters. The first trip out after Mr. Virgo died…even before the funeral…I made them take me to Target and I bought every funny movie I could find in the $5 bin because I knew I was going to need that. We went home, popped popcorn, and had a comedy marathon. It helped tremendously to bring some normalcy into a distinctly abnormal, tragic situation.

Just like using a computer, “garbage in, garbage out” is relevant in so many areas of our lives. But we have to make choices. I know it’s not as simple as that, but putting joyful things in front of you goes a long way to helping lighten the load of grief. ❤️

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” James‬ ‭1:2-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Nest

Mon, 21 Nov 2016 02:30:02 -0600

“A bird’s nest from the farm.”

One late fall day, I was walking down the long drive to get the mail and paper when I noticed an abandoned nest in the ditch. I’m not familiar enough to know what kind of bird made it although it is lined with mud. I know swallows do that. I picked up the little nest and sat it on the end of the old wooden ironing board I use as a perch for the cats and there it sat. That is, until I “decorated” for the holidays. I thought it looked better sitting beside the old hunting boots I found in a barrel downstairs.

One of the joys of living out on the farm is the vast number and variety of birds here. I could hardly wait to put out bird feeders. I have them situated so I can see them from the rocking chair in the front window. They remind me of a verse in the Bible that tells us not to worry about getting the things we need because if God provides for the sparrow, he will certainly provide for us. Everything a bird needs is found in nature. Our added efforts to draw them in with extra food only baits them for our viewing pleasure. But, even though God gives the worm, he doesn’t provide room service. The birds still have to get out every day and forage for sustenance. They have to work for their blessings…they just don’t worry about it. Good advice.

God has buckets of blessings with our name on them. They are the blessings HE wants for us…not our selfish requests. HE wants to prosper us, but on HIS terms…not ours. I can’t just sit here in the rocking chair and wait for UPS to hand deliver my blessings. I have to suit up and show up. I have to prepare myself through prayer and meditation. I have to treat my body like the temple it is with proper food and activity. I have to maintain my health. For me, personally…I have to be in the Word every day. I have to practice all three parts of Matthew 7:7…ask, seek, and knock. The action words. When I “ask”, I ask for the blessings HE wants to give me. When I “seek”, I ask how I can best serve HIM, not the other way around. And when I “knock”, I beg God to open the door to His heart and shower me with the abundance HE has in mind. That is how I “work for my supper”. He feeds my spirit AND my life.

So, just as the bird must work for the blessing of food, so do I. I am grateful for the beauty…and the bounty…in my life. ❤️

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

First Snow

Sun, 20 Nov 2016 02:30:10 -0600

“Snowflake”

This is a big turning point in the year…the first snowflakes. They excite us. The holidays are coming. The turkey is probably thawing in your fridge. You are making your menu. You’ve shopped for the food. You’ve pulled out the recipes. You’ve invited family and friends. The games are scheduled. The marching bands will be descending on New York City any day. The workers are preparing the floats and the giant balloons. Deer season is starting. And here they are…the first flakes of snow.

I was standing in the Cook’s Store in Marietta after lunch yesterday when I overheard a couple talking about a bundt pan. The man admitted he used his as a water bowl for his dog. I tried not to show them I had overheard, but I was shaking as I laughed silently. I couldn’t help it. The look of horror on the face of the woman with him was classic! They noticed me and suddenly we were all having a grand, knee-slapping laugh. It was fun. It released a lot of stress to interact with total strangers with abandon. No agenda. We chatted a while then went on our way.

I moved to the la Cruset display in the front window and saw a beautiful red tea pot. I look out the window and caught the first snowflakes of the season. I could hear the tea kettle whistle in my imagination so I brought that little red teapot to the little red farmhouse. We will have many lovely moments together.

I lay in bed in the pale flickering candlelight and heard the icy snow hit the dry leaves with the same sound of sizzling bacon and wondered if it will amount to much. How will it affect my drive to church tomorrow? The first flakes of snow. The harbinger of change.

Winter.

May she come in peace. ❤️

“He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’ So that everyone he has made may know his work, he stops all people from their labor.” Job‬ ‭37:6-7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

On Being Passionate

Thu, 17 Nov 2016 02:30:33 -0600

“A word from the wise.”

It’s been a little over a week since the election. I don’t know about you…but I felt emotionally and physically exhausted after being subjected to such derision and anger on a daily basis. I, quite literally, was numb from the whole process and escaped through a cleaning frenzy the likes of which this house has not seen in years. And that’s from a woman who never watched TV throughout the entire campaign. I jumped on the Peace Train. I prayed and wrote and meditated and tried to wrap my head around the whole thing. Who I voted for doesn’t matter as much as the fact that I voted…there’s problems from both sides. I ride in the neutral zone here on The Ranch because politics raises passions and I respect you all…regardless of politics.

One SHOULD be passionate about one’s beliefs. This election highlighted how divided we are as a nation. While I preach a message of peace, that doesn’t mean I should shirk my duties as a concerned, active citizen. I should learn everything there is to know about the issues that effect the world today. And…I can do that without hurting anyone. It is my responsibility to be a contributing member of society and research legislation so I can make informed choices in the polling booth.

This isn’t easy for me. Conflict makes me extremely uncomfortable…being the child of an alcoholic can make it very difficult to be around verbal disagreements. However, I can still suit up and show up without entering into the fray. I can be passionate about being the change I want to see in the world. I don’t have to advertise my position in order to affect change. I can help…and I can do it from a place of love. ❤️

“Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs‬ ‭19:21‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The List

Wed, 16 Nov 2016 02:30:53 -0600

“Digital painting of the Ohio River at sunset.”

I still suffer from “grief brain” to some extent. Or maybe it’s just the natural progression of aging. Or a combination of the two. I don’t know. What I DO know is, I have a whole list of things in my head at night when I lay down. I think of a dozen things I should have done during the day. And a dozen more that come to mind as my brain notices I want to go to sleep so it pops up and says “Here’s twenty-four things to remember in the morning. No fair getting up and writing it down!” So, it takes forever to go to sleep and…I wake up knowing there were twenty-four things and I remember, like…two. SO frustrating!

I thought I was done with lists when I quit working and things got done at my leisure. Then Mr. Virgo died. My brain felt like I dropped a hair dryer in the bathtub while I was in it. I couldn’t remember anything to save my soul. It has gotten much, much better…but I think I will always have this lingering need to make lists now. And maybe write down where I park my car…and put my keys, etc. Now, I have to write lists, set alarms, send myself texts. If not, things get missed.

The thing about lists now that I’m living 45 minutes from town is, I don’t shop as frequently so the lists get really long. And I end up spending all day running around from place to place. That was my day yesterday. I ended the day on a bright note, however. I met a friend for dinner and took time to watch the sunset over the beautiful Ohio River. And still, the moon is super. Thirteen deer on the road coming home last night. Today is trash day…and the beat goes on. ❤️

“The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy.”
Psalm‬ ‭65:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Gift

Sat, 12 Nov 2016 02:30:39 -0600

Every day I open my eyes and look out the window to the right of my bed here at the farm. I smile when I see the sun just touching the ridge across the road and I thank God for the gift of another day. I look around the room that my grandparents shared for thirty-some years. My eyes settle on an old grainy black and white picture of six children, blissfully unaware that they were poor as church mice. My mother, the eldest, stands in the back, her head cocked with a wry smile on her pretty face. I don't think my mother ever believed she was beautiful but with her wavy raven hair, dancing green eyes, and quick, open smile...she was darling. I smile back at my mama and her siblings. Half of my loved ones in this photo are gone now, their smiles left frozen for all time in a cheap 5x7 metal frame.

I reach for my phone to check the news, weather, and e-mails. I check in with messaging and answer anything that came in overnight. I get up and make my coffee and cereal. Then I "come to The Ranch" and sit with you here. I read every one of your comments and respond in some way...either a "like" or a comment in return. I do that because I want you to know I read every word you write. The words you share with me move me. They make me think. They remind me of where I've been or give me hope for where I'm going. They humble me and touch my heart. They remind me how blessed I am and I am so grateful.

I had a conversation with my agent the other day. I sent my book proposal at the end of summer and I've been trying to write from the outline. I've been just frozen for weeks. I can't write that way. I am an extemporaneous writer...I tell story after story and weave them together like cloth. When I try to write from an outline it's about as interesting as reading the instructions included with your vacuum cleaner. So, frustrated, I told her I have to do this differently. I have to just write the book, then I can write the outline and then the book proposal. My biggest fear, I told her, is running out of time. I don't want to miss this opportunity because I'm stumbling in the dark. She assured me she isn't going anywhere...and that's a great relief! So, I keep plugging away.

After I read your comments and I interact, I do my chores and in the afternoon I sit down and write my post for the next day. Sometimes it's late in the afternoon and I sit in front of my "happy light". This week has been so gorgeous here in WV. We are having cold nights, but our days are unseasonably warm. Wednesday, I sat out on the front porch to write my post and I wanted to share my view with you. It is truly a gift to get to sit here with you every day. It is a gift to wake up to the same view out the same window that my grandparents looked through every morning. It is a gift to have friends and neighbors stop by for a cup of coffee or call with a cheery hello.

I know there is turmoil going on out there. I know there is backlash after the election, but I cannot "go out there". There's a reason I stopped watching TV when Mr. Virgo died. It's too distressing. I don't have my head in the sand. I know what's going on because I read the news. I just don't listen to endless rounds of talking heads spewing commentary. I find out what I need to know then I do something else. It's much better for my well-being. I know I'm pretty insulated here...but, it's the way I like it. The way I need it. For now anyway.

❤️

“Rejoice always,”‭‭
1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Eagle and The Owl

Thu, 10 Nov 2016 02:30:16 -0600

I have a friend who is going through a rough patch. A love has ended and she is going through the pain that brings. She is also a widow. We have never met in person, yet we are friends...sisters...on a "soular" level. As a matter of fact, we have only spoken on the phone once in the two years we've "known" each other. I've wanted it that way because it keeps the relationship pure...just two souls touching in the ether. Someday we will sit together in person.

In one of our recent conversations, I explained there are many loves that come into our lives. Loves that hold different roles. Loves that come. And loves that go. One of the loves we get sometimes comes in the form of "The Healer". Mr. Virgo was my healer. He held my heart and my hands while I poured out the pain and heartbreak that came with the ending of my second marriage. And he healed me. He touched my heart and soul. He listened. He held me close. It was what he was put here to do. My healer died. In my friend's case, her healer moved on.

Things work really great in your relationship with The Healer....until such time as you actually heal. That's when they sense it's time to move on. Their purpose has been fulfilled and they disengage and look for the next place to plug in. They will do this over and over and over until either they become enlightened, or they die. Then they get to do it all over again in the next life, if you believe in the recycling of souls. As difficult as it is to go through the pain of the leaving, it is an outward sign of YOUR personal growth...not his failure to provide for you, but the success of his purpose here. She said, "Now I'm healing from HIM! Is there no end?" To which I answered, "Yes...when your heart sees the gifts he gave you and they outweigh the pain his leaving caused. That is a matter of perspective, insight, time, and choice."

My friend asked, "When did you get so wise?" Well, it is something that has been growing in me since I came out of the wilderness after I lost Mr. Virgo. I feel it. It's alive and growing...this connection with the Holy Spirit, I call it. It is almost, but not quite, separate from my "self". I can tap into that energy and come up with wisdom and knowledge that isn't from "me". If that makes any sense.

I have become a crone. Not in the wizened, ugly old woman sense. But in the gaining of wisdom and experience that is a combination of faith, time, and meditation on the mysticism of the Holy Spirit. That part of God that is gifted to us when we dedicate our lives to a connection with Him. I am open to all the possibilities of God. This has been the most amazing part of my life's journey...to know exactly, with 100% certainty, what my purpose in life is. What I've been put here to do. That is the gift I was given in the wilderness and it has continued to grow and mature within me. It is pure love. It resonates with the universe, this connection with God...like touching tuning forks together. One gives its vibration to the other and they both sing. It is very real...this vibration. I can feel it. Or rather, I notice its absence when I am not on my path.

Many years ago, I sat with a Shaman...a Native American wise man. We were visiting and he stopped, cocked his head and said, "Tell me about the dream you had last night." Shivers went up my arms and the hair stood up on the back of my neck because...indeed...I had had a powerful dream just the night before. I told him I was standing naked in a field of wheat, under a full moon...the late summer wind warm on my skin. On my outstretched right arm perched an eagle. I raised my arm and the eagle soared higher and higher till it arced across the moon in silhouette. When it came back down to me, I stretched out my left arm and the eagle turned into a great snowy owl. It landed on my arm. I could feel his weight, his talons digging into my arm...not with pain, but with pressure.

My Shaman friend leaned back with a serious look on his face. "There is a powerful gift coming to you...a wisdom wide and deep that you will use to bring peace and love into the world. But this power frightens you. You will fight it. You will wrestle with it and it will very nearly kill you. But in your deepest, darkest times, that power and wisdom will lift you up, higher and higher until you stand where you are meant to stand...you will do what you are meant to do. This is your purpose. This is why you are here. Do not be afraid of the struggle or the pain. The gift is coming." Everything he said to me came true. I fought...I nearly died. I turned away. But when I walked into the wilderness without fear...when I had lost everything with the loss of Mr. Virgo, and I shed my pain...the gift has come. The gift of knowing....knowing exactly what I was put here on earth to do. And the strength to do it.

My gift is not my own. It is God...working through me because I open myself to be the vessel. The instrument of His peace. I am blessed beyond belief to have the opportunities He gives me and I don't pretend to understand how it happened. But I am grateful and will do my best to be worthy.

❤️

““I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.””
‭‭John‬ ‭16:12-15‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Home

Tue, 25 Oct 2016 01:30:00 -0600

It was dark when I drove up the long driveway to the farmhouse the other night. I couldn't pull into my parking spot because there are low hanging electric lines crossing the driveway. A friend came out yesterday to hold the lines up so I could drive under. I mentioned that I needed to winterize the camper but hadn't done it by myself before. I don't know why, but there are certain things that really intimidate me. Programming a VCR. Hooking up a sound system. Winterizing a camper. They all seem terribly complicated which is ridiculous. I have done jobs a lot tougher than that. My friend has had campers for years and assured me I could do it. Step by step, I walked through it...easy peasy. I felt proud of the accomplishment.

It wasn't really all that long ago when I didn't know thing one about a camper. Now, I can hook up and unhook, back into the tightest of spots, troubleshoot many issues, change the batteries and gas tanks, check and fill the tires, and now...winterize. I ran electric to her so I can nap and write in my little sanctuary. The only thing left is to empty and clean the pantry. I still might take off and head south sometime this winter for a break...who knows? I do like to go someplace warm and sunny in February!

I was around a lot of people on this trip. Coming home accentuated my "aloneness". I usually adjust quickly but last night just felt lonesome so I rolled with it. I let my mind wander wherever it took me, eventually settling on Mr. Virgo. The only way I can describe my feelings for him now is "the evolution of love". A love interrupted. A forever love. But, my love for him no longer consumes every waking moment of my life. For the longest time, I clung to every shred of feeling I had for him for fear that if I let go of even one thread, the whole "fabric" of his memory would unravel...that I would lose him completely. I had to ease up my grip...an inch at a time. I knew if I held onto him too tight, there would never be room in my life for anything...or anyone...else. It's like flying a kite. If the string is too short, the kite just spins around and around smacking you in the face. You can't see past it. But if you let out the string slowly and stay just right with the wind, you can actually tie off the string and the kite will pretty much fly itself. That's where I am. I've let out the kite string enough that I get a great view and can watch it soar on the wind. It's beautiful...and it makes me smile. Even when I feel my "aloneness". Because, really...I am never alone. Mr. Virgo's memory is with me. Those who love me are with me. But most of all...God is with me.

It will be another busy week...taking the truck in for maintenance today and an interview for a podcast on Wednesday. Thursday night I'm meeting friends to go see Rocky Horror Picture Show. I've always wanted to go see it in the theater where the audience interacts with the characters on the screen. That'll be a hoot! So, there won't be much time to be lonely this week. My choice is always to roll up my sleeves, get into the fun, and fly my kite!

❤️

“Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. Relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish.”‭‭
Psalm‬ ‭25:16-17‬ ‭NIV‬

Drumroll, Please!

Wed, 19 Oct 2016 01:30:08 -0600

Marshmallow Ranch hit a milestone yesterday...5,000 followers!!!!

Oh. Em. Geeeee!

I was out to lunch with a friend when the ticker turned over and that magic number showed up. I squealed with delight, high-fived my lunch partner, and clapped my hands. What started three and a half years ago as a place where I could vent and share my innermost feelings of grief has grown into a place where 5,000 souls gather to share and care our way down this rocky road called life. We laugh. We cry. We praise. We lift each other up when the burden is heavy. We celebrate our accomplishments, no matter how small.

I am so proud of the vast amount of content this page has generated. Countless hours and a ton of blood, sweat, and tears have been poured into every word. I am so grateful for a loving God who has seen fit to give me this task. He dictates the words...I just type 'em. I'm grateful for every one of you beautiful souls for listening to me rattle on. I'm grateful for your input, your encouragement and the occasional kick in the pants when I need it.

Thank you! Thank you for making my heart sing when I thought it would be forever broken! I love you all!!!

❤️

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world."”‭‭
John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Just Passing Through

Mon, 17 Oct 2016 01:30:51 -0600

I can't remember ever having a day quite like yesterday. I always pray during the opening worship service and ask God to speak to me personally through our pastor's message. He didn't fail me...He never does. And it was powerful. After church, I went for a drive to look at the beautiful fall colors. I pulled into the cemetery where my grandparents, great-grandparents, and other family members on my father's side are buried. After paying my respects, I had a picnic in the park by the river then moved on to drive up by my Aunt Marge's farm. I have wonderful memories of that place and it was sad to see it so run down. The building in this picture is the Wilding Graded School just down the road.

I was returning home, driving out a country road when I noticed some people talking in a yard. Suddenly they rushed to the road and started pointing ahead of me. I looked up and there was a cloud of dust flying. A car and truck had collided at high speed in the intersection not farther than a football field ahead of me. I was one of the first to stop to help. Just as I got to the truck that was overturned, two nurses rushed up with their medical bags and climbed in the cab as best they could. The occupants were severely injured. I believe the driver was killed. The nurse kept coming back out for air then diving in again. I could do nothing but pray. I asked God to give her the skills she needed, the words of comfort to say, and the strength to carry out her tasks. That's when I heard her say, "Do you know Jesus?" The man said he did. I knew my part was done and I needed to get my truck out of the way. I was still shaking an hour later and the image stuck with me well into the night.

After my Sunday evening service, I checked Facebook and saw a post from my second cousin. Her mom had taken a turn for the worse so I headed to the care facility to sit with family for a while. I got home after 1:00.
I'm in a season of my life where people are slipping away from me. Mr. Virgo. My parents. Friends. Acquaintances. They're dying. They're moving on. I keep recalibrating my compass, yet true north eludes me. Big changes are coming into my life. Doors close. Windows open. On and on. I don't know why everything seems so poignant right now, but it's like something orchestrated. I'll trust the process and see where this leads me. After all, we're just passing through here.

❤️

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long.”‭‭Psalms‬ ‭25:4-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Doctor! Doctor! I Can See!

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 01:30:15 -0600

Farm life has me up and doing things at the ungodly hour of "0 Dark Thirty". Things like feeding the farm cats. When I first got here, I was awakened at 8:00 by what I was certain was someone trying to break in the house...first the back door, then the front. I snuck into the living room and, with great trepidation, pulled back the curtain on the front door only to find a very hungry cat glaring at me at eye height...her claws gripping the screen. I think they are plotting to kill me by loving me to death. Another delightful little task on the farm is taking the trash out at 5:30am on Wednesdays to keep the raccoons and possums out of it. You have not lived till you hear the sweet barn cat out on the porch eating the food you left a few minutes before only to go out and come face-to-face with a possum the size of a Buick. That gives aerobics a new meaning.

As I stood in the kitchen yesterday, contemplating how a self-proclaimed road princess like me found herself living in an old drafty house in a shady little holler with possums and coons and fleas, I waited patiently for my coffee to brew. As I leaned against the sink, I looked to my right and noticed the door frame had a little piece sawed away. My eyes ran up the frame and found a matching place about six inches from the top of the door and I smiled with a memory.

When I was a very little girl, this house did not have indoor plumbing. As a matter of fact, it didn't even sit where it is now. It used to be farther back from the road when my uncle and great-grandfather built a basement, put in plumbing, and rolled the house down on pipes to the new foundation. Before the move, and the new kitchen sink, the door hinges were on the other side opening from right to left. Consequently, the screen opened in the same direction. I was only six or seven years old when it switched, but fifty years later I was still reaching for the handle of the screen door on the right instead of the left.

Life after loss is a lot like that. Things have been moved on us. I go to pick up the phone every Sunday night to call mom and check in. I see something funny and think of texting Mr. Virgo to tell him. I turn over in bed and reach out to find...emptiness...more often than I care to admit. Someone moved our stuff. Someone changed our lives. It doesn't break my heart like it used to. Now it's more like, "Oh, yeah...right. He's gone." and I move on. Most of the time, anyway.

Seeing those marks where the old hinges were reminded me that I can learn how to open doors with the other hand. I can change and still go in and out. I'm not trapped anymore.

❤️

“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you."”‭‭
Deuteronomy‬ ‭31:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Note to my Younger Self

Tue, 11 Oct 2016 01:30:24 -0600

Hello, sweetheart!

Look at you...so young, so full of promise in your first grown up formal dress. Beside you is your first boyfriend, who becomes your first husband, the father of your first child, and...ultimately...your first divorce. It isn't the first time you're going to feel like a failure. And, sad to say, it isn't your last. You have a problem that stems back long before this day. It isn't your fault...your daddy drinks too much and isn't a very good model of the man to look for. Oh, that fellow beside you there is a good man and years from now you're going to learn to be friends. But, he just isn't your guy for the long haul. Neither is the next one, as it turns out. Your "picker" is kinda broken and it all started with those shiny, patent leather Mary Janes...remember?

Mom took you to buy shoes. You were about nine or ten. You desperately wanted those black Mary Janes. Everyone was getting them. But, they only had one pair left and they were a little too small. When Mom said we'd keep looking you threw a fit and insisted they fit fine. You were so afraid if you didn't take what was there, you'd never get what you so desperately wanted. Unfortunately, you repeat this over and over till you finally learn your lesson.

Leave the shoes, sweetheart. You honestly don't need anything in your life that isn't a perfect fit...be it shoes, jobs, men. Trust me, the right thing/person comes at the right time...exactly when you need it. Really.
Don't put too much stock in what others think of you, either. You can trust your gut. You can do anything you want. Yeah, I know...you don't get to be a doctor like you really want. But, you do ok for yourself with what you knew at the time.

Tell Mom or a teacher or a minister...somebody. Tell them about what happened at the hands of your abusers. You weren't bad. You didn't do anything wrong. It's ok...you don't have to wait till you're 35 to tell. By that time, there's going to be so much damage done, it's going to take a lot of work with a therapist to help you love yourself.

Now, here's the most important thing. Don't run away from God, honey. You feel Him knocking on the door of your heart. Open up and let Him in. Your life is completely healed when that happens. You don't have to wait till you're 51. Because, close on the heels of finding a relationship with God, you're going to find a wonderful man who will be your champion. He will carry your heart on a velvet pillow. You're going to lose him too soon, but your life is going to be so rich because of him.

Then again...when you're 63, you're going to know in your heart that you are the wonderful woman you've become because of the path you take. That 63-year-old self is pretty darned happy with her life.

Just do your best, dear heart. Know you are loved and never alone.
But...really, don't buy those shoes. Keep looking.

❤️

“Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you.”‭‭
1 Timothy‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Crossing Over

Sun, 09 Oct 2016 01:30:00 -0600

It's been a long time since I've had a really bad spell with my grief. By "long time" I mean it's been several weeks since I've cried or spent a sleepless night. I haven't had a panic attack in several months. Things seem easier right now. Much of that can probably be attributed to being very busy and socially engaged. I'm heading into a stretch now where I'll have a lot more down time on my hands and while I'll be busy writing, I'll still have time to get in my head.

My wise friend Jamie tells me I can't "busy" my way through grief. That just puts things on the back burner. And we all know what happens when you put something on the back burner and forget it. It can boil over and ruin everything. Best to mind the pot and give it a good stir once in a while to keep things from scorching and sticking to the pan.

It's a balance, this mindful tending. You CAN over stir and you can turn up the heat too high, both leading to disastrous results. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. I feel like I've crossed into new territory here. A new season. I fought getting here because the trade off is feeling Mr. Virgo recede from my grasp...from my memory. The things we did together get pushed further and further in the past. God allows us to heal our hearts and minds by changing our focus. The past gets a bit fuzzy. It takes a great deal of energy to hang on to every image in detail. For me, the softer focus lets my heart ease a bit. It lets me look for the beauty in this new life without guilt. I've crossed over a bridge. It's not the last one. There will be more. But each one crossed makes me stronger, more confident, more hopeful and happier. And a little relieved. It's ok to feel this. It's called growth.

❤️

“Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance,”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭1:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Work It!

Wed, 05 Oct 2016 01:30:56 -0600

I was climbing these 9 times a few times a week before I left for Colorado in June. Then I got altitude sickness, and since I'm already prone to heat exhaustion, I shied away from exercising much this summer. Fortunately, I had enough muscle mass built up that I didn't gain weight in this three months. Now that it's cooler, I'm hitting the steps again. I did them twice last week. Yesterday I climbed them five times. I'm certainly not in as bad shape as I was when I first started, but...wow! I was working it that fifth time up! It feels SO good though and the results are well worth the effort.

Remember...I don't exercise. I go outside and play! That, and adjusting my attitudes about food are the keys to my success. Also, before I EVER came close to being thin, I told myself these things every day...while looking in the mirror, while bathing, while dressing, while driving...on rising up and laying down.

1) My body is a temple.
2) I am made in God's image.
3) I am beautiful.
4) I am worthy.
5) I am fit.
6) I am healthy.
7) I am happy.
8) I am perfect because God made me.
9) I feel great!
10) I am LOVED!!!

When the lies come...oh, and they WILL come...counter them with something from your "feel good list". And move, baby! Get a little swish in your walk. Hold your head up. Stick your chin out. Look where you're going...forward! Onward! Upward! You've got this!

❤️

“Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”‭‭
1 Corinthians‬ ‭6:19-20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Over the Dam

Sat, 01 Oct 2016 01:30:31 -0600

How many times do we have to rehash yesterday's news before we can put it to bed? I remember after my second marriage ended, I was in Kissimmee, FL visiting a friend. It had been a full year since the grand finale, yet my second marriage still lay smoldering at my feet for all to see.

My friend had company over one night while I was there. We went out to dinner and, as was my modus operandi, I rehashed the entire ordeal in morbid detail to this complete stranger. She sat and listened carefully, nodding every now and again...which only served to encourage my expansiveness on the subject of "how I was done wrong". Finally my friend, who had become decidedly uncomfortable, interrupted and said, "You know, Ginny...maybe it's time to just leave that alone and move on." My immediate response was to bristle. How dare she downplay this horrendous tragedy! She obviously "doesn't get it" (even though she was a former psych nurse and "got it" all too well).

"No, no." her friend said. "Let her finish. She needs to tell this story over and over until she's too embarrassed to do so."

That stopped me in my tracks. I think my jaw literally dropped as I mulled over her words. Nope... just like that, I was done. That story was yesterday's news. It didn't make me an interesting person. It made me sound like a pathetic victim. Water over the dam. After all, nothing I said or did was going to change the marital relationship. The only thing I was doing was dragging a sack of garbage around behind me and it was beginning to stink.

That was a life lesson that has served me well on many occasions, even in my grief journey. Mind you, the story of your loss will never embarrass you, nor should it. And, you need to tell it as many times as you need in order to process it. There did come a time when I stopped introducing myself to new people with, "My name is Ginny. I'm a widow." Not that it isn't relevant. It most certainly is. But, it's something that happened to me. It doesn't totally define who I am anymore. I am so much more than that now. And that is a HUGE step forward.

Every grief is different. There is no timeline...no right or wrong way to do it. It is yours, and yours alone. For me, there just came a point where I didn't need to tell the story over and over. I got tired of being categorized as "sad" and "lonely" when that wasn't what I was feeling anymore. Wherever you are in your journey, just keep putting one foot in front of the other. As they say...sometimes the most difficult paths lead to the most beautiful destinations...even though the journey itself is anything but beautiful.

❤️

“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

The Comfort Zone

Thu, 22 Sep 2016 01:30:15 -0600

I don't know what happened to the post I wrote for yesterday. I suppose it got lost somewhere in the airwaves along with the video of my talk Sunday night. Facebook isn't always cooperative, is it?

While trying myriad ways to post that video, I had a lot of time to reflect on just how far I've come in the last several years. There was a time when the thoughts of speaking in front of a group of people would have sent me into a tizzy. Stage fright kept me from doing many things I would have liked to do in my life. Community theater, musical performance, and even stand-up comedy are all dreams I've had at one point or another...but fear kept me from pursuing any of them.

One morning, probably twenty years ago, I was visiting with friends over breakfast at one of my favorite restaurants in Glenwood Springs. Cris Aronson was there. She was the high school speech and drama teacher at the time. Someone was talking about how great life was going for them and, in my best Ethel Merman impression, I started belting out "Everything's coming up roses..." Cris whipped around and looked at me and said, "You can sing!" I assured her, I could not...even after singing right in front of her. A few weeks later, she called me and said she was directing Fiddler on the Roof for the community theater and she wanted me to come try out. As a matter of fact, she said she chose that musical with me in mind. Oh, no. No...sorry. No way! The thoughts made me want to throw up.

It makes me sad to look back at that woman who was so afraid. How many opportunities did she miss? How many times did she listen to the opinions of others and believe she wasn't good enough? Countless, I'm afraid. It took a potentially lethal overdose and the death of my handsome Mr. Virgo to bring me out. To strip away the fears that have held me back for so long. And now, look at that beautiful, confident woman in this picture. I'm not saying that to brag...I'm just marveling at the difference. When people tell me I glow, I know where my light comes from. God shines through us when we let Him. It's how we bring light into the world. And oh...this world needs more light! So, I'll keep shining my light at every opportunity. And I'll post pictures. Not in a boastful way...but with love and encouragement. I know I'm not the only one who suffers from stage fright. I'm not the only one who has suffered low self-esteem and anxiety and depression. God knows, if I can do this...anyone can. It just takes standing up. And lots of prayer.

❤️

“Joshua said to them, “Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Be strong and courageous. This is what the Lord will do to all the enemies you are going to fight.””
‭‭Joshua‬ ‭10:25‬ ‭NIV‬‬

After the Rain

Wed, 17 Aug 2016 01:30:47 -0600

I want to tell you how God works in my life. I've mentioned in some of my posts that I was sexually abused as a child. The first time was the summer between 2nd and 3rd grade at the hands of an older neighbor boy. I estimate he was in high school, but I don't know that for certain. I do know that I was playing under the big tree with my little friend. She is about four and a half years younger than me so I assume she was four or five years old when this incident happened.

The boy lured us into a garage under the pretense of looking at toys. When he molested me, I was confused and frightened and stood very still...hoping he would go away. But when he went after my friend, my maternal instinct kicked in and I grabbed her and ran before he could touch her. I haven't seen her since she was a senior in high school but I've thought of her often. I've always wondered if she had any memory of that day. I've wondered if she was frightened or if...God forbid...he had cornered her another time when I wasn't with her to protect her.

I pray all the time, but my prayers aren't always out loud. Most often, my prayers are my thoughts as I communicate with God during the day. For some reason, this incident has been on my mind a lot this summer...probably because my youngest grandchild reminds me so much of myself at her age and she isn't much older than I was that fateful summer day. So, I've silently asked God many times in the last few months to let my path cross that of my friend.

Saturday night I was at my high school reunion and a couple was seated at my table. The man had graduated with me but I didn't know him in high school and had never met him. Yet, here he was...at my table. There are no accidents. His wife was seated opposite me and I asked her if she went to our high school. She said yes, but she didn't graduate till '75. A chill went up my spine. I asked her if she knew my friend. With a look of surprise, she said "OMGosh! I just saw her this evening!" No doubt. I asked if she could get a message to her that I needed to speak to her. She sent a text and I waited.

Monday night, the phone rang out at the farm and...it was my long lost childhood friend. I did not want to come right out of the chute and ask her about that day in the garage so we spent the better part of two hours catching up and asking about each other's families and what we had been doing the last forty years. It was so good to hear her voice. As the conversation began to wind down and we had made promises to get together soon for lunch, I felt the time was right to ask her. I was so relieved to hear she had no memory of that day and there had never been an incident afterwards. As we continued to work through who lived in the neighborhood and who that boy could have been she said, "You know...there was this one house near the alley that I was absolutely forbidden from ever going near."

When my friend's mother had taken her into the house that day, she sent me on my way with a warning to never to speak of that again to anyone...so I didn't tell my own mother till I was 35. It took me a while to realize this woman was merely a product of the times. This happened in the very early '60s...the Camelot years. You never spoke of child abuse back then as it was shameful. She wasn't being mean and I don't place any blame on her. But, just knowing she kept my friend away from that house on the alley let me know she heard me. And...even more importantly...she believed me. I wasn't the "bad girl" I thought I was at the time. I never had been.

And, that is the gift God gave me on a Monday night on a quiet farm in West Virginia...after the rain.

❤️

“For the word of the Lord is right and true; he is faithful in all he does. The Lord loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love.”
Psalm 33:4-5 NIV

Music in a Small Town

Thu, 28 Jul 2016 01:30:52 -0600

I moved to Glenwood Springs in 1986. At that time, there were two stop lights and if it took five minutes to get across town, it was a high traffic day. I-70 was being constructed through Glenwood Canyon...the last section of a highway that bisects North America from east to west. It is the most expensive stretch of interstate in the country with tunnels and flying bridges that have westbound traffic on top of the eastbound lanes. There are frequent rockfalls in the canyon, some of which close it down completely for days. John Denver protested the building of the interstate through the canyon, not only for aesthetic purposes, but also for the environmental impact. He postulated that the canyon was too narrow to accommodate a four lane highway and said he could prove it by throwing a silver dollar from one bank to the other. Legend has it, it took him several tries but he finally achieved the feat. To no avail, however. Nothing impedes the progress of an interstate.

I moved here with Hubby #2 and my oldest daughter when he finished residency and she was heading into seventh grade. It was a sleepy little town...the kind of town where you just sign your receipt at the grocery store if you forget your checkbook with a promise to come back and pay the next time you're in town. I once brought a Suburban home for the weekend for approval simply because they knew where we lived.

It was an idyllic life. We lived in a log house on two acres. I could get from my kitchen to the top of the ski lift in less than thirty minutes. I did my housewife duties in the morning, skied all afternoon and got back in time to pull fresh cookies out of the oven when my daughter got off the bus from school. We literally knew everyone in town. Then the interstate was completed and there was a huge influx of new people moving in and our sleepy little town woke up.

We held a pretty high profile in the community with my husband being a doctor and me being active on committees and the school. Four years after moving here, baby number two came and my life took off in an entirely new direction. With a teenager and a new baby, my finger was in a lot of pies.

Ten years went by with a lot of struggles with depression and health concerns. Then, the unthinkable happened and this couple that everyone thought was perfect...wasn't. And we went our separate ways. I had a strange perception of my position in the community after that. My station had changed and as will happen in any breakup, people chose sides. It's a normal but unfortunate process. I held my own though. I owned a business in town for a few years and co-parented my youngest. Her sister married and moved away. And eventually, I met and married Mr. Virgo.

Now I come back whenever I can...to visit my brother, to visit my second parents, my brother/friend and all these wonderful faces I still recognize. Wednesday night in the summer features live music in the park and it is THE place to see and be seen. Many of these beautiful people I go years without seeing and it is so great to catch up. So, I sat last night as the sun went down on another perfect Rocky Mountain summer day and I soaked it all in. Because, in five days, I'll be driving east and my summer here will be complete. Bittersweet but with so much love.

❤️

“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands.”
Deuteronomy 8:2 NIV

Motivation Monday

Mon, 18 Jul 2016 01:30:36 -0600

I met a great gal this spring from my hometown. We have a mutual friend who connected her to Marshmallow Ranch because she was just at the one year Angelversary of her husband's death. We met for coffee one day and ended up talking for four hours at Panera! She recently posted this...her "Dear Self" note drawn on her hand. I absolutely love this. It really speaks to me. It's a work of art. I have had a lot of "Dear Self" conversations since Mr. Virgo died.

Grief takes a life that was a beautiful work of art and slashes the canvas. It smears the paints till they're a muddy brown. No color. No definition. It's so hard to look at that mess with any hope. Yet...look. Something as simple as colored markers on the palm of her hand has shown my friend that there can be beauty again. There can be colors. Sometimes we need a reminder.
There will come a day when you will feel like making the choice to see the beauty in life again. It's a clean canvas. A fresh set of paints. Soft brushes. And new eyes.

"Dear Self...Today you will shine!"

❤️

“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. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
Jeremiah 29:11-13 NIV

The Farmer

Tue, 07 Jun 2016 01:30:46 -0600

I have a friend who has a farm. He and his wife live on land that has been in the family for decades. They use tractors but also use draft horses for a lot of the heavy work. This is such a throwback. In a time of instant gratification, I admire my friend's infinite patience with these gentle giants.
Plowing a field is not as easy a task as you might think. If a field has never been plowed before, the sod as well as the underlying root system has to be broken into and cut up. After it dries a bit, it is disked then harrowed. This cuts the clods of dirt and roots up into finer and finer pieces. A seed would get lost and fail to grow properly if planted before the ground is prepared correctly.

Walking this grief path is much like cultivating a new field. Death breaks this new ground wide open where nothing can grow. Slowly but surely, time and effort breaks down the soil till even the smallest seed can germinate and become a strong plant with deep roots. To give this new life a chance, you need to tend to the field. You need to water it and fertilize it. You need to keep the weeds out. It takes work to get from one season to the next.

Be a good farmer.

❤️

“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

Tipping the Scale

Wed, 01 Jun 2016 01:30:26 -0600

Sometimes you just can't outrun grief. No matter how you try to shine the light on it, it isn't going to be pretty. We can't wrap it up in a tidy little box with a pretty red bow on top. We can tap dance till the cows come home...it's not going to change the fact that you still get visited by the gift that just won't stop freaking giving.

It can be a sunset. The way the light hits the water. A half-empty jar of jellybeans. A song on the radio. A hug from a dear friend. You can be cruising along just fine and suddenly feel as though you've run into a brick wall. I don't know why it works like that. I don't understand grief anymore than you do. I'm no scientific expert. I don't think the scientific experts know anymore about grief than you and I do...unless they personally have walked this path. I've learned what I know from personal experience, just as most of you have. Sometimes I come across something I read that makes sense to me, but mostly I'm just winging this. I'm fortunate enough to receive gifts of insight and I try to share them with you.

One thing I do know...after some time has passed, the waves are farther apart. They're usually much smaller but every once in a while a big one comes crashing down and the only thing you can do is lean into it and ride it out. I made a conscious decision when the third angelversary came that I wasn't going to talk about grief all the time. I can't. I don't think it's healthy for me to immerse myself all the time. But, I also think it's extremely healthy to open that box every once in a while and acknowledge that there's still pain in my heart and that's ok. That's beyond ok.

When my grief reared its ugly head a couple days ago, I took it out and held onto it for a couple days. I let myself feel everything my heart was trying to tell me. I encouraged it to break my heart open again so I could do a little housekeeping in there. And once I get through that, I'm fine. As I wrote this last night, the wave was pretty much spent and I was coasting back in to shore. I'm sure when I wake up this morning, I'll be fine. It's the nature of grief...the waxing and waning of emotion as we try to make sense of something so totally crazy. I'll continue to be fine till the next wave hits because now...I'm ok.

❤️

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:6-7 NIV

Evolution

Wed, 04 May 2016 01:30:06 -0600

I don't think it's a surprise to anyone that I'm a princess. Or...at least, I WAS a princess. Mr. Virgo carried me around on a velvet pillow. And that's what I needed at the time. I needed to feel special. I needed to heal from a lot of things, so God brought Mr. Virgo. And my heart healed. Then it broke again when he died. When a broken bone heals, it is never the same as it was before. Neither is a broken heart. As I walk this grief journey, my limp is apparent. I'm changed, especially over this past winter. It's been subtle...but obvious to me. And it all stems around my fur coat. You remember my fur coat?

Mr. Virgo gave me a full length blue fox fur coat for our first married Christmas. It is stunning! It gets a lot of attention when I walk into a room. It certainly did when I walked into my granddaughter's school to see her Christmas pageant when I was in Colorado over the holidays. She attends a very poor, inner city school where probably 95% of the student get free lunch. And here I waltzed in like Her Royal Highness. I was mortified. I immediately took it off, wrapped it with the fur on the inside and sat on it.

That image has stuck with me ever since. I've danced around that coat ever since I got back. I am not sure I've worn it much, if at all since I returned in January. I just look at it, hanging in the spare room. What does it mean, this coat...this symbol of an affluence I no longer enjoy...or desire. I don't relate to that person anymore. But, what do I do? It was a gift from Mr. Virgo. I can still see the light in his eyes when I opened it and sat on the floor, crying like a little girl. Not so much because of the coat, but because he presented it to me with such love. He wanted me to have pretty things. I wanted to deny I was falling out of love with the coat...to the point I defended my choice to keep dragging it around. Then my friend planted a seed that grew and it helped me let go.

Of course, there's the fact that I live in roughly 200 square feet with very little storage space. Storing it is a problem. Furs shouldn't be stored in high heat and a trailer or the back of my truck are extremely hot in the summer. It's already gotten fragile with rips under the arms and places where the lining is coming loose. It's impractical and doesn't give me joy like it once did.

I've given it some thought and I think I am going to have the bottom, from the armpits down, made into a throw for my bed or the sofa. I can have the sleeves made into neck roll pillows. They will look lovely in the new color scheme I am planning for the trailer. And I will still have my sweet memories of a beautiful Christmas morning.

It's time to pay it forward. It's time to be authentic. My crown is worn because Christ wore one of thorns for me. I am extraordinary only through Him...not because of a fur coat. It's time to spread the LOVE. I took a big bag and a box full to the Mission yesterday. There is more to go.

❤️

“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.”
2 Corinthians 11:30 NIV

Lessons

Mon, 02 May 2016 01:30:49 -0600

I've been working with a trainer the last two months. We exercise together four or five times a week. Anyone who exercises knows it's a whole lot easier when you're with someone. There's not only the accountability factor, but the motivation and encouraging comments that come with having an exercise partner is priceless.

It's important when you exercise to stay in breath so you are aerobic...your muscles getting the oxygen they need. One way of assuring that is to carry on a conversation. If you can't talk more than a few words with all the huffing and puffing, you should really slow down the pace a little. Imagine my delight when I can exercise AND carry on a conversation. It helped make the activity much more pleasant.

And now my trainer, who has become my good friend, is moving on to his next adventure. I am so happy for him, but selfishly I will miss his encouraging words and fun conversation. He has taught me many things. I'm not invisible. Everything we do in life should come from a place of love...for others, for ourselves, for the planet, and for God. Our bodies are machines that need the proper fuel in order to function properly. And, I'm probably not drinking enough water.

Now comes the hard part. Now I have to stay motivated to get out there and keep exercising at the same level of intensity. I can do this but it will be an adjustment. I hate goodbyes so I'll just say "See ya later, my friend. Thanks for believing I could make the changes I needed to get healthy."

❤️

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”
Numbers 6:24-26 NIV

Losing Control

Sat, 30 Apr 2016 01:30:00 -0600

I was preparing to meet friends for dinner last night, when I heard a loud noise coming from the river. I glanced out the bedroom window in time to see a tugboat and barges swing crossways across the river. I have lived on the river for nearly a year, and have never seen this before. It appeared one of the chains that connected the barge to the tugboat had broken. The pilot of the tug expertly swung the boat around which allowed a worker to reconnect it.

Life is like that tugboat sometimes, isn't it? We can be chugging along happy as a clam when suddenly something completely out of our control occurs. Perhaps it's the loss of a job. Or an unexpected expense. Or, maybe your best friend moves away. I don't experience loss the same as I did before I became a widow. Little things are bigger...they take a little more time to sort through. That's ok. It means you can feel again. Feeling is good, even when it doesn't feel so good. It means you've opened your heart again. And that is where you live.

❤️

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:19 NIV

Crone

Thu, 28 Apr 2016 01:30:46 -0600

The word sounds bad. But it's meaning implies a wise woman. I've become a crone...a title I wear with as much dignity and grace as I can muster. We don't get to this age without a few battle scars. And the things we've gone through are the very things we use when we reach down to help the next person up.

There was a time when my insecurities drove people away from me, which further fueled the insecurities. It wasn't until I pledged a moratorium on new relationships that I got a handle on it. I needed to learn that it is most often counter productive to "chase" people down in an attempt to spend time with them. I've learned to be the flower. All you have to do is blossom. The bees will come to you. Pretty simple, really.

❤️

“So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?””
Hebrews 13:6 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

Looking for Mr. Virgo

Tue, 19 Apr 2016 01:30:43 -0600

I've tried my hand at dating. Sometimes we get the opportunity to see someone, some time after a failed attempt at coupling and sit in awe at the personal growth we've made due to the experience. And scratch our head and wonder, "What was I thinking?" Sometimes perfectly nice people come into our lives and God shuts the door on them for a reason. The lesson I've learned is "Don't try to pick the lock."

After my last attempt a year ago, I've changed course. I backed off completely. I won't rule out that there just might be someone out there for me, but God is going to have to throw him down in my lap if He wants me to be in a romantic relationship.

Relationship. That's such a funny word, really. After all, you are in a relationship with everyone you interact with on a regular basis. I have many relationships. I have several very close, personal relationships. With both men and women. My gentlemen friends would do anything for me. They are wonderful dinner companions. They bring the muscle when I need it. They'll take me out to dinner...anywhere, any time. They'll give me a hug if I want one. And then he or I go home and there's no complications. It's just easier that way. I have far too many obligations at the moment to take on another project.

A year ago, if I had a date, I would have put on my most charming face and been eager to know and be known...whether he was my type or not. I was a chameleon...and quite needy. I'm much more centered now. There is no comparing one man to another. I love my gentleman friends dearly. And I'm not really looking for Mr. Virgo anymore. Now, I just look at their hearts...and love them for who they are and what they bring to my life. But as far as dating is concerned? Nah...I'll tend to my knitting, as my Grandma used to say.

❤️

“So I say to those who aren’t married and to widows—it’s better to stay unmarried, just as I am. But if they can’t control themselves, they should go ahead and marry. It’s better to marry than to burn with lust.”
1 Corinthians 7:8-9 NLT

Memories

Wed, 13 Apr 2016 01:30:50 -0600

I sat down this morning to do my taxes. When I opened my laptop, I saw the calendar reminder from last week. April 7th would have been Mr. Virgo's and my 9th wedding anniversary. It never entered my mind. I had no dread leading up to it. And I only had momentary regret that I forgot.

It was a busy week with traveling and the excitement of getting a literary management contract. Thursday morning I had a breakfast meeting with Hubby #1 and his sweet wife. I don't often get the chance to sit down with her and chat about what's going on in our lives. Then I drove from Louisville to Bristol, Tennessee. I spoke with friends and family most of the way. I made a few business calls. And the rest of the time I listened to music, singing along at the top of my lungs, marveling at the scenery crossing the mountains of Virginia and Tennessee. The redbud and dogwood were fabulous! The blue skies and puffy white clouds added to the ethereal atmosphere. If I could make a choice of a beautiful day to repeat, that would sure be one of them.

But...what does it mean that I forgot our anniversary? What does it say about me? There may be some who think it's shameful. There may be more who think it's impossible. I've given it a good deal of thought this morning and I've decided I'm going to agree with one of my dearest friends...it's a sign of healing and looking forward. It doesn't mean I don't love Mr. Virgo. It doesn't mean he's any less important in my life. It certainly doesn't mean I've forgotten him. I think he would be thrilled that I'm doing joyful things. That I'm looking forward to an amazing future.

No, forgetting an anniversary is not a bad thing. Forgetting to LIVE is.

❤️

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Philippians 1:3 NIV

Fitness Friday

Fri, 01 Apr 2016 01:30:20 -0600

Getting fit isn't just physical. Getting fit is a whole life experience. You can work every muscle in your body till you're hard as steel but if your mind is mired in chaos, you're not even half way there. If you feel right with God, but you're going to bed every night with your two favorite men...Ben & Jerry...you're missing the boat. I like to imagine the areas of my life individually as objects...say, apples. They each need a good washing. They will be so much more appealing if they're given a good polishing. And they each offer the same nourishment. One isn't more important than the other. They are apples.

My goal every day is to balance my apples...one on top of the other. One for my body, one for my mind, one for my spirit. That may not be easy. They're round, after all. It helps if I create a flat surface as a base to stand them on.
I trim the top and bottom of my apples every day.

For my body, I do something to get my heart rate up everyday. I move my muscles and stretch. I feed it with clean, healthy food. I drink tons of water. I sleep well. I care for my body with love.

For my mind, I meditate every morning. I challenge it with new words, good conversation, clean input, and continual learning. I don't watch TV. I listen to music as often as possible. I laugh at every opportunity. I give my mind goals and when I achieve them, I give it new ones. I look forward. I look upward. I care for my mind with love.

For my spirit, I pray every day. All day. I try to make my every thought a prayer in that I put it through my God-filter. Are my thoughts true? Are they loving? Are they helpful? Are they uplifting? Are my words spoken with love and light? In my dealings with people, have I looked for God in them? Is my motive to lift them up? Is my life a reflection of my spirit? I spend a great deal of my day in gratitude and praise. And when I fail, I forgive myself as I have been forgiven. I care for my spirit with love.

Once I have everything balanced, my life is like a lightning rod. The energy of the Universe travels right down from top to bottom, grounding me to my Earth Mother....filling her and radiating God's Love through every molecule.
You cannot ignore one spoke in the wheel without going off the rails. Strive to achieve balance every day. Be grateful at night for another day in which to make the attempt. And rise to meet the new day with anticipation. It won't be long till you transform your life with joy.

❤️

“My meditation of him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the Lord.”
Psalms 104:34 KJV

Carry Me Onward

Wed, 30 Mar 2016 01:30:07 -0600

My legs will be 63 in 10 weeks. They've carried me a long way, these gams of mine. A month ago I got winded climbing one flight of stairs. That was alarming. I have a lifestyle that demands a certain level of fitness if I want to keep it up. Yesterday, I walked uphill and pulled my personal best time in 3K. Then I went and walked the Quincy steps again. It was still a struggle, but every time I do something physical, it's a little easier than the last time.

Mr. Virgo wasn't into fitness. He was into survival. He walked 12-16 hours a day, 5 days a week. Sometimes 6 or 7 days a week. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was work out. And I was perfectly happy to sit at home, eat like a truck driver and keep gaining weight. Oh, seriously...I wasn't huge. But I was unhealthy. I have another week before I take my "after" photos of the 24 Day Challenge with Advocare. I'm sure looking forward to it because I can feel the difference...not only in the way my clothes fit but also in my mood and my energy level.

We owe it to ourselves to be as healthy as we can be. It makes us more fun and interesting to be around. And it makes our life more interesting to ourselves. Today, I'm working upper body and giving my legs a break. Towanda!

❤️

“She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong.”
Proverbs 31:17 ESV

Saudade

Thu, 25 Feb 2016 02:30:28 -0600

I follow an author on Twitter that had a list of descriptive words for feelings. I came across saudade. Three syllables. Soh-DAH-deh. It's from Portuguese Folklore meaning an intensely strong yearning for someone who is no longer with you. Saudade. I've never found a more accurate word to describe what goes on in my heart some days. It even sounds appropriate.

Most days I'm fine. The beast remains tamed...mollified with promises that we'll revisit this whole thing like Adelle in "Hello"....later, later. Compartmentalized. Then, along comes something...anything, nothing, doesn't matter...along comes this thing and the Gatekeeper starts rummaging through his key ring to open the lock on my heart. I hear him coming, his footsteps echoing down the long corridors of my mind and I moan somewhere deep within. Because I know what's going to happen when he gets where he's going. Saudade.

The Gatekeeper came yesterday. I had just finished writing a post for the Sisters on the Fly Blog. I set my laptop aside, leaned back in the chair, closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of a stiff rain mixed with the soothing meditation music I listen to when I write. The phone interrupted my reverie a few minutes later. It was my daughter. My baby. There was a breathless excitement in her voice. She is engaged!

Saudade. The Gatekeeper came creeping in on Doc Martins...crushing grit between his soles and the doorstep to my heart. Mr. Virgo would have loved this. He would have held my hand while I heard the news. He would have taken the phone and said, "Congratulations, baby doll!" He would have started planning the wedding in his head, because that's what he did for a living. It's hard when the happy family events occur and he's not here with me.

I let the Gatekeeper have his way with me. And it wasn't so bad. I've certainly felt worse at his hand. After talking with them, telling them how much I love them, listening to the details of just how the proposal went down, hearing the love in their voices....we rang off and I sat there, alone. Saudade. Saudade. Thank you, Lord. Saudade.

❤️

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court.”
Psalm 127:3-5 NIV

The Pile Of Rocks

Wed, 24 Feb 2016 02:30:41 -0600

***I originally posted this story nearly two years ago. It never hurts to revisit topics and the number of Ranchers has increased tremendously since then. Here is the reprisal of the rock story.***

My younger daughter wears her heart on her sleeve, just as I did when I was growing up. She's the fixer...the tender-hearted one who wants everyone to be happy. It took me many, many years to finally gain the insight I needed to help her. She thinks in analogies much as I do, so this is how I taught her to take care of herself in her relationships and daily interactions.

God gives us all a pile of rocks. There are big rocks that represent the big things in life like family, jobs, houses, health. There are medium sized rocks for the average things we have to deal with like friends and laundry and soccer practice. Then there are small rocks for the mundane trivia of life like grumpy store clerks or the guy that cuts you off on the freeway. God gives us extra rocks sometimes for those unexpected crises like a death in the family or the unexpected loss of a job. But, HE never gives us more than we can carry. The problem comes when WE pick up rocks that are not ours.

Picture, if you will...we are sitting in a great big circle with everyone we come into contact with on a typical day. We're all sitting here with our pile of rocks in front of us. Just the right number of rocks. Just the right amount that we are capable of carrying because we need to take them home with us at the end of the day. Suddenly, the woman across from you says something hurtful to you. If you internalize and take that personally, she has just thrown you one of her rocks and you dutifully stacked it on your pile. Now, seated a few folks down is your best friend. She's having some major issues in her life right now and she wants someone...anyone...to carry this burden for her. So you reach over and gladly take a few of her rocks because that's what friends do, right? You sit here all day, every day, in your circle...getting rocks thrown at you and picking up others until you can't even SEE over your pile, let alone pick it up and carry it back home!

It's one thing to get up, walk over to your friend, and help her carry a particularly heavy rock for awhile. It's quite another to try to carry everyone else's rocks in addition to your own. Let others carry their own rocks. It makes them stronger. Stop trying to own the world's problems. Honestly, you cannot live long enough to fix them all.

Once my daughter really absorbed this lesson, to this day she'll tell me some big drama that's going on in her life and when I meet her with a silent pause, she'll say "I know, I know...it's not my pile of rocks!" Remember this the next time someone throws rocks at you.

❤️

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
Proverbs 4:23 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

Are you Rich or Are you Wealthy?

Sat, 30 Jan 2016 02:30:41 -0600

I have lived a lot of lives. I grew up with just enough. A pound of hamburger fed four people. The garden out back gave us the rest. We wore hand-me-downs and were tickled to death with the cast off toys of other kids. We were clean, neat, and used our best manners. A lot of what we had was provided by the kindness of others though I was not aware of that at the time. I never felt poor.

I married young. We didn't have much. We did our best. We had a baby. The marriage didn't work. I lived in HUD housing. I got Food Stamps and WIC. I was pretty poor by all definitions. I lived in an unsafe neighborhood. I had to watch my baby like a hawk. I took what work I could find. I was grateful for the help. Yet I still never really felt poor. Slowly, I moved up the food chain.

I married a medical student. We worked hard. We created a life. A life that ever so slowly became more and more affluent. I forgot what it was like to be poor. I was haughty in my richness. I took it for granted. I thought I would always be a domestic goddess. It didn't turn out that way.

I slipped down the ladder several rungs. It was good for me. It opened my eyes to more important things. Like God. And faith. And hope. And love.

I met Mr. Virgo. He had nothing but a suitcase and some pots and pans. But he had God. And he had a spirit the size of Texas. He had a smile that was brighter than the sun. He had a hug that assured me he would lay his life down for mine. He had blue eyes that captured the stars like diamonds and fed my soul with them. He had stories that carried me to far distant lands to vistas the likes of which I had only seen in books. He had a heart that was solid gold which he gladly presented to me...every single day...on a blue velvet pillow. He had a laugh that sent tears down my cheeks till I couldn't catch my breath. He had a touch that was so gentle it knitted up all my wounded places. He gave me uncountable, unprecedented, unfathomable gifts.

And then he was gone.

But...he left a certain truth about the huge difference between the riches of money and the wealth of love.

If the time should ever come that I have spent my very last dime, you may rest assured of this..........my darling Mr. Virgo has left me very wealthy in my heart.

❤️

“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”
1 Timothy 6:10 NIV

The Leaky Bucket

Thu, 28 Jan 2016 02:30:14 -0600

When I was on my three month odyssey in little TOW-Wanda, I had nothing but time and space before me. I had freedom from employment and family obligations. I drove where I wanted, slept when I wanted, and ate what I wanted. I literally laid back in the stream of life and let it take me with it. It was an intense period of purging grief that not everyone gets to experience. And in just that short period of time, I had so many revelations....about God and the Universe, about love and loss, about life and finding the courage to move on through the rest of it without the man I loved more than anything. And, since I think in analogies, let me share an insight with you.

Life is like a leaky bucket. The longer you live, the more holes it gets in it and the faster you have to scoop "water" in to keep it full. Because...that's the purpose of life, isn't it? To have a full bucket...a complete, successful, happy life with a full to overflowing bucket. But, remember those holes? They're sneaky little devils. You don't even realize you're getting them till they're there.

What if I told you the goal in life isn't to keep filling your own bucket? What if I told you the goal of life is to let your bucket get completely empty? Scary, right? I mean...all your "stuff" is in that bucket! Your life, your love, your security, your accomplishments, your hopes, your dreams. Well, here's what I discovered in the wilderness of Colorado. When you let your bucket empty out, your life becomes still. Your mind quiets down. Your soul becomes peaceful and you are at rest. No frenetic activity trying to fill and refill your bucket in an endless attempt at fulfillment. Just...peace. And...here's what happens when you have an empty bucket with lots of holes in it. When you drop it into water, the water rushes in to fill the bucket from the outside. Remember those gems that I've told you to pick up out of the flames you've been walking through? Remember I told you if you didn't have an immediate use for, or understanding of them to just stick them in your pocket because they will come in handy down the road? Well, I'm about to tell you what they were for.

There's an infinite Source of sweet, flowing water in the most scorched wilderness. You'll see the rivers and streams...evidence there's something greater up ahead. Follow those streams till you come to the Source...a spring from which flows healing waters, straight from God. Kneel down and dip your bucket in. See how the water rushes in the holes, filling your bucket with the purest, freshest sparkling water imaginable? But, what happens if you lift the bucket and try to walk on your way? It starts leaking out all those holes and soon you have nothing left! Try again...dip in and fill the bucket. Now, reach in your pocket and take out those beautiful gems God left for you in the flames of your grief journey. While your bucket is still submerged, reach in one at a time and place the gems into the holes. See? They're a perfect fit! Pull your bucket out. No leaks!

This was the whole purpose of looking down as you walked through the fire.....these gems that God left there for you. Some were nuggets of wisdom. Some were bits of insight. Some were sources of comfort. But some.....some were designed to fit the holes in your bucket so you could fill it with God and be refreshed and restored.

When you find yourself on life's road with a leaky bucket, remember to look for the hidden gems on your path and go to the Source to be re-filled. It's really just as simple as that.

❤️

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”
1 Peter 5:6-7 NIV

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Memories

Wed, 20 Jan 2016 02:30:06 -0600

I was sitting around with some ladies after the Salon on Sunday in Cincinnati. We were chatting about my downsizing adventure and one asked if there was anything I got rid of that I later regretted. I had to really think about it and she surmised if it took me that long to think of something, the answer was probably "No". I've had a couple of days to think about it though and here's what I've come up with.

I don't miss the house I sold. It was beginning to need a good amount of work and I just didn't love it enough to invest the time or the money into it.
I do miss the home I created there with my younger daughter and then the addition of Mr. Virgo. There were some beautiful memories we made in that place. Those times I miss but they were gone once they passed from real-time. Now they are memories.

I don't miss the yard work, the snow shoveling, and the everyday maintenance of such a big house. When you are the chief cook and bottle washer, the light can kind of dim pretty quickly on a house that size.
I do miss the trees and flowers I so carefully planted when I built that house. And I miss the covered front porch that I rocked on every chance I got. I miss sitting out there with Mr. Virgo, coffee mugs in hand, laughing and planning our long life together. Oh yes...I miss that terribly.

I don't miss the mortgage hanging over my head till I'm 90.

I do miss the fact that the mortgage was lower than what most rents are now, but that's why I have a paid-for tiny home on wheels now.

I miss my bed that I shared with Mr. Virgo. It was magnificent. It was a bed befitting of royalty and since he was my Prince...and I his Princess...it suited us. But it was huge. HUGE! And heavy. Very, very heavy. I couldn't have remodeled my little tiny home to fit it.

But, really...is it the bed I miss? Or is it the "two spoons in a drawer" snuggle we did every night? Is it the arm under my head, me grasping his left thumb and holding on for dear life till he fell asleep and turned over? Only then would I allow myself to relax into sleep because I had prayed every night of my life for that. I wasn't going to miss one second of it by falling asleep before he turned over.

As I pondered these things, the new owners posted the picture of the snowy sidewalk out front and I suddenly had my answer. No. No, other than my beautiful neighbor's, and that great front porch with the trees and flowers....no. I have no regrets. I have great memories and those cost me nothing and no one can take them away.

❤️

“I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body, because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me. And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things.”
2 Peter 1:13-15 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

Are You Lonesome Tonight?

Tue, 05 Jan 2016 02:30:37 -0600

After the initial shock of losing Mr. Virgo began to fade...ever so slightly, I set out to fill the void losing him created in my life. I only had him seven and a half years. I can't imagine the emptiness of losing your partner of forty years or more. I experienced my first attempt at "dating" just five months after he died. Five months? What was I thinking???

Well....obviously I WASN'T thinking...not clearly. I had what has come to be called "The Band-Aid Relationship". That attempt to stop hurting. That vain attempt to "replace" what I had lost. Oh, he was a perfectly nice man. A gentleman. A tender soul. A man who, even after I ripped the Band-Aid off, screaming in emotional and physical pain and ripping his heart out in the process... This man would still sit and listen to me wail on the phone for hours. OMGosh! What I put him through! What I put MYSELF through in a desperate attempt to make the pain go away. It was very, very sad.

I waited a year before I tried again. Another very nice man. A gentle, sweet spirit that I ran from at the first sign of feelings. I am still friends with this one as well. I'm fortunate to have their friendship. But it caused pain for both of us. What do you do? Just stay in a shell forever and never try? I have many, many women friends who would never consider having another relationship. I didn't understand that. I didn't WANT to understand that. I had a feeling if I waited long enough, I too wouldn't want a man in my life. I was afraid of getting to that point because I wasn't at all sure I wanted to be alone with myself. I wasn't at all sure I really liked ME.

I met someone in May of last year that I thought I might actually WANT to be in a relationship with. But it didn't work out. He rekindled a relationship with someone from before me. That one stung on a different level. It made me stop and take a look at myself. It made me realize I had no earthly idea who I really was. What did I like? What did I believe in? What are my core values? Could I take care of myself? Why was I so afraid to be alone? I set out to answer these questions and get a clearer picture of who I was in the world before ever attempting to add someone else's heart in the mix.

There have been many moments when I had to force myself to sit still, shut up, and listen to my heart beat. I had to still the chatterbox inside who constantly told me to listen to the opinions of others because they knew better than me what the world was all about. What I was all about. I had to go deep inside and do some serious housecleaning. There were days when I did nothing but sit on the deck and watch the river flow by. And eventually, I began to clear away this fog that I have been hiding in for so long. I began to look at myself with compassion...this poor bruised and battered soul who was so lost and alone. I began to realize that God loved this little waif. And if God loved her, surely I could. I decided to befriend her. I took her outside to play. I held her when she cried and I told her how wonderful she is. I told her she was beautiful and brave and strong and capable. And then I had to tell her a truth that hurt us both. I told her she didn't really NEED a man in her life to be complete. I told her she was going to be fine on her own. She was going to be able to take care of herself. I told her she just needed to stop and breathe...and just BE.

She listened. Thank God she listened because I was a little worried about her. Integrating that part of myself that was so scared and lonely into the woman I've become was one of the most challenging periods of my life. One that was only made possible because of the loss and subsequent pain I've been through. With God I am never truly alone. And...I like this person I've become. Genuinely.

❤️

“Whoever gets sense loves his own soul; he who keeps understanding will discover good.”
Proverbs 19:8 ESV