Healing on Marshmallow Ranch

Keeping the Light On

Wed, 21 May 2025 01:30:00 -0600

Sometimes this ol’ world seems pretty dark…darker than I’ve ever known it to be. It’s been dark before, but it always seems like the worst darkness is the one you’re walking through in the moment. I keep it my life’s mission to shine the Light of God into my little corner of the world. My sphere of influence may be small, but I pray my words are true and if there are those out there who need them, they find them. I pray I can reach people. I pray they find me. I pray.

Sometimes my life seems filled with the mundane matters of life…the everyday busy work that keeps things going. Then I’ll get a message, a nudge, a God wink that someone needs to hear. To hear something they can’t hear by themselves. That’s when I feel deeply connected to the words I’m given to share.

I received a text yesterday from Hubby #1. He’s doing really well after his heart and kidney transplants in the last year. He feels better than he has in a decade. He’s outside, doing things like shoveling two truckloads of mulch onto their landscaping. He’s happy as a clam to get out and LIVE again. There’s still a lot of healing to do yet. The decade of severe illness, as well as the trauma of the transplants themselves, has taken its toll and they both are working to heal the injuries no one but God can see. They have love, they have faith, and they have hope again.

He sent me a text to see about getting together with my brother this summer. They haven’t seen each other in such a long time, he just wanted to check with me to see if there was anything he needed to know before a visit, like stamina, physical status, etc. I was touched that he would make a special trip to see my Bubby. Before Hubby #2 got so sick, he and his wife would drive the five hours to come pick up my brother just to take him out for a meal and spend some time together.

This got me to thinking about the dynamic we have worked hard to nurture. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, and I know there are cases….probably more often than not…where it is healthier to just go your separate ways and that’s that. Even though my marriages weren’t always healthy when we were together, there was enough love there to work hard at creating a loving and supportive friendship that would last over our lifetimes. It was very important to me, not just for us, but for the kids and grandkids.

When I married Mr. FixIt, Mrs. FixIt 1.0 came with the deal as far as I was concerned. I didn’t push, I didn’t have an agenda, there was no timeline. I just knew in my heart, that to get love, you must give love. I dearly love my husband’s first wife. We talk on the phone, sometimes every day, sometimes for an hour or more. We both know we have a mutual respect for our positions in the family, and the kids and grandkids feel that. They never feel like they’re in the middle or that they have to choose. Every time I get off the phone with her, I thank him for bringing her into my life…giving me such a good friend.

I know it could have been a lot different. When my second marriage fell apart, I was broken. I prayed hard that God would heal my family. Of course, my idea was that we would get back together and be one big happy family. Then one day I realized…God DID heal my family. He taught me a way to grow love where hurt used to be. He showed me how to forgive where anger got in the way. He taught me how to share the ones I love with the ones they love. He gave me a family…a healed and whole family that’s more than TWICE the size it was before.

He gave me another chance. Who am I to waste that gift? God kept the light on for me. He’ll keep it on for you, too.

And…so will I.

🩵🔆🩵

“The Lord isn’t really being slow about his promise, as some people think. No, he is being patient for your sake. He does not want anyone to be destroyed, but wants everyone to repent.” ‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭3‬:‭9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Gratitude Journal 
Today, I am grateful for the extended family God has given me that reaches across the divide of divorce to form a new kind of love and respect for each other.

What Was I Thinking?

Sun, 06 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

The Inimitable Christine Lavin. (Credit: Christine Lavin)

Back at the turn of the century, Hubby #2 and I split up. My self esteem was in the toilet and my friend Karen asked me to go to a musical performance by Christine Lavin. She is a folksinger songwriter with quirky fun way about her. When I was a DJ on Public Radio, I played a lot of her songs. While I wasn’t really up for it, I made myself go…and I’m so glad I did.

Christine loves to gather with her audience before her shows. She’ll sit in the lobby and paint your nails or have a knitting circle as she asks about you and your story. I’ve only seen her twice, but we have spoken a few times since. She is just a sheer delight and I’d really like to see her again someday.

Christine Lavin and Friends at a knitting circle. (Credit: Christine Lavin)

Mr. FixIt was gone most of the afternoon, so while I cleaned house and made a double batch of granola, I watched YouTube videos. One popped up that I hadn’t seen. Christine Lavin on CBS Sunday Morning when Charles Kuralt was the host. I was tickled to death to see this and it captures the artist exactly as I remembered her.

Those were hard times for me during the first stages of divorce. Listening to Christine sing “What Was I Thinking” and “Harrison Ford” and “Cold Pizza for Breakfast”….”Bald Headed Men,” “Regretting What I Said,” and “Good Thing He Can’t Read My Mind” lifted my heart and made me start to find myself again.

Credit: Christine Lavin

There are moments in your life that you will always remember and many of them are associated with music. The Coca Cola Summer of Stars when the lead singer of The Temptations held my hand, looked in my eyes and sang “My Girl.” Or James Taylor singing “Up On The Roof” at Red Rocks as a full moon rose over Denver. Or John Denver singing “Country Roads” to this little West Virginia gal who was so homesick. Then there was Christine Lavin singing “Shining My Flashlight on the Moon” in the auditorium of Carbondale High School when I started to put the pieces of my heart back together.

“Where words fail, music speaks.” Hans Christian Andersen

🩵🌷🩵

“Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭25‬:‭20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the music in my life that soothes, heals, and uplifts a weary heart.

Today is Mr. Virgo's 12th Angelversary

Wed, 12 Mar 2025 01:30:00 -0600

The time keeps marching forward… further away from the actual loss. That doesn't mean he's gone from my memory or my heart.

For those of you who are grieving the loss of your special person, my heart is with you. Your grief is the worst in the world for the precise reason…it is YOURS. You watch the world around you in a dazed fog, trying to figure out which is worse…accepting their death or pretending they're just away on a trip. You feel like half of you is missing. You can't imagine living another day, let alone a week, a month, or years. I hear you. I didn't either. You move from thing to thing, mindlessly. You don't eat much, and when you do, it's likely a bowl of cereal standing over the sink. You spend money you shouldn't because you thing, "Why not? There's no way I'm going to survive this so I might as well spend to soothe." That's not a viable coping strategy…trust me. You lose all the color from your world…there's no music, or feelings, or hope, it seems. But, let me tell you…there is hope. I'm here as proof.

With less money, more wrinkles, and changes that can't even be described. But one day, you'll see colors. You'll hear music. and the tears will gradually be replaced with a gentle smile from a memory of your loved one. There will still be waves from time to time, but they don't drown you anymore.

Ever forward.

Ginny

Stories and Updates

Sat, 22 Feb 2025 02:30:00 -0600

First, I wanted to give you an update on Hubby #2. He had the kidney transplant on Monday and was released from the hospital yesterday. They’ve rented an Air B&B to stay close for doctor’s appointments for a while. He reported to me yesterday that the kidney is working like a charm. I want to thank you all for your continued prayers. God is good…all the time!

I saw something come across my FB feed yesterday. There were some old photos of the area around the New River Gorge and the Hawk’s Nest Rock Overlook here in WV. I never visited this area till much later in life…probably in my forties. But as I was growing up, my grandma talked about Hawk’s Nest. I can’t quite remember what she used to say about it. She had a saying for everything. Like “A dime’s worth a smell o’ my jug.” Or “Wish in one hand, spit in the other…you get just as far.” When I would tell her about one of my hare-brained scheme about traveling somewhere, I seem to remember her saying “She’s a goin’ to Hawk’s Nest.” Meaning, it was a fool’s errand. She was a pip!

I saved a portion of my bread dough the other day so I made homemade pizza for supper last last night. It’s so much better than restaurant pizza. I’m really enjoying all this baking. I was a little worried because I hadn’t weighed myself for a week or so. I was sure I’d gained weight from all these yummy baked goods. However, I got on the scale yesterday morning and it was exactly the same. I know I gained a few pounds after I got back from Colorado, but I’ve maintained the same weight all winter. I should be able to start losing in the spring when I become more active.

Warm weather is coming, kids! Hang in there!

💜

“Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” ‭‭John‬ ‭14‬:‭12‬-‭14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for Hubby #2’s healing and friendship. It took us a lot of work to mend some fences and the fact that he is doing this well is a miracle.

#Family, #Healing, #Pizza

Dismantling Christmas and Getting Good News

Thu, 13 Feb 2025 02:30:00 -0600

Ever since the Covid lockdown, I’ve left the Christmas tree up till Super Bowl Sunday. We were so excited by the game, I didn’t even think of it. Mr. FixIt had an appointment in town yesterday so I stayed home and started taking the Christmas decorations down. And of course, since I’m a multitasker, I started a triple batch of Kate’s Soft Sourdough Sandwich Bread…my new go-to for baking bread, rolls, pizza crust, and cinnamon rolls. As I write this, it’s 11:00pm and I’m going to be up late baking again. Actually, I kinda like having the house quiet while I work on projects.

I received some good news yesterday. Hubby #2 has been getting dialysis three times a week since his kidneys stopped working after his heart transplant. The last few weeks, he’s been having tests to see if he could get approved for a new kidney and he finally got the call Tuesday. He’s on the list! His transplant team are perfectionists so the kidney has to be an exact match. It could be this week, or next. We don’t know. But I know he covets your prayers so if you would please pray for the right donor for him, we would all be so appreciative.

This last year has been very difficult for our family. With nearly losing my daughter’s dad and my other daughter’s mother-in-law, we’ve all grown so much closer. In 2000, my second marriage didn’t end well and there was a lot of lingering pain. As I was walking through all that, I decided my anger wasn’t helping anyone. So, whenever he popped into my mind, I prayed earnestly for his happiness and for God to heal my family. Being the instant gratification girl that I am, I wanted it done in a hurry…thank you very much. Over time, that prayer turned into my salvation as I came to Christ in 2004.

Hubby #2 went on to marry a wonderful Christian woman. And I met and married Mr. Virgo. We were both happy for the other, but there was still a difficult distance. As you know by my embrace of Mrs. FixIt 1.0, I wish always to have a familial relationship with my exes. I think it’s better for us and better for the kids. As you can imagine, facing the prospects of an early death created a spiritual journey for #2 and Jesus created an awakening in him that opened his heart to a renewed friendship with me. We text when he’s in dialysis. I share spiritual messages with him and I know how much he appreciates that. When I see a short video when a message, I copy it into a message and leave it in my phone. As the two days between dialysis pass, I add more so that when he’s at the kidney center, he’ll have good things to contemplate. This has healed both of our hearts immeasurably and takes me back to those early prayers in 2000.

“Lord, heal my family.” And look what He’s done! More than I could have ever imagined.

God is Good…ALL the time!

🙏🏼

“For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭14‬-‭15‬ ‭NIV‬‬

***Gratitude Journal*** Today I am grateful for the friendship and fellowship I enjoy with my former husband. God not only healed my family…He gave us a totally new relationship. We are now brother and sister in Christ and I couldn’t ask for anything more beautiful than that.

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

I Love You More…..

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

(Trigger Warning: This post discusses sexual abuse.)

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

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

“That’s information.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did _____________ molest you as a kid?”

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

“Well….because he molested me, too.”

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

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

As she would say… “I love you more…”

🙏🏼

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

Finding Peace Where I Can Get It

Mon, 13 May 2024 01:30:00 -0600

I celebrated Mother’s Day in quite the organic way. Sleeping in the camper and waking up to the beautiful sounds of songbirds all around me was a lovely way to wake up. Mr. FixIt texting me a tender Mother’s Day greeting. Fixing a lovely breakfast of Popcorn Pancakes, turkey sausage and eggs. And a pot of decaf coffee! Going off coffee completely a couple years ago was healing to my body. I’ve replaced it with RYZE Mushroom Coffee, but I’ve still missed the occasional cuppa. Decaf has saved the day by allowing me coffee without all that buzz and acid.

Not too long after breakfast, I told Mr. FixIt I wanted to go out and mow. He said, “Awwww, honey…you don’t need to do that.” Meaning, I didn’t need to spend Mother’s Day mowing as if it was just any other day. I smiled and said, “It’s not work…it’s meditation time!” It was a beautiful day. I started receiving messages from all my peeps to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. Yet, it was getting along in the evening after supper and I still hadn’t heard from my girls.

The old me would have jumped on the hamster wheel that is my brain and start imagining that they don’t love me. I would have ruminated on every minor and major mistake I ever made in parenting and concluded I was a failure at being a mom. This is what happens when you are the child of an alcoholic and suffer from childhood trauma and PTSD. Lots of therapy and personal growth has changed how I view things, how I deal with disappointments, how I live my life. It’s a much better landscape in my head these days. Once I let go of all expectations of how other people treat me or think about me or DON’T think about me…I became free to just accept the love that comes my way and give the love I have to others while keeping a generous portion for my “self”.

Then, lo and behold…I went out to gaze at my pollinator gardens and get some more pictures when Daughter #1 called. We had a long, lovely conversation and, this strong woman I raised (who keeps her cards close to her vest) told me she loved me. Within the hour, Daughter #2 called with the same message. I was barely off the phone when Daughter #3, my bonus WV daughter called and that made three! My daughter-in-law checked in first thing in the morning. My bonus son is a guy so, you know…it’s different with guys.

Actually, Mr. FixIt Jr. did something for me this weekend. He was so impressed by my photos of the Northern Lights that he submitted them to the local TV station and they ran with the feature story about sightings. That was pretty cool! You can see it here: https://www.wtap.com/2024/05/12/northern-lights-reached-mid-ohio-valley-friday-night/

Overall, it was probably my best Mother’s Day in a long time and for that I am most grateful. Allowing life to unfold as it will makes it so much sweeter.

🌸☀️🌸

“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.”
Proverbs 22:6 NIV

The Perspective of Time

Tue, 07 May 2024 01:30:00 -0600

I have a group of gals who get together periodically and camp. We have a group text where we catch up and plan camping trips and figure out who’s bringing what for meals. Yesterday, we received the sad news that one of the gals lost her husband last week. He was quite a bit older than her, but was generally healthy till the last couple of months so she certainly didn’t expect to become a widow that day. Then again, who does?

I also received a text from Hubby #2 asking for some dates he needed. I had to sit for a few minutes and try to figure out…when were we married? When were we divorced? It gave me pause. An event that I truly thought I couldn’t possibly survive, let alone recover from, had become more of a distant memory than anything else. It isn’t in the forefront of my thoughts. To be able to be friends now is so much more important to me.

Time is such a slippery thing. When I was newly divorce, and newly widowed, I was wounded to my core. The future was indecipherable…unimaginable. There were so many questions. Would I ever survive this? Would I ever find joy again? Would I ever have peace? You can’t imagine that the answers to any of these questions would be yes!

That doesn’t mean the hard things go away. There is a place in my heart that still grieves over the loss of that marriage. You aren’t with someone 20+ years and not be affected for the long term. I still have dreams about him. Some say that’s unfinished business. I say that’s your heart rewriting the story to fit reality. My grief from divorce was similar in ways to the grief of losing Mr. Virgo.

Hearing of my friend’s arrival to widowhood made my heart ache for her. When you’ve been down this road, you have an understanding…an unspoken kinship. You just “get it” at an entirely different level than someone who hasn’t experienced that loss…yet.

If you or someone you know is grieving, please know my heart is with you. There are no rules, no guidebooks, no recipes of how to get through such a loss. You just have to look for support where you can get it, and keep moving forward…one day, one hour, one minute at a time. Till you can breathe again.

💔

”The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.“
Psalms 34:18 NIV

Kiss Me Sunshine!

Mon, 25 Mar 2024 01:30:00 -0600

We had a lovely day here on Marshmallow Ranch. The sun was bright and the sky was blue, but it was still a bit on the chilly side. Our house is red brick and absorbs the suns rays. It gives off the most divine heat, even when the air itself is cool. I love to go out and stand with my back against it and get a little dose of Vitamin D. It warms my bones and lightens my heart.

Mr. FixIt left for the bowling alley early so he could swing by Mr. FixIt Junior’s place to check out his latest project. They bought the empty lot next door to their house last spring. It was covered with trees so they spent the rest of the year felling them and cutting the wood for their summer fires. As soon as it got warm enough, but before the underbrush had a chance to grow, he rented a stump grinder to get rid of about seventy-five tree stumps. This will make the property usable and more attractive. Mr. FixIt said the stump grinder he rented was huge and ran on tracks like a dozer. And, he did a great job.

I’ve been knitting Sue’s socks and I’m just finishing the heel on the second one. I took a break and walked around the fields to get a look at what might be popping up. I didn’t see much of anything down in the pollinator gardens save for wild grasses. But, there were little purple flowers popping up and a few dandelions here and there. I’m always happy to see these as they feed the first bees who are hungry and weak from wintering over. We use no pesticides here, so I don’t do anything to discourage what grows naturally.

The spring onions are the very first things I notice in the fields when the ground starts to wake up. They come out at the same time as the daffodils and forsythia. They are wild and you can see them easily because they stand up about six inches above the grass and usually have a little curly cue on the top of the leaves. When I was growing up, Grandma had two beautiful fawn colored Jersey dairy cows. I walked up the hill to the cow shed with twice a day to bring the cows down to the barn to feed and milk them. Grandma filtered and pasteurized the milk, collect the cream, and churn butter about once a week. I always loved the milk and butter…except in the spring. The cows would eat those spring onions and the milk and butter tasted…well, like onions. And, as a child, I did NOT like onions! There was no way to disguise it, either. I learned that when I had my first taste of chocolate onion milk! Ugh!

As I’m sitting here writing, the birds are calling in the hedgerow. The other night, we were watching To Kill a Mockingbird. There was a quiet scene and the birds were calling. Mr. FixIt asked, “Is that a mockingbird?” I said, “I don’t think so.” I opened my Merlin app to identify the bird and again he said, “Hear that? I think that’s a mockingbird.” He was intently studying the screen. I grinned and said, “Babe, mute the TV for a second.” He did…and the bird was just outside the door in the forsythia. He started laughing and said he SWORE that was on the TV! He’s so cute!

Today is knitting group. I’m looking forward to show and tell with my items from the knitting retreat. One of our ladies won’t be there this week and she will be missed. I’ve grown quite fond of these ladies and really look forward to our time together every Monday. I hope you had a nice weekend!

🌷

”And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.“

Hebrews 11:6 NIV

#Sunshine, #Spring, #Healing

Celebrating Mr. Virgo

Wed, 13 Mar 2024 01:30:00 -0600

Yesterday marked eleven years he’s been gone. Mr. FixIt held me the night before and kissed the top of my head. His voice was soft as he stroked my hair and offered me love and support. I thanked him for making room in our marriage for Mr. Virgo’s memory. He said, “Of course! He will always be a part of your heart and mind.” He’s such a wonderful man.

Every year is different, yet the undercurrent of “gone, but not forgotten” runs ever present…like the background hum of electricity. We celebrated Mr. Virgo yesterday with one of the meals he taught me to make. Liver and onions. I hated that meal when Grandma made it. She cooked it to death and it tasted dry like shoe leather. Mr. Virgo taught me to flash fry it and serve it when it was just barely pink in the center. The onions had to be browned low and slow to get that beautiful caramelized finish that really brings out the flavor. I added steamed fresh asparagus and air fried seasoned potatoes.

I also baked an apple pie. This is the second time I’ve used the wrong apples and been disappointed with the results. I used eating apples instead of cooking apples because that’s what I had that needed using up. At any rate, when I served up a slice to Mr. FixIt, I told him what Mr. Virgo would say. Every time he heard that I had been a competitive baker, he’d snort with mock derision and say, “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that…she never bakes for me!” There was a reason…if I baked, we’d eat the whole thing. As it was, I gained a lot of weight when we were together because I got tired of cooking myself a separate meal and I began eating all that yummy meat and potatoes he was so fond of. I really have to watch it here because in typical male fashion, West Virginia comfort foods are in big demand.

We need to plant the irises that we dug up in the vacant lot Monday afternoon. We’ve settled on an area along the fence along the top of the stair well to the basement. We see it every day, and it’s nice and warm there, well drained and full-sun. I can’t wait till they bloom. They are as close to black as you can get in a flower. The spot we chose has sunk down over the years so we are going to dig up some dirt from the creek bank and then put topsoil over that. We have a bunch of rock that surrounded an old flowerbed and I want to place them around the periphery.

The afternoon was so warm and sunny. While the pie was baking, I took a walk down to the pollinator gardens to see if anything is popping up and so far it’s just grasses. We don’t even have dandelions yet. It won’t be long though. I came back up in time to take the pie out of the oven, then pulled my chair out of the building and sat in the sunshine to knit for a while. I’m nearly finished with the first sock of Sue’s pair.

Friends checked in throughout the day and sent their loving thoughts. It was a great day to toast an awesome man…WITH an awesome man!

This is an awesome life and I am filled with gratitude for its beauty.

🌷

”And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds,“
Hebrews 10:24 NIV

It’s My Re-Birthday!

Sat, 06 Jan 2024 02:30:00 -0600

On January 6th every year I celebrate my re-birth day. This is the day I didn’t die. January 6, 2000 is the foundation upon which I have stacked every day since. The comparison of where I am now compared to where I was then is unbelievable. Sometimes I look back and it’s like all that happened to someone else. I don’t relive the events like I used to. I’m far less likely to share the whole story with new friends. It’s not who I am anymore.

Looking back now with an understanding of my place somewhere on the autism spectrum, it’s no wonder I reacted the way I did when it happened. It was incredibly traumatic. If you want to read about it, I’ve posted it here in the past. Here’s one retelling, but I’ll not write about it again. I’ll just celebrate how far I’ve come. And, celebrate 24 years of sobriety. https://www.marshmallowranch.com/the-pivoting-point/

So, instead of dwelling on the not-so-good parts of the past, I asked my Mr. FixIt to go to the farm with me yesterday. Everything was in order. The table I was thinking might work, won’t. It wasn’t sturdy enough. I did bring home several bags of things my Aunt Peeps set aside for my Aunt Rosie. I went through it to make sure what was in it. Some of it goes to my uncle, and some to the step grandchildren of my aunt. And the rest goes to my cousin.

Since the table didn’t work out, we drove up to Harrisville to Arlo’s Antiques. They had two tables that would work. One was too expensive, and the other didn’t have a price so I need to call today and talk to the wife when she’s there. I would love that second table. It is so sturdy. It looks like something out of a chemistry lab. I have a feeling it’s going to be too spendy though. While we were there, we wandered around looking at everything and I found almost a complete two years’ worth of The Workbasket magazines.

I’ve been wanting to crochet a couple of doilies for the end tables we bought from an enterprising student from one of the local high schools. He buys things and fixes them up for resale. I think they’d be pretty with a big doily on it to protect the surface. I can’t remember if Mom got these or my Grandmother but I distinctly remember reading them every month. Between these and the Needleworks & Crafts magazines, my passion for all kinds of handwork was born.

I need to get a hat and scarf made today to take to the Former Mrs. FixIt at our great grandson’s 4th Birthday Party tomorrow. I’ll also start another tote/basket and do that cooking I said I’d do yesterday! We’re hanging pretty close in case the weather gets dicey. Has it snowed where you are? Be safe out there!!!

❄️

”Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.“
Proverbs 22:6 ESV

The New Santa Story

Sun, 17 Dec 2023 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt went to the retiree luncheon yesterday and I stayed home to fiddle around in the kitchen. I want to make some Cranberry Walnut Bread, but I didn’t have oranges or orange juice. I ran over to the Pig to get some and when I walked in the door, I was faced with… The Christmas Story. Like in the movie. There was someone in the pink bunny suit with a Red Rider BB Gun…authentic clear down to the horn rim glasses. They had a huge “Cookie Bar”…like a salad bar, but with twenty kinds of cookies! You could fill a box for $5.99 a pound. I got a big box for the neighbor children.

I turned to go on through the store and there was Santa! He was a BIG guy! All the kids were coming around and I don’t know how he did it…but he KNEW their names! You should have seen the look on their faces…it was priceless. I watched them and I was struck with the memory of a vastly different visit with Santa ten years ago. If you’ve been around for some time, I’m sure you’ve read the story.

When the kids were gone, I had a moment to visit with the jolly old elf. I asked him if he’d like to hear a Christmas story. I told him about losing Mr. Virgo and how sad I was facing my first Christmas without him. I told him about going to the mall for hugs and watching Santa with the children. I told him how Santa motioned for me to come sit with him and how I couldn’t talk because I knew I would cry. Then, I told him that I whispered to Santa… “My husband died. I need a new heart.”

I wrote that ten years ago. I’ve told that story hundreds of times. And still, when this Santa hugged me, the tears came and it seemed like no time had passed. I asked if I could have my picture taken with him and when I looked at it I realized…the time has definitely passed. There are more wrinkles. My hair has a LOT more grey. But the biggest difference I see is now the smile on my face matches my eyes. Time marches on, doesn’t it?

As I gathered what I needed and headed for home, I felt Mr. Virgo smiling at my memories of him. He’s always with me…he lives safely tucked away in a quiet little corner of my world. And every once in awhile, I go visit him and we sit quietly in that space filled with love and happy memories. And then…I come back to my beautiful life here with Mr. FixIt.

I know there will be a wonderful reunion in Heaven someday where every day is Christmas Day. Till then, we have so many things to see and do. I love the holidays again! There was a time when I never believed I could, but here I am.

🎄

”I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,“
Philippians 1:3 ESV

#Memories, #Mr. Virgo, #Santa

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 Day is Never Wasted

Tue, 28 Nov 2023 02:30:00 -0600

So warm and cozy!!! New boots/slippers.

Whether your day is jam packed with chores or you accomplish absolutely nothing… it’s never really wasted. Your busy day got you farther along on your to-do list. But your absolutely nothing day is sure to have nuggets of gold tucked inside. Self care can be absolutely necessary, especially during the busy holiday season.

I didn’t feel like I accomplished much yesterday. I went to the Catholic Church and knitted with the girls. They were making such cute things. One is making little faceless doll babies to send overseas with a charity. Another was crocheting scrubbies on wooden spoons. Those would make great stocking stuffers or tucked in a kitchen gift basket. One found a WIP (work in progress) in her stash and she brought it with her. She and her niece sat together to figure out what it was supposed to be and they decided it was a hat. It was such a beautiful color… like a rich caramel. The other two gals were working with a big bulky yarn… one on a round loom and one knitting. I worked on a hat I’m knitting for a gift.

I went home and cleaned the kitchen from all that cooking then boxed up Mr. FixIt’s wedding ring to send in for repair. It turns out I needed to take it to town to the UPS Store so I grabbed Mr. FixIt and off we went. We had to hang out a little till the UPS Store opened so we went to Kohl’s and walked around. I found a pair of booties that I can wear for slippers and what a deal! They were regularly $49.99 but with the sale, and an extra coupon, I got them for $16! We grabbed Chinese food on the way home and it was a busy and productive day. But the best part happened first thing.

As I heated up the water for my coffee, I received a notification from someone very dear to me. I don’t know if you remember, but one of my favorite cousins on my dad’s side of the family died a few years ago from an incurable disease. He was my first crush. I was a little girl when he went off to the Navy. I so greatly remember him in his Navy Whites when he came home looking so handsome. His girlfriend was the sweetest person in the world and I was so enamored of them in their late teens/early twenties, riding around and listening to Elvis. It was a heady time for me and I loved them both dearly.

I did my best to help and support his wife….during his long illness and after his death. I provided a listening ear and a shoulder when needed. As time passed, she became more involved in her church and found new friends. I could hear in her voice that she was building this new life for herself. She built a new house. She found her sparkle. But she was absolutely certain she would never find another love…couldn’t even fathom the possibility. Then…

The phone rang.

It was a widower she had met from a neighboring church. He had received an invitation to a fancy dinner and it was addressed to him… “and Guest.” The only person he could think of was her. Would she like to go? It didn’t take long and she said yes. I’m thrilled beyond belief for her. It CAN happen. I know it doesn’t for everyone. Many aren’t interested. And that’s ok, too. That really was the high point of my day.

It was a good day. Love always wins…in one way or another.

🎄

“Let all that you do be done in love.”
1 Corinthians 16:14 ESV

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To Every Thing There is a Season

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Traveling Through the Old Dominion

Sat, 07 Oct 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I love the majestic Live Oaks of the south.

We stayed at Chippokes Plantation State Park in Surry County, Virginia the last two nights. The campground was nice but had I known the B-Loop had paved pads, I would have reserved a site over there. Those sites were far more level. This is a three day weekend so LOTS of families have come out to enjoy summer’s last hoorah! The campground is extremely busy…and a whole lot noisier. But I’d much rather hear the noise of joyful children playing than I would the noise on the television anymore.

There are several historic buildings here on the plantation. The ones that tugged at my heart were the slave quarters. A previous owner, Albert Jones, moved to Chippokes in 1837 and brought with him at least five enslaved servants to work the tobacco fields on his plantation. Within two decades, the number rose and in 1860, there were 43 individuals descended into slavery on the plantation. It was sobering. Eliza was our tour guide through the mansion. She is a retiree who volunteers to show people through the stately home. She is African American and she related the history to us with a note of solemn reverence. As we drove through the many fields of this massive estate, I held sacred space in my heart for those who were treated as less than human here at the hands of white slave owners. Slavery was a shameful part of our history and must not be forgotten nor repeated.

There were mushrooms everywhere!

When we got back to the campground, I cooked a great big pot of spaghetti and sauce. We have enough left over for two meals while we’re on the road. We need to stop at the pharmacy on our way to our campground today. We have had trouble getting this particular prescription refilled before when we traveled to Colorado. Some states consider it a controlled drug and some do not. The problem happens when you try to fill a medication that is controlled in the originating state and not controlled in the receiving state. It really limits your options. I don’t know how people get this medication when they travel full time. I guess we can only be gone for thirty days at a time and have to leave the day we fill the prescription. It is just really frustrating when it’s a medication that is medically necessary for a diabetic, but because of the opioid crisis…even though this is not an opioid…the drug has been reclassified as controlled because people were mixing it with fentanyl or some such thing. I think when this trip is over, I’m going to start a campaign to make medically necessary exceptions to that law because this is ridiculous.

As we packed up last night, we had a funny thing happen. The handle on the screen door stuck and I could not open the door! Mr. FixIt was on the outside looking at me and I was on the inside looking out at him. We were both so tired we just started laughing. He removed the latch that the door hooks on so neither of us would get stuck inside then we’ll find a way to fix the door or we’ll buy a new latch. They make these things out of plastic and they are not built to last.

This land has been farmed for over 400 years. The last owner of the plantation gave it to the Commonwealth of Virginia with the stipulation that it be continually farmed and used for education and the enjoyment of all who come to visit.

We truly enjoyed the beautiful woods surrounding our campsite the last couple of days and we are looking forward to the soothing sounds of the ocean rocking us to sleep in the coming week. I’ll talk to you soon!

🍁

“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

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Hello October! Cute mug with fall theme…perfect for that cup of hot cocoa!

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In My Other Happy Place

Wed, 13 Sep 2023 01:30:00 -0600

Any of you who have followed me for any length of time know my happy places. With Mr. FixIt and my family…at The Farm…on the tractor at Marshmallow Ranch…or in the Camper. Yesterday was such a cozy day and I was definitely feeling my happy titer rising. Gail and I knitted for awhile, then went to town, hoping to visit with Lonnie at Mama’s Attic before she closes up shop, but she was closed till today. I’ll try again later. By the time we fiddled around town, I was starving so we went to The Roadhouse for lunch.

Gail’s Autumn Sedum

When we got back to the campground, it was siesta time. As soon as I got in the camper, it started pouring the rain down. I didn’t nap…I just lay there drifting to the sound of raindrops on the roof of the camper. I seldom revisit my early days of camping when I was newly bereaved and wandered through the wilderness and backroads of Colorado. However, I do let my mind wonder at how different things are now.

After the Rain

I can distinctly remember the very early days of The Grand Adventure. I was barely at my first campsite and I got really sick with a bad cold. I was prepared for just about any eventuality, so I took medicine, ate soup, and stayed cuddled up in bed for three days. I’ll bet I slept twenty hours a day that week. I was so tired. I’d been running around like crazy since Mr. Virgo died. There was SO much to do, and I really hadn’t given myself much time to just be with my grief.

A very faint but full arc rainbow.

I can’t say I ever became friends with grief. But I did learn how to live with it…eventually. That little camper…TOW-Wanda…was my safe place. My healing place. My cocoon when I could block out the world and just BE. The camper itself is what I became friends with. It’s ability to embrace me and hold my tears and fears for safekeeping. I still feel that magical embrace when I enter my space.

I am so incredibly blessed to have a husband that holds me close while he lets me go at the same time. He so generous and loving and patient and kind. I miss him tremendously when I am away from him. And when we get back together after time apart, it’s the act of coming home when I feel his warm embrace.

I don’t take a moment of that for granted. I know how fast things can change so I make sure he knows just how cherished he is. Yes, I am blessed with so many happy places. This is just one of them. We called in the owls again last night. This time I got a picture of a beautiful Barred Owl in the tree not twenty feet from me.

He sat there for quite a while and never made a sound. By the time I went into the camper, there were several nearby…calling back and forth.

We are so blessed when we find such goodness in the world.

???

“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

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Looking ahead to the holidays…Meowy Christmas is for those cat lovers on your shopping list!

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A Little Touch of Autumn

Sat, 05 Aug 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I’m so glad it’s the weekend and we got through this first week back. Remedial mowing was fun. At least it wasn’t blistering hot like it had been. Then there were two days with trips to town…both for appointments for Mr. FixIt. He’s suffered with back pain for years and I think we’re onto something here with the treatment plan. It’s helped one problem, but uncovered another because the pain was masking it. Now that we’ve uncovered what’s going on, we have a plan to work with and I’m sure we’ll having him back to his happy self in a short while. The man NEVER complains, so when he admits he’s in pain, I pay attention.

When we were at his appointment on Thursday, they gave him his first Pneumovax injection for pneumonia. I was looking something up on phone to ask about and when I looked up, the medical assistant was putting the bandage on the injection site and it was way up on his shoulder joint. Now, you may recall, I did this for a living and you don’t go that high. You can injure the joint itself. But it was too late at that point. We had a couple of errands to run, then we went over to City Park to listen to live music.

When we were getting back in the car to go home, Mr. FixIt winced. He could hardly move his arm. I put my hand on his arm and he was sweaty and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Mr. Virgo had left shoulder pain. Then he died. I wasn’t taking chances and I was ready to head to the ER but I went though every set of symptoms and determined it very likely was muscular. He felt fine. His arm felt like he’d been hit by a baseball bat. Neither one of us even thought of the vaccine as the culprit.

We got home and he did what he always does when he has muscular pain…he turned the heating pad up to high and put in on the sore place. Within 15 minutes, he was speaking through gritted teeth. The a light bulb went on. He looked at me and said, “You don’t suppose it’s the vaccine making my arm hurt like this, you?”

Well…duh!

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a cold compress from the freezer, whipped off the heating pad and put the icy gel pack on his booboo. Then I got him two extra strength acetaminophen and a drink. In ten minutes it started easing up. But he only slept about an hour Thursday night. So we were both pretty whupped yesterday.

We finished up our errands and headed home. He stretched out in his Big Red Chair and I headed to my friend Rain’s yard sale. I met Rain through our dear friend Sparky who died in December of ‘22. She is a multiple time cancer survivor and an incredibly talented and kind woman. She LOVES to fish. I saw on her FB page yesterday that she had multiple tubs of fabric and quilting books for sale. Her sister is a quilter. And, Rain makes jewelry from antique silverware. Sound like anyone you might know?! I bought a lot of stuff and sat with Rain and her husband in the shade of their front porch. They live on the most beautiful piece of property. It’s a little slice of heaven out there…and so quiet.

I finally tore myself away and Rain went in to get ready to go to the county fair. She was bidding on the Grand Champion Steer and needed to get there by 5:00. I came on home and had a summer supper…a tomato and onion sandwich…and that was about the end of my day. I told Mr. FixIt I need to mow today so we can stay ahead of it, then I’m going out to the farm for a few days to work on my shop. It’s time to get back in the swing of things. We don’t have anything scheduled this week, which is fine by us.

Time to have a vacation from our vacation!

“Night pierces my bones; my gnawing pains never rest.”
Job 30:17 NIV

What a Relief

Fri, 16 Jun 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I want to thank you all for your prayers for Mr. FixIt. His procedure went well and his pain has decreased tremendously. As a matter of fact, we drove to town last evening and listened to live music in the park and sat in our new camping chairs. He remarked on the way home that he feels so good…it’s incredible. The new chairs are great, by the way. Not terribly light weight, but very comfy and I love rocking in them.

We stopped for salads on the way to the park and had dinner al fresco. It was fun to see a few people there that we know but honestly, I was a little surprised I didn’t see more. I was charmed by those who did attend. There were tons of folks in walkers or with canes and I thought, “You go, girl! Way to get out there and rock!” It was great!

The newlyweds are on their honeymoon and they’ve been sharing photos in a group chat of the sunsets and the great food they’ve been eating. We were sitting at the park and our son shared a photo of his plate of food. It was so funny so we all started sharing pictures of what we were eating and what we were looking at. It was great fun but I hope it doesn’t discourage the kids from sharing. They are having the time of their lives!

I need to get the camper straightened up and restocked because I leave Sunday to camp for four days with my camping friends. I have to gather my knitting to work on. We take turns cooking for our shared meals so I need to shop a little bit. I’ll have to stop in Williamstown to dump the waste tanks on the way to the campground.

It will be no time and we’ll need to pack for the Colorado trip. These month long trips are epic!

“Always be joyful. Never stop praying.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16-17 NLT

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Thank you for supporting my writing. I’ve offered my heart to you here for the last ten years for free. My shop helps me pay for the extras that add up…the website and resources needed to keep Marshmallow Ranch up and running. I have the best readers on the internet and I want you to know how much I appreciate you all. Thank you!

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Thoughts on Grief and Loss

Tue, 14 Mar 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I ran across this picture yesterday. It was taken in Rocky Mountain National Park one sunny fall afternoon. Mr. Virgo had his cameras and long lens and was shooting photos of the surrounding mountains. The meadows were full of elk, coyotes, rabbits and who knows what. The sky was perfect and there was a gentle breeze blowing. It rustled the dried grasses in waves of gold.

I brought my pastels with me to capture one of my favorite scenes in the park. The backdrop of purple mountains and the foreground of fall colors was separated by a band of red stick dogwood. The sun was just warm enough to ward off the autumn chill blowing over the early snow on the surrounding peaks. I was lucky enough to spend a few hours there…doing my best to capture the raw beauty around me.

I never finished that piece. I found it tucked away when I was preparating to sell the Colorado house and downsizing my life into what would fit in a few boxes. Unfortunately, it was smudged and something had stained it in the years since. It was beyond repair and I threw it out. Someday I’m going to go back there and try it again….maybe this summer when Mr. FixIt and I go for our annual visit to see my Colorado peeps.

I didn’t work a lot yesterday. I slept like a stone till 11:00. I guess I’ve needed the extra rest the last couple of weeks. I saw on FB that a friend lost her most special person a week or so ago. She couldn’t understand where everyone went off to. She had so many people calling her and messaging her in the days following her loss, then they mysteriously disappeared. She was blaming herself and apologizing for “not handling this better.”

I felt so bad for her because I have a pretty good idea what she’s going through. While everyone’s grief is different, there runs a deep thread of understanding anyone’s loss after going through your own. I reached out and reminded her that most people really don’t know what to say when someone has experienced a profound loss. They think if they contact you, they are somehow going to cause you more pain because they're “reminding you of your loss”…as if you might have suddenly forgotten your heart is shattered in a million pieces on the floor.

I reminded her the reaction of others is no reflection of who she is but who they are…in their own pain or inexperience. I pleaded with her to understand how much she is loved and she is not alone and people haven’t deserted her. People have lives and things to attend to like jobs and families and matters of their own. Their lives haven’t come to a standstill like hers has. Most of them don’t get it…yet.

I look forward to a time when the bereaved won’t have to feel like they’re doing something wrong when they mourn their loss. I don’t want anyone who grieves to have to do so silently thinking no one care or remembers your person. Or worse, to feel like you’re a bother. No one who grieves is a bother. It’s ok to feel your feelings and express your outrage…your pain…your frustration. In time, the need to purge lessens. A sense of control comes back. You’re never who you were before but you’ll find a way to hold your grief while opening your arms to others who have experienced loss themselves. And the more we open our arms, the more healing comes in.

It’s never gone…this empty space stays with us forever. We just learn how to walk around the holes in our hearts and not fall in all the time.

“And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory.”
1 Peter 5:4 ESV

Grief Isn’t Something to Fix

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

When your car breaks down, you call a mechanic. When the drain is clogged, you call a plumber. When you’re sick with a fever, you call a doctor. But who do you call when your heart has been ripped out of your chest and you’re left standing there…holding it in your hands? And you’re still breathing? When it happened to me, believe it or not, the first person I called was Hubby #2. He was a doctor. He was my friend. He’d know what to do.

There was a whole line of people who stepped up and surrounded me with the sweetest loving support. They held me. They cried with me. They prayed for me. They did everything they could for me and yet…no one could “fix” me. As much as I wanted that, it just wasn’t possible. There was only one person who could and I kept close company with Him. I pleaded every day for Jesus to come and sit with me and hold me close.

Every day, I cried to God to take this off of me. He did not. I hated Him for taking my husband away. I bargained. I screamed. I threatened. But no matter what I did, He would not lift my grief till it ran its course on HIS time, not mine. It didn’t seem fair. It felt like I’d been robbed. And I was. Any of us who lose a part of ourselves through death understands exactly what I’m talking about.

There are several of you reading who are walking through this dreadful journey, even as we speak. I know your heart is breaking. I know there is a thin line between fear and anger. I know you feel like a part of you died with your person…as real as if your arm had been amputated. I see you. I know you. I stood where you are standing. Maybe not in the exact same spot, but so similar as to make not a speck of difference.

As I took my turn painting the hallway yesterday, my heart really wasn’t in it. Painting isn’t my most fun activity and my shoulder hurt and I was in the middle of something I’d much rather work on. I could have stood there grumbling, making myself even more miserable. Or, I could let my mind wander the paths it took me and I slowed my breathing and my brush strokes. I let the word association of analogies take over inside my head and let my arm go with the flow.

It wasn’t long till the analogy came to me. There will always be people along your life journey that will want you to paint a clean coat of paint over your messy self so they don’t have to be uncomfortable being around you. Blunt, but true. I will hazard to say a rather large number of them have no idea what they’re doing is hurting you. Another percentage will have an understanding that what they’re asking of you isn’t terribly helpful, but they just don’t know what else to do. It has been my experience that very few of them are intentionally mean, but it’s not unheard of.

There will be times in your grief where you need to gather up every bit of strength and slog through something you never dreamed you could do. There will be times when you cannot find the strength to get out of bed let alone anything truly functional. But please, mark my words, there will be moments of light in the darkness. When you can, string those moments together and wrap them around you like a strand of dim market lights that illuminate a few feet in every direction.

Eventually, the color returns. You’ll notice music again. The seasons will change and so will you. Just be careful with those coats of paint. They’re easy to hide behind, but without facing the slings and arrows that are thrown at you, you will miss the gems God throws down in the flames of your life. Pick them up. Tuck them in your pockets. You may not understand what they are all about, but eventually, the Holy Spirit will reveal their meaning to you. Insights will come if you ask for them.

I know not all of you are believers, but I speak to everyone. Place your feet on the Earth and your face to the sky and ask the wind to whisper comfort to your poor broken heart. Ask for healing and wisdom and insight. Hand everything over at the end of the day. I know my God puts them in a special basket for safe keeping and hands them back to me in the morning.

And, you know what?

That basket is always just a bit lighter the next day…sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. But always lighter.

“If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.”
Psalms 34:18 MSG

An Unexpected Christmas Gift

Mon, 26 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I didn’t sleep well Christmas Eve. I was too hot, even after I moved to the guest room which is downright chilly. I tossed and turned and finally got up around 9:00. I made breakfast…warmed up a biscuit, fried up some of that ham we got on special at Aldi’s, and some scrambled eggs. That ham was the saltiest I’ve ever tasted. I checked the wrapper to see if it was a cured ham that needed soaked and it was not. But I knew as soon as I ate it, I would regret it.

It’s never fun to feel sick. It’s especially not fun to feel sick on Christmas Day. To top it off, I had two phone calls that made me sad…family health issues. I changed back into my jammies and went back to bed and slept till 5:00! I woke up feeling a bit better but still had a headache.

We watched a football game and I started knitting Christmas Stocking #5. I still haven’t added up how many I need to make so who knows? I’ll probably be knitting them till Thanksgiving next year! I finally reached my brother last evening. He’d been trying to call me all day but was having technical difficulties with his new phone. I hope it works out ok.

When I headed to the back of the house to write this, I told Mr. FixIt that it’s a darned good thing he is self-sufficient and I don’t need to babysit or entertain him all the time. That was one thing that was possibly going to become cumbersome in my relationship with Mr. Virgo. He told me at the outset that if I was one of those women who had to take off and travel without him, he wasn’t interested. I agreed to those terms because that’s actually what I was looking forward to after having been married to a doctor who was gone a lot.

It turned out that he didn’t just want me to be home with him. Mr. Virgo wanted me to sit on the couch beside him and watch the same shows so we could discuss them during the commercials. He didn’t want me to work on the computer or play on my phone or hang out in the bathtub for an hour for a little space. We weren’t together long enough to know if this was going to be a big problem, but I have a feeling it could have become one.

That’s why I’m so thrilled that Mr. FixIt and I have our life together AND we have our separate interests and our OWN lives. I think it’s much healthier for the long haul. Granted, the pandemic certainly curtailed our separate adventures the last three years, but we’ve found ways to have our own space.

The weather is still frigid here in West Virginia, but the temps are on their way up. I believe we are expected to be above freezing by Tuesday and by the weekend we’ll hit 60°!!! I’ll take it! It should be fun for the FixIt Family Festivities on Friday. Maybe we’ll have a bonfire and roast marshmallows. We even have some fireworks we could set off to celebrate an early New Year! I know Chili and Homemade Cinnamon Rolls are on the menu and that’s always yummy!

I hope you were able to celebrate in whatever way you do…or don’t. My day turned out to be the gift of restoration. The bottom line is to always do what’s right for you…especially if you are grieving or alone. Sending lots of love and light to you on this Boxing Day!

“For instance, a person who has been around for a while might well be convinced that he can eat anything on the table, while another, with a different background, might assume he should only be a vegetarian and eat accordingly. But since both are guests at Christ’s table, wouldn’t it be terribly rude if they fell to criticizing what the other ate or didn’t eat? God, after all, invited them both to the table. Do you have any business crossing people off the guest list or interfering with God’s welcome? If there are corrections to be made or manners to be learned, God can handle that without your help. Or, say, one person thinks that some days should be set aside as holy and another thinks that each day is pretty much like any other. There are good reasons either way. So, each person is free to follow the convictions of conscience. What’s important in all this is that if you keep a holy day, keep it for God’s sake; if you eat meat, eat it to the glory of God and thank God for prime rib; if you’re a vegetarian, eat vegetables to the glory of God and thank God for broccoli. None of us are permitted to insist on our own way in these matters. It’s God we are answerable to—all the way from life to death and everything in between—not each other. That’s why Jesus lived and died and then lived again: so that he could be our Master across the entire range of life and death, and free us from the petty tyrannies of each other. So where does that leave you when you criticize a brother? And where does that leave you when you condescend to a sister? I’d say it leaves you looking pretty silly—or worse. Eventually, we’re all going to end up kneeling side by side in the place of judgment, facing God. Your critical and condescending ways aren’t going to improve your position there one bit. Read it for yourself in Scripture: “As I live and breathe,” God says, “every knee will bow before me; Every tongue will tell the honest truth that I and only I am God.” So mind your own business. You’ve got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.”
Romans 14:2-12 MSG

There is No Time Limit for Grief

Fri, 23 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

MY Santa…my very special friend, Greg (Photo Credit: Leslie Coppedge Fore)

This is the tenth Christmas since Mr. Virgo died. So much has happened since that first Christmas without him. I’ve sold my house and gotten rid of 95% of my personal belongings. I’ve lived a nomadic lifestyle in my camper. I’ve moved across the country. I settled on the family farm…the home of my heart. I’ve become closer to Jesus. And…I found love again in the form of a kind and gentle man who makes room in his life for me and all my baggage.

I can still remember how that first Christmas felt without him. I remember the desolation. The kicked in the gut feeling I had every time I remembered he was really gone. I remember every single thing about the day I sat by Santa and cried. I remember how he placed his hand gently on my shoulder and whispered comforting words to me. He and I are still friends and always will be.

Every year, I am asked to repost that story at Christmas. I knew instinctively when I started this journey there would be others coming up behind me. I knew part of my healing would come in offering my hand and heart to those who feel the wretched pain of loss every day, but most acutely at the holidays. I knew I would never be the same…forever affected by a circumstance I never dreamed would be so painful. So, if I am feeling that pain…others are bound to be as well.

Mr. Virgo’s last Christmas…2012. It was his first Christmas Day off in 40 years!

What more can we offer to our fellow grievers than to sit quietly beside them and acknowledge their pain? I’ve written millions of words since that first Christmas, yet I’m still left at a loss as to what to say to another that would be the most helpful…the most kind…the most compassionate. So I say…

“My heart is with you, dear one.”

Always.

❤️‍?

“Blessed are the humble, for they will inherit the earth.”
Matthew 5:5 CSB

Dancing Around the Big Black Hole

Tue, 13 Dec 2022 02:30:00 -0600

We’ve talked a lot over the years about anxiety and depression. I had a period of time in my forties when I was clinically depressed. There was a lot going on…a difficult marriage, trying to be a good mom to a 16 year old AND a new baby, and dealing with the newly remembered memory of childhood sexual assault while my children were the same age as I was when it occurred. It was a really difficult time in my life.

It took a long time, but I finally got off all the medicines because I had a LOT of therapy. I gained the tools I needed to recognize an impending slump and to cut it off at the knees. There have been times I’ve danced around the big black hole that is depression. Maybe even slipped in a little. But I have climbed out and thrived again 100% of the time. It isn’t easy.

The holidays are hard on people. Especially people with soft hearts and tender feelings. I believe those who have experienced great loss are more susceptible to depression. But those are my thoughts. I’ve not seen any studies about it. It just seems that way to me. I do know along with the advent of cold, dark nights come cold, dark thoughts.

When I was in the throes of depression, it seemed I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t take a shower or brush my teeth. I couldn’t cook or clean. It was all I could do to meet the most minimal of my family’s needs. And the worse things got, the worse I felt about myself because I knew I was failing them. I just couldn’t stop. I couldn’t pull up out of it.

I always feel the slump of the winter blues. Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real thing that a lot of people feel at this time of year. There are a lot of tools that can help keep you from sliding down that slippery slope into depression. Here are some that really help me.

1. When you get up in the morning, get dressed and make your bed. You are less likely to crawl back in if the bed is made. And, even if you only make it to the couch, you’re dressed and that’s better than nothing.

2. Don’t drink alcohol. Alcohol is a depressant and, while it may make you feel a little better in the moment, in the long run it’s just going to make things worse.

3. Watch what you eat. Try to get more fruits and vegetables in and lay off the fast, fatty foods.

4. Go for a twenty minute walk at midday. Even if the sun isn’t shining, it’s the brightest part of the day and the activity will get your blood flowing. The endorphins that release with even moderate exercise really help.

5. Don’t rely on other crutches like shopping to help you cope. Negative coping strategies equal NO coping strategies. I know a little treat can help boost your mood, but when there are too many treats and the bills start making you anxious, it’s time to try a different coping tool.

6. Pick up a hobby. I couldn’t have started a king sized quilt when I was in the depths of despair because I didn’t have the bandwidth. Instead, I doodled and journaled. I had a whole stack of journals and I poured my heart out. I drew little pictures and designs. It helped to get the feelings out. Writing this blog has been an excellent tool to keep the gloomies at bay.

7. And finally…most importantly…I meditate and pray every day. Keeping Jesus front and center and reading God’s directions help keep me afloat.

I didn’t expect to go to town yesterday, but I received a text from the pharmacy that I had a prescription ready. I needed to pay a bill, and there were just a few more Christmas presents to buy for the littles. On my drive in, I felt Sparky’s presence for the very first time since she died. I couldn’t figure out why I never felt her close like I’ve felt my mom and Mr. Virgo. I was thinking to myself how much I really, really miss her and all of a sudden I could hear her as clear as day in my head. She was a salty broad…shot from the hip with language that could make a sailor blush. I won’t tell you exactly what I heard because those words are “not safe for work”. Let’s suffice it to say, she was kicking me in the butt and telling me to get over it and get on with living. She’s right, of course. She would kick me into next week for being a sad sack because of her. It’s been a year today.

I think that’s exactly why I “heard” from her yesterday. I’ve given her a year of mourning. I’ve honored her memory. I’ve shared our story. And I’ll carry her memory with me always. It’s a turning point in my grief journey. One of many I’ve had. One of many to come, I’m afraid. That’s the nature of life. There is always someone to grieve. It is the price we pay for love.

So, here’s to Sparky…may she Rest In Peace and never be far from the thoughts of those who loved her best.

❤️‍?

“Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from his earnest counsel.”
Proverbs 27:9 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

Self Care Isn’t Selfish

Mon, 28 Nov 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Actor Jonah Hill interviews his therapist, psychiatrist Phil Stutz in this touching and eye-opening documentary on Netflix…Stutz.

Last week I had a moment. I was burning the candle at both ends, running on little sleep, and trying to put on a memorable Thanksgiving Extravaganza. Then I hit the wall on Thursday and, even though there was SO much left to be done for Friday’s gathering, I gave myself permission to crawl back in my bed, pull the cozy covers up to my ears, and drift off for a few more hours of much needed rest. I sacrificed the extra baking by asking Mr. FixIt to stop on his way home from town and buy readymade pies. I knew the rest would get done and if it didn’t…it certainly wasn’t the end of the world. As it turned out, everything came together at precisely the right moment and came off without a hitch.

Self care isn’t selfish. It’s imperative that we take care of our health…physical, spiritual, and mental. Without it, there is no moving forward. If there is anything good to have come out of the pandemic, it is an increased awareness of mental health struggles. I think we all can watch the news and social media interactions and see a great number of people aren’t at their best right now. It’s frankly a little scary to see systems we always trusted to run somewhat smoothly break down in the most unexpected ways.

The people we have in our lives are there for a reason. There is a lot of truth to the adage that people are put in your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Some just come to share information. Some are there to teach us lessons. The ones I find most valuable to me are the ones who hold up a mirror and reflect back to me who I am in any given moment. We change, we grow, we move on. But sometimes, we remain stuck, trying to change the outcome of something which is futile. The past is unchangeable. It’s what we do with the information and the lessons that propel us forward that count most.

Hubby #2 and I went through a lot. We both had wounds that we recognized in each other. In our naïveté, we came together thinking we would heal each other and be together for the rest of our lives. That isn’t how it worked out. And there was a terrible amount of angst involved in the unraveling. I sank into a deep clinical depression and for a variety of reasons, was nearly doctored to death trying to come out of it. It took a long, l-o-n-g time for both of us to evolve enough to have deep conversations. I cannot speak for him, but for me, it offered the healing I longed for but just couldn’t reach while we were together.

A week or so ago, Hubby #2 sent me a message and recommended I watch a documentary on Netflix called Stutz. It’s directed by the actor, Jonah Hill and is about his therapist, Dr. Phil Stutz. This is groundbreaking. For a therapist to allow himself to be so vulnerable as to open up the way he did in front of the camera was remarkable. It demonstrated the profound trust the two of them have for one another. Jonah extols the virtues of Dr. Stutz’s teachings and credits the tools he learned in therapy for saving his life.

When I lost Mr. Virgo, I got through it…perhaps easier is not the right word. It’s more like I had been through such a terrible loss at the end of my marriage, the resultant therapy facilitated a grief journey I was much better prepared for. Had it happened the other way around, I am fairly certain I would not have survived my husband’s death. I had a lot more tools in my toolbox. But nothing quite so well articulated as the tools Dr. Stutz taught Jonah.

I decided to wait till after Thanksgiving to watch Stutz. And, I preferred to watch it alone. I knew it would stir up lots of memories and feelings and I wanted to process that without having to share it in front of Mr. FixIt. There are private moments of grief that we don’t necessarily need to share with anyone else. That’s ok. As I waited for the right moment, I wondered if Dr. Stutz had written a book. I checked online and, indeed he did. He wrote a book with Barry Michels called The Tools…5 tools to help you find courage, creativity, and willpower and inspire you to live life in forward motion. I immediately ordered it and it arrived the day before Thanksgiving.

Mr. FixIt went to town last night to hang with his bowling buddies and I knew it was my moment to watch the film. I was entranced. I stopped, rewound, paused to reflect, and started again. The 90+ minute film took me nearly three hours to get through. I want to watch it again…at least once…before I delve into the book. I absorbed a lot of it, but the biggest takeaway was this.

No one gets it right. The whole of life is a process and you will mess it up royally, but that doesn’t matter as much as simply learning to move forward through it.

These are difficult times we’re in right now. Empathy and compassion seem to be in short supply these days and any tools we can find to help us navigate the rough waters of life are blessings. I picture a world where the tools spread from one person to another to make a great wave of healing. Yes…God is the ultimate physician and God can heal us of anything and everything. And…God can touch the minds of brilliant people and inspire them to great insights into the human condition that can help people cope. That’s what I felt in this film…because it came from a place of pure, authentic love and respect.

If you get a chance, do give it a watch. There are a few coarse words in the conversations between Jonah and Stutz, but it doesn’t take away from the message overall. I’ll let you know what I think of the book when I get through it. In the meantime, remember…take care of yourselves. And each other.

“Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.”
Isaiah 58:12 ESV

JOMO v FOMO

Sat, 05 Nov 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Truth be told…I suffer a little from FOMO….Fear of Missing Out. That’s what drives me to check my social media too many times a day. That’s what keeps me tuned in to what’s going on so I don’t miss anything. FOMO is an extension of the dreaded C-word…Control. If I can see what’s happening, I can rehearse a hundred ways to respond. I can plan out conversations in my head so I’m not caught flat footed. If you find yourself doing that too, you could be sitting somewhere on the autism spectrum, like me.

I used to look at autism with a bit of a jaded eye. A sort of us versus them mentality that didn’t actually degrade those on the spectrum so I wouldn’t have to feel too bad. But that kind of thinking certainly diminishes others and it’s not a cool thing. Now that my chickens have come home to roost, so to speak, I see the autism spectrum as something akin to hyper-technicolor. Super powers with a jolt of juice.

Years of therapy taught me to re-evaluate things when new information comes in. That introspection has helped me get a better handle on my fear of missing out and has directed my attention more on the positive aspects of not being so plugged in all the %@&# time!

I’m discovering JOMO…the JOY of Missing Out!

Now when I find myself overstimulated, overwhelmed, and just plain OVER everything, I unplug and go to my happy place. Currently that’s one of two places…Grace, the Camper or The Farm. Either place brings me so much peace and joy. I can kick back at either place and happily let the world pass me by. It’s refreshing. Life affirming.

Mr. FixIt drove over to the grandkids’ farm and borrowed their big utility trailer and went to Lowe’s yesterday to get the first load of shingles for the roof. Our WV Daughter and her husband came out to help unload the trailer while I finished cooking supper. I prepared a large pot roast with gravy, some of my home canned half runner beans, and a batch of biscuits. We sat at the little bistro table in the yard and enjoyed our meal together, which was quite a treat.

After dinner was finished, I cleaned up the kitchen while Mr. FixIt took the trailer back over to the kids. We’ll have to borrow it at least a time or two to get the rest of the shingles over to the house. But we have thirty days to get that done. The boys will start on the roof over the family room in the next couple of weeks. That part isn’t all that big so it shouldn’t take too long to complete.

I’m going to practice JOMO a lot this winter! It makes me a happier camper!

“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

It’s Your Story

Fri, 21 Oct 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Everyone has a story. If you can still your ego and actively listen, you hear the most amazing stories. Funny stories…scary stories…tragic stories. Stories with a moral. Stories with a lesson. Stories with a purpose. Our stories are how we integrate with the world. They track our mission in this life and help us relate to others. Stories are sensory word bombs we drop on the souls of others.

“Maybe stories are just data with a soul.”
— Brené Brown

I come from a long line of oral historians. That’s common in Appalachia. In times past, our ancestors were often illiterate and even if they weren’t, writing supplies were dear and there may not have been funds available to keep them at hand. My mother spent the last decade of her life writing down the stories and information handed down from as far back as anyone could remember.

So these long, rambling stories I share here were born of that tradition. I always loved to write and tell stories. I wasn’t always encouraged by those I deemed important in my life. I didn’t really apply myself in school. I nearly flunked Senior English which would have kept me from graduating with my class. My interest in writing waxed and waned until Mr. Virgo died. Then I hit that with a vengeance.

Just when I think maybe I’ve written all I was meant to write, along comes someone who makes a heartfelt comment that makes me cry. Then I know…that’s God’s way of telling me to keep going, keep talking, keep writing and sharing and loving on people. Because we ALL need this. This world can be a dark and scary place, but there are so many bright and shiny spots in it if we just keep looking…keep trying…keep moving forward.

There was a long and dark space in my life when I was lost. So many things were going wrong and I had no idea how to change it and make it better. It was one of those things that I just had to ride out and pray for the best outcome. During those years, my stories were as dark as my spirit and no one wanted to listen to them. That’s because I was heavily invested in dragging yesterday’s crap behind me like a big ol’ hefty bag of trash.

I’m telling you…after a while, yesterday gets pretty darned heavy. Maybe it was getting “to a certain age” that changed me. Maybe it was losing Mr. Virgo so unexpectedly. Maybe it was just flat out exhaustion, I don’t know. What I do know is, I finally laid that junk down and kept moving on down the road. And the further I went, the less weight I felt in my chest. Oh, I forget from time to time and attempt to pick it up again, but yesterday is heavy, y’all.

Just put it down.

“With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.”
Mark 4:33-34 ESV

The Death of a Queen

Fri, 09 Sep 2022 01:30:00 -0600

My mother was eight months old when Queen Elizabeth was born. When Mom died, I kinda watched the Queen to see how my mother would have aged had she lived longer than her seventy-eight all too short years. They both were world treasures…my mom in MY world, and the Queen to all the rest of us.

I lived in England from 1973 to a couple of weeks shy of 1975. It was an amazing experience that I will cherish till my dying breath. Daughter #1 was born there. I still have dreams about the cobblestone streets and the little shops in Thatcham where we lived. I keep remembering a little yarn shop where I went in to buy some yarn and knitting needles. I was expecting my first child and I wanted to knit her a little something. I never got the hang of it and once the baby came, there was no time anyway.

The world changes on a dime, doesn’t it? When I heard the word that the Queen was “under medical supervision and the family were on their way”, I knew this was the end of a long and illustrious life for someone who seemed to be EVERYONE’S Queen. I remember when the Queen Mum passed away. I watched Princess Anne marry Capt. Phillips. I watched Prince Charles make Diana the People’s Princess.

Like other noteworthy moments in history, I will remember where I was when I heard the news. I was standing in the quilt store, looking for something in particular, when the notification came across my phone. I shared the news with the other women who were standing around the center cutting area and we all shared a memory or two. I kind of feel like I’ve lost someone special today. The end of an era. Yet another ending. There have been so many the last few years.

Not to take anything away from the death of the Queen, life quickly moved on. When I got home from the quilt shop, Mr. FixIt and I drove out to the farm and primed the pump. It didn’t take us any time to get it fixed and running and we promptly refilled the water jugs for the next time it may happen. I got down on the floor and checked the j-trap under the sink that I fixed the last time I was there and there’s still no leak. Also, the kitchen light was burned out so I changed the bulb and we called it good. Everything else was working great. It really needs mowing, but we’ll have to wait till I get back from my little sabbatical this weekend.

Earlier this week, I went into town to do some grocery shopping. There is a beautiful white house that sits on the next hill over from us and every time we drive past it, I tell Mr. FixIt how much I dearly love that place. Well, this particular day, there was a small camper out front with a for sale sign on it. I immediately called my sweetheart and told him about it. We are going to sell the a-frame and get a camper that I don’t have to open and close in the rain. One with a bathroom and a slide out that weighs under 3,500 pounds. This camper absolutely filled the bill.

It wasn’t till a couple of days later that Mr. FixIt had time to stop and look at the little camper. Turned out, there was a young couple with a baby that wanted to buy it so he figured that it was not meant to be. I wasn’t so sure. I felt that familiar niggling inside and thought…this is our camper. Two more days went by and I drove to town again. The camper was still there and still had the for sale sign on it. I called my sweetheart again and asked him to text the gal to see what was going on. Apparently the young couple ghosted her and we were welcome to come see it when she finished her errands.

As we were driving through our little burg on the way home from the farm yesterday, the gal texted and we went straight to her house. It was almost a formality to look inside it. I already knew everything about the camper from looking it up on the website. And…I had a heart connection to this woman before I even met her.

It’s a new camper…just one year old. The original purchaser was…believe it or not…the photographer at our wedding. (Small town, remember?) She soon realized a toy hauler better fit her lifestyle and sold this camper to her cousin and her husband in July. Then, just three days later, the husband collapsed and died…right in front of his wife. This was exactly what happened to me. Even if we didn’t buy the camper, I had to meet this woman and hold her in my heart.

What a joy she is! So strong, yet so devastated. Getting out from under the camper was one of the big things to cross off her list. And she wanted it to go to someone special who would love it to pieces. And here we are. Owners of yet another camper! This brings us back up to four campers, but as soon as the a-frame has the broken spring fixed, we’ll send her on to a new home. I truly…TRULY hope this is the LAST camper we ever buy!!! I believe God had His hand in this and brought us to the right place at the right time because I really like this little lady…camper AND human!

I’m going to set up reruns for the next three days and I’ll be back live with you again on Tuesday morning. Till then…make this life count! Life is like salt. What good is it if it has no flavor?

““Salt is good, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is of no use either for the soil or for the manure pile. It is thrown away. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.””
Luke 14:34-35 ESV

Life in the Country

Wed, 01 Jun 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Luna Moth on the kitchen window.

One thing about this trip…I’ve been so tired, I’m sleeping like a log! I woke up yesterday morning with a start at around 8:00. Mr. FixIt was still snoozing away. I let him sleep for a while, then noticed around 9:00 that the temperature was quickly rising. It was almost 78° already and we still needed to pack up the trailer and head to the farm to mow.

The far field. Zoom in and see our morning visitor!

I gently woke up my sweetheart and headed into the kitchen to make a couple of breakfast sandwiches and soon we were loaded up and heading for “home”. My heart still swells with the honor of being able to tend to Grandma’s home place…whether the family still owns it or not. It needed mowing and it definitely needs some pruning back of the saplings and underbrush before it takes over. The creek could use clearing out, but it won’t be by either one of us. Too many copperheads and rattlesnakes in places like that.

The farm always looks so nice after it’s mowed. That poor old elm tree needs cut down.

We sat on the porch for a bit to cool off with a cold drink and listen to the myriad birds in the woods around us. I caught a few on the Merlin app that I hadn’t found before and that was pretty cool. Tanagers and flycatchers and an American Redstart graced us with their summer songs. The Asplundh man stopped out front to check out the old dead elm tree that I’ve been trying to alert someone to these last eight years. I maybe convinced him if the creek bank gave way, that tree COULD fall on the power lines. He took my contact info to report to me what they decide. I won’t hold my breath, but it sure would be nice to get it out of there on someone else’s dime.

Grandma’s Clematis tangled in the old clothesline.

I always do a walkabout to check out the flowers around the farmhouse and they didn’t disappoint. Although I missed the beauty of the rhododendron and the peonies, there were still plenty of yellow iris on the creek bank. The clematis has taken hold and is climbing up the old clothesline pole. I even found a blossom on the Carolina Spicebush. A few years ago, my uncle hired some fellas to come and clear out the creek to keep it flowing freely. Unfortunately, they decimated the spicebush and I was crestfallen when I saw it. However, West Virginia has a climate for growing things and all those roots needed was a little time to come back to life. I hope at some point to carry some slips of all these wonderful plants and flowers and get them to grow on our five acres. I texted Frank and Beans, the new owners, some pictures of the yard and the flowers. She sent me some of the gorgeous flowers I missed while I was gone. They are the nicest people!

The Carolina Spicebush is recovering!

As I was driving back home, something caught my eye in the underbrush to the left of the road. I looked in time to see what I believe was an owl carrying off a rather large snake to feed her brood. A little further down the road, I ran over another snake. I’ve heard they’re prolific this year, although we haven’t seen one at our place yet. I put on a pot of spaghetti sauce to simmer in the slow cooker while we had our afternoon siesta. I got up to throw the rest of supper together. As I was filling up the stock pot for the pasta, a large doe quietly walked up and nibbled on some weeds along the front of the house. I slowly got my camera up high enough to shoot through glass and not window screen and took several pictures of her. Mr. FixIt was out the other night just after dark and a tiny fawn was walking after her mama in the yard. I haven’t seen babies here for a couple of years so I was glad to hear there was a newcomer. I haven’t seen it myself yet.

My visitor at the kitchen window came to nibble on some weeds while I cooked supper.

We went out on the deck Monday night to look for the new meteor shower. We did see about a dozen or so, but we didn’t have it in us to stay out there till the peak at 1:00am. Still, it was lovely to lay on the lounge chairs on the deck by the pool and enjoy the night sounds with my sweetheart. The lightning bugs are back!

My psyche has been roughed up the last few weeks. With the trip, being away from Mr. FixIt, the terrible news of the mass shootings, and the usual spates of bad news from people we love…I’ve felt pretty beat up. Having days like this where nothing is expected of me…where I can spend time in nature and at the home of my heart…where I can spent broad stretches of companionable silence with my love…these things restore me. They remind me that, even while bad things are happening, God is still providing for us and loving on us at every turn.

My heart is still shattered for the parents and families of the victims of these senseless tragedies. And for the poor, unfortunate children and teachers whose every moment of life will now be shaped by these heinous events. I have heard people saying the time for thoughts and prayers is over. I even said something to that effect right after the shootings. I would caution against taking prayer out of the mix. Yes, I believe something sensible should be done about assault rifles. AND…the parents of these slaughtered children need every bit of prayer they can get. I can’t imagine how they are surviving this and they need our love and support WHILE we try to prevent these tragedies from occurring again.

And now…it is June.

❤️‍?

“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

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

Another Project in the Books, Another Valentine’s Day

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

My sweater is finished…and yes, the tree is still up! I think it’s coming down this week!

I finished my sweater in a little less than two weeks! Of course, other than having surgery, I didn’t do much else. Mr. FixIt subbed for his friend Harry on the bowling league yesterday afternoon and came home to a hot meal of spaghetti and garlic bread while we watched the Super Bowl. Although I would have loved to see Cincinnati win, it was a really close game. No one wants to watch a championship game that’s a blowout. It just shows these two teams were well deserving competitors and they both put up a great fight.

I loved the halftime show. It reminded me of when Daughter #1 was in high school. I’d gather a car full of kids and take them out for McDonald’s and we’d blast the stereo in my little Honda Accord. Oh yeah…I was a real bad@$$ mom. *insert eye roll here*

We had a beautiful visitor in the yard. I kept hearing a bird call that I didn’t recognize. When I went in to make my coffee yesterday morning, here was this beautiful male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker poking around on the maple tree outside the kitchen window. When I played the recorded bird call on the Merlin app, it was the one I hadn’t recognized from earlier.

It’s Valentine’s Day. I remember brokenhearted Valentine’s Days in the past and I hated them. I hated that people were happy. I hated that people had partners. I was so sad to be alone and so angry at God for taking Mr. Virgo away from me. If you are on your own on this yearly recognized day that reminds you of that fact at every turn…I see you. And, my heart is with you. I know how hard it can be.

❤️‍?

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3 ESV

The Days are Getting Longer

Thu, 10 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Both sleeves completed…and they match!

Mr. FixIt had some things to do in town yesterday afternoon so I had the day to myself. As I settled into my recliner with my knitting, we watched a couple old episodes of Andy Griffith. I don’t know why, but that show is so soothing to me. It brings back warm childhood memories and I knew a whole bunch of “Aunt Bees” when I was growing up in West Virginia in the ‘50s and ‘60s. And we all knew “Miss Crump” as one of our own elementary school teachers.

At one point, Mr. FixIt was scrolling through some of the shows in On Demand and I saw the new show “Ghosts”. I’ve seen little snippets of it in commercials or on Facebook and ask my sweetie to stop on the pilot episode to see what it was all about. The premise is, an elderly woman dies and leaves her dilapidated mansion to her great niece and her husband. With dreams of leaving the city, the wife convinces her husband to convert the monstrosity of a house into a quaint B&B…complete with a plethora of trapped spirits who have died on the property over the years. I was hooked! I spent the rest of the day binge watching the series and caught up to the current date. It was exactly what I needed…a whole day of knitting and laughing and having a generally awesome day.

Along about 5:30 or so, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. It took me quite a while to figure out what it was. As I stared out the back door, I caught a sudden movement and looked up. There was Pumpkin…upside down, looking in at me. What a funny cat. She’d come back down and look in the door, then go right back up and look at me upside down again. Silly goose.

Peekaboo!

I got the second sleeve finished and picked up the parked stitches of the body. It won’t be long and I’ll be changing to the last color…a deep charcoal grey heather. I’m not saying every stitch is perfect on this sweater, but I’m pretty proud of how it’s turning out. I’m still getting really tired by the end of the day, but the pain in my neck is much improved. I had such a tickle in my throat for the first three days that I cleared it repeatedly. I believe I’ve irritated my airways and now have a deep cough. No fever, so I’ll just use my inhalers and watch it closely. If it is not better by Friday, I’ll get it checked before the weekend. Mr. FixIt brought me a sandwich for supper so there was no cooking going on at this house last night.

The weather has been beautiful this week…warmer, even into the 50’s yesterday. I love how the days are getting longer and I am getting stronger. Things are looking up!

❄️❤️❄️

“The Lord sustains him on his sickbed; in his illness you restore him to full health.”
Psalm 41:3 ESV

Feeling My Age This Week

Tue, 08 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Surgery takes the starch out of you. I slept well Sunday night and got up at a reasonable hour. I made a cup of tea and a beeline for my recliner and that’s about the extent of my day. I finished knitting the first sleeve of this sweater. I got a followup call from the surgeon’s office to see how I’m doing. I went all day with no pain medicine…the first since surgery on Friday. By the time the early news was over, I felt like I ran a marathon. I took a nice shower and got the last of the adhesive from the bandage and ECG tabs off. It was beginning to irritate my skin. Mr. FixIt brought me a frozen fruit bar and tucked me in to write.

My friends and family have been texting and calling to check in on me. Doesn’t that make you feel so wonderful when people care for you? I know how truly blessed I am to have my extended family and friend network…from all over the country. And, you have no idea what you all mean to me here. I started this blog as a way to not only help myself through my grief, but to help others along the way. I recognize so many of your names. I know so many of your stories. I feel like we’re more than just a blogger and her readers. In so many ways we are sisters and friends because we share this journey together. I know I tell you from time to time, but I just want to reiterate how much I truly appreciate you all for being here through all the ups and downs of life. I hope I help you in whatever way I can, even if it’s just holding you in my prayers.

The sun was out yesterday and the temperature climbed up close to 50°. As I sat and knitted row after row, I reminded myself, the first week of February is already over! The days are already noticeably longer. I’m so glad I had to opportunity to get this surgery out of the way earlier rather than later so now I can just concentrate to regaining my strength as I watch springtime approach. Mr. FixIt was a doll yesterday and washed the windows in the family room. The gas heater in there makes the glass filmy. Now I can see the sunshine sparkling on the snow. I wish we had another large window on the wall behind Mr. FixIt’s recliner so we can see the birds in the feeders, but then it would be terribly hot in there in the summer. I am grateful for all that we have because it’s way more than enough.

Mr. FixIt and his buddy are delivering firewood to one of the grandkids today and I will have the house to myself for a bit. I will knit and pray as a dear friend has a medical procedure done during the day. We are hoping this will help her feel much better. So, if you don’t mind, send some prayers up for her today. Thank you all so much…you’re the best!

❄️❤️❄️

“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

Another Long Day

Sun, 06 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

I slept soundly the night after surgery. Still loaded with anesthesia and pain medications, I drifted off at a decent time. It helped that Mr. FixIt was also tired after being my helpmate so it was lights out early for us. I mentioned casually that if I felt better when I awoke yesterday morning, we could possibly go home. I should have known when my sweetheart came in to wake me up, he had plans. Oh, my gosh…I was so sore. I gradually dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

There sat my Mr. FixIt, waiting expectantly on the corner of the couch, his suitcase packed and sitting on the floor beside him. His hopeful smile told me everything I needed to know. We were going home. I don’t blame him. Hotel furniture is not made to be comfortable, although the bed was divine! Our backs were complaining from sitting on that sofa so much and we both longed for our comfy recliners at home.

I had my breakfast, loaded up on Tylenol and ibuprofen, and packed my bags. Mr. FixIt got us all loaded up and off we went. The roads weren’t bad, but there were places that could be icy, and he knew he was carrying tender cargo, so we took our time getting home. The trees were still encased in ice and the sun made them sparkle like a million diamonds. It was stunning. We stopped and picked Pumpkin up from the kennel and went to Walmart for a prescription and chicken noodle soup. And as soon as we got home, I went to bed and slept for a couple of hours.

My voice is a little deep from the breathing tube. I’m tired and sore. And I headed to bed extraordinarily early. I did manage to knit a few rows on my sweater, both on the drive home, and in the recliner after my nap. But that’s about it. Just taking it slow and easy, resting and recovering. That’s what knitting and naps are for, right?

❄️❤️❄️

“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 3:7-8 ESV

Early to Bed, Early to Rise

Sat, 05 Feb 2022 02:30:00 -0600

We went to bed at least two hours early the night before my surgery. My alarm was set for 4:00. Mr. FixIt awoke at three. I didn’t lollygag around and jumped right in the shower. I needed to scrub again with that special antibacterial soap to cut down the risk of infection during surgery. My skin feels like the Sahara Desert but I’m clean as a whistle.

We left at 4:30…plenty of time to navigate the icy, snow packed streets for the five block drive to the hospital. Mr. FixIt dropped me off at the front door of the registration area and headed for the parking garage. Unfortunately, the doors were locked. An employee came along and let me in with him. I walked all around and there was a sign that said the registration area was closed. I couldn’t find anyone to even ask, so I called my sweetie to come back and get me. We were obviously at the wrong spot.

He was already in the parking garage so he swung back around and they let I’m out without paying. He came to get me and dropped me off at the other hospital and headed back to the garage. And….there was no one there, either! I called him back. The guy at the garage must have thought he was crazy. He came and got me and we went back to the first hospital and this time there was a line at the desk ten deep and I was now 10 minutes late!

Someone mentioned if you were there for an early surgery, you needed to go over to a different room. A few of us made our way their, asking “What time is your surgery?” along the way, democratically selecting the priority patient. I won. Within two minutes, I was called with another couple to follow a gentleman to the preop staging area. I was assured someone would bring my husband along as soon as he came in from the parking garage.

I went through the typical rigamarole one is subjected to when prepping for surgery. Lots of questions that you’ve already answered a hundred times. An IV placement by a very skilled IV Nurse along with a blood draw. ECG tabs placed on my chest and a reading taken. Blood pressure taken, pulse counted, blood oxygen measured. Papers signed. Visits by the different departments involved. And finally, the wait for the attending physician to arrive….this time after driving in on bad roads.

I’ve had a lot of surgeries and worked in medicine for a long time. There is something I do every time I’m about to go under the knife. I look around the room and ask in an upbeat voice… “How are we all doing today? Is this a great day, or what!?!” Then I grab the hand of the nearest staff member and say a quick prayer.

“Jesus, be with us today. Thank you for these good people.”

I’ve never had someone take their hand away.

The most lovely young women hovered around my head, smiling behind their masks. One said, “What music would you like to hear?” The first thing that popped in my mind was Enya’s Watermark Album. I listen to that on headphones whenever I’m at the dentist. I have since the ‘90s. She turned it on and set her phone by my head and I listened to the muted tones of Orinoco Flow. My shoulders relaxed as I remembered the days when my baby was tiny and I would dance her around the room, gently swaying and rocking her to sleep. I knew I was going to get to dance yesterday, even if it was just in my mind.

There was something special about the way these women guided me off to sleep. Female voices. Nurturing voices. Hands holding me, paying rapt attention to me as if I were the center of the universe. It was like a lullaby.

“Hear us now.” A plastic mask was placed over my face. “Now…take a couple of deep slow breaths and you’re going to feel sunshine going into your hand.” I smiled at that image. It didn’t burn or sting…it was the pleasant feeling of sunshine on my skin. “Now, you’ll taste the sunshine and we’ll be right here with you.” I tasted the sun on the edge of my tongue and I was totally gone.

What an amazing way to go to sleep. And, you know what? I woke up the very same way…warmed by the sun, the memory of dancing with my baby to the Orinoco Flow still fresh in my memory, even though three-and-a-half hours had passed. It was remarkable. I must write them a note to thank them for their precious way.

Again, there was good news, and uncertain news. This surgeon was also unable to visualize the two parathyroid glands that they couldn’t find in Florida. However, the upper right, which was normal in March of 2020 was now enlarged and putting off too much parathyroid hormone so it was removed. My numbers didn’t go down in the OR like they had hoped. There was a possibility that part of my thyroid would be removed in order to take out any glands trapped inside. The surgeon made a decision to leave the thyroid intact because my vocal cord nerve was enmeshed in it and he didn’t want to risk damaging my voice.

So, here we are….back where we were last March. Hopefully optimistic with eleven months of experience to the otherwise under my belt. Going in a second time is risky. Going in a third time can be outright dangerous. I don’t know if it was the gentle way I was led under sedation or my skill at pragmatism, but I’m ready to move forward into whatever is waiting ahead of me.

God is the ultimate healer, so I’m just going to give this to him every day and ask him to take care of it for me. Sometimes we can’t fix things…we can just carry them. I’m not upset. I’m still hopeful. I trust Jesus to carry this…either away from me, or for me. Either way, I will feel joy!

❄️❤️❄️

“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

Step by Step by Step

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Making Progress on Knitting and Recovery

Tue, 04 Jan 2022 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. FixIt does odd jobs for friends and family from time to time. Yesterday, one of his friends needed a new medicine cabinet installed in his bathroom. It’s an old house and anyone who has worked on old houses can tell you…there are seldom square corners and measurements are somewhat haphazard. Thus was the case on what has turned into a two day job when the new cabinet wouldn’t fit into the old hole. He’ll go back today with the proper tools and make the hole bigger to accommodate the new cabinet.

Having the house to myself yesterday afternoon was rather lovely. The sun was shining and the temperature didn’t get much over freezing. It was the perfect day to do two things. Try on the new cashmere sweater my sweetheart bought me for Christmas…and sit in my recliner and knit. The sweater is a lovely pink…just the perfect shade that you find inside a conch shell. Slightly peachy…so pretty and oh so soft. It feels warm without being bulky and it’s not at all itchy. And it fit perfectly. The sleeves slightly balloon out above snug cuffs and there is a slight stripe created by a K10P2 pattern. Perfect!

The socks are moving along nicely. I created the cup of the heel last night before I put it away to write this. I love the sock yarns that look variegated until you knit them, then it’s apparent the dye was placed strategically to create stripes and patterns in the stitching. This particular sock is called Vanilla, because there’s nothing fancy about it. There is a twenty row K1P1 rib stitch cuff, then everything from there down is essentially a stockinette stitch.

I’m really glad there is a YouTube tutorial for every step of this simple sock design because I’m not only learning how to knit in the round on a single 32” circular needle…I’m also learning a new way to turn a heel and join it. I’m pretty much a self taught knitter, so I am not terribly familiar with all the terms and abbreviations that are in a written pattern. I do have the written pattern for this sock, but I need the tutorial…at least the first time.

My friend Marion’s mom was my seventh grade science teacher. She stood at the front of the class knitting sweaters and never once looked down at her work while she gave lectures. It was phenomenal. I watched her knitting intently because I’d never seen it before. No one in my family knitted, although I did find an old warped pair of knitting needles in my grandma’s cedar chest around the same time I was in Mrs. Corbin’s class. I scrounged up some yellow yarn and tried my hand at knitting. My tension was so tight, I could barely force the needle into the stitches and there were holes in my work. I think I got something that looked vaguely like a potholder and called it good. I never tried to knit again until sometime in the ‘90s. I could crochet with the best of them, but knitting eluded me for the longest time.

I didn’t understand about the different kinds of yarn. I spent months knitting a sweater on needles that were too big and used acrylic yarn that pilled terribly. It was a huge waste of time as far as a sweater goes, but it was a learning experience. Somewhere along the line, I learned how to knit dishcloths and that gave me the confidence to try more difficult things. I made scarves and hats. Then, when Daughter #1 told me she was expecting Big, I was determined to knit her a baby dress.

Being the pragmatist, I found a cute pattern that used brightly colored yarns in nothing but a stockinette stitch. The design was achieved by changing colors. It was fun to see it slowly take shape…the operative word here is “slowly”. I knew I would never get a tiny dress done before the baby came because I was learning as I went. So, I chose a Size 2T and believe it or not…finished the week before Big’s second birthday! Poor Little…she never got the kinds of things Big got because, by that time, I was working sixty hours a week. I’ve tried to make it up to her in other ways.

We have absolutely NOTHING planned this week…no doctor’s appointments. I have no place to be but home. It’s supposed to snow Thursday night. I have a couple of late Christmas presents to get to the Post Office today, then I’m free to knit to my heart’s content. This is the time of year God sets aside for us to recover and rest from the labors of the land and I have every intention of taking advantage of it!

12 So tend to your knitting. You've got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God. 13 Forget about deciding what's right for each other. Here's what you need to be concerned about: that you don't get in the way of someone else, making life more difficult than it already is.
Romans 14:12-13 MSG

An Incredible Day

Fri, 31 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I had one of the most amazing experiences yesterday…and in the days leading up to it. We’ve talked here a lot about anxiety and PTSD. I cannot remember a time since Mr. Virgo died that I didn’t experience incredible, sometimes debilitating anxiety before any medical event. When I was here in the big city to get my 4D CT Scan on October 14th, I spent the night before in the hotel room throwing up from anxiety. This time was completely different.

I started studying some really good devotionals on anxiety and how to get the upper hand and not let it be the boss. I studied sub-personalities and how they affect worry and stress and the combination of the two…anxiety. I’m a firm believer that knowledge is power in that it can alleviate some of the “unknown” in a situation. But, what really made the difference was pulling out the Big Guns.

I prayed. You prayed. Everyone I knew to ask prayed. For success. For peace. For calm up to and through the procedure. I spent two days in my camper, pleading with God to show me how to let go of fear and anxiety and the answer He gave me was so simple. “Give it to me.” So, here’s what I did.

The night before the procedure, I wore my Bluetooth noise cancelling headphones that I wear when I mow. I connected them to my iPad and listened to the soundtrack I always use when I write…a crackling campfire in a thunderstorm. I closed my eyes and let the sound transport me to a beautiful campground in the woods, on top of a mountain. You know how I ask Jesus to go for a walk with me? Well, this time I asked him to go camping with me.

We sat around the campfire…sometimes chatting, sometimes still. Every time I had a thought that might send me down the rabbit hole, I tossed it over to Jesus. He caught it deftly with one hand and tossed it in the fire where we would watch the sudden burst of sparks fly up into the night sky. Then…we’d laugh and laugh at how silly those thoughts were. How insignificant, really…in the grand scheme of things. Because, if you think about it…they are thoughts. Thoughts cannot kill you on their own. This was an incredibly powerful visualization and I felt ZERO anxiety leading up to, and even laying on the table having the procedure.

I was awake…sort of. I knew everything that was going on. I had to be awake enough to follow directions like “Hold your breath” and “Turn your head.” I could feel the catheter in the veins in my chest and neck. Sometimes it tickled. Sometimes it sounded like little bubbles. It was fascinating. They made a small incision in my upper thigh and threaded the catheter through there. Then they threaded it to different veins in my upper chest and neck.

Picture a large creek. Upstream, there are a lot of tributaries. What we want to do is walk up each tributary, throw a line in the water, and see if we can catch a fish. But not just any fish. We want the big kahoona. What the catheter did was stick its nose in the mouth of each “creek” to try to sniff out where the big fish is camping. What the doctor wants to see is a BIG number in one of the tributaries. That indicates there’s a bad gland up that stream. They take an outline of the heart and the twelve veins they took the samples from and write the numbers on the corresponding vein on the drawing. Then, the surgeon can see which vein is dumping buckets of parathyroid hormone. He can follow that vein and, ostensibly, hit the mother lode and get that bad boy out of there!

I cannot make heads nor tails of the numbers, however…I know we are looking for one BIG one. And there was…ONE big one! So, now I’m praying that means they can find the offending gland, take it out, and cure me of this disease that has been robbing so much of my joy the last four years.

The doctor came in after the procedure and remarked how incredibly calm I was. When I saw him in consult…I was a nervous Nelly. I asked him if he wanted to know my secret. He did. So I told him about camping with Jesus. He listened intently. We finished up and as he left the room, he told me what a pleasure it was to work with me and Mr. FixIt. Then, he looked back around and thanked me for telling him about the visualization I used. He said he was going to try it himself. I love that!

You never know whose life you are going to touch and under what circumstance. Just know that I am so incredibly grateful to have yet another opportunity to tell you how Jesus works in my life. He amazes me…every time!

And, here it is…the last day of 2021. Much like the second year after the loss of a loved one, 2021 was harder than 2020. We kinda went into the pandemic thinking we’d knock this out of the park in two or three months…maybe a little more. We couldn’t have believed at the time that it would just get worse…and worse. But there were gems in the flames, as there always are. Science brought us a vaccine and medicines to help. There have been many, many good things that occurred mixed in with the bad. We just have to look for and focus on them. And do our best to ease the burden of the medical community. The gal who checked me in yesterday said she had already had four front desk employees call in sick.

“Omicron is no joke” she said.

Here’s to a Happy, HEALTHY New Year for us all! Might I just caution you to open the door slowly and peak in? Don’t threaten 2022 with a haughty attitude of “Bring it on!” Let’s just tip toe in quietly and try not to wake it up or tick it off too bad…ok? Thanks!

See ya next year!!!

❄️

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”
Mark 11:24 ESV

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

Putting Things into Perspective

Tue, 28 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

When I think of all the things that are going on all over this planet, my problems seem pretty small in comparison. It’s all a matter of perspective.

I come from a long line of “worrywarts”…my mom was the Queen of Worrisome Thoughts. We would accuse her of going to bed at night just to think up stuff to worry about the next day. Ahhh, she taught me well. Unfortunately. Worrying creates physical and emotional symptoms which are included under the blanket term…anxiety. If you are a worrier…just try to stop. I dare ya. Because…you don’t just stop that. Especially when it is a life long, ground in, baseline behavior.

I don’t like being a worrier. I don’t like feeling anxious. So why does my mind keep going back to that place where I think up every bad outcome that can possibly happen? Why do I try to control how things play out because I’m as sure as a gypsy with a crystal ball I know how it’s going to go? Why do I freak out when I’m facing uncertainty? Because. Those are the genes I’ve got and that is the background sound track of my upbringing.

I find it’s worse when I’m isolated…which translates to winter. There aren’t as many social opportunities in the winter. We tend to hibernate and keep to ourselves more in the winter months. Stir in a global pandemic, and my world has collapsed to a handful of people who mean so much to me…and one of them just died. So yeah…it’s been a mite rough of late.

I am bound and determined to get a handle on this because I really don’t want to live out the rest of my days with butterflies in my stomach and sweaty palms every time I’m faced with uncertainty. Life is, by very definition…uncertain. These times are uncertain. The world is uncertain. When Mr. Virgo had his heart attack, his death…and the disturbing images of the rescue efforts in the ER…left me traumatized. PTSD is tricky. It has a hair trigger and certain situations set me into a tailspin.

When Mr. FixIt had two small strokes within a few weeks of each other, it left both of us feeling like we were living under Damocles Sword. We were just waiting for the string to break and our world would come crashing down around us…all while navigating the pandemic and political upheaval. As time has gone by, we are feeling more and more confident there isn’t an impending catastrophic event about to occur at any moment. I don’t hover over him every second and watch his every move anymore. But still, when I get isolated, I find it more difficult getting back out there in the world.

When I was going through a particularly dark and difficult time at the end of my second marriage, I was in therapy and it really helped me find my voice. After Mr. Virgo died, I went to grief counseling and had EMDR treatments for PTSD and that really helped. That therapy gave me tools to use to help me find my way through the dark times. Sometimes we get stuck in a rut and we forget to open the toolbox and find what we know is there. Sometimes it gets just too easy to sit and rock and worry.

Technology has come a long way since those dark days of my new millennium. I was reading an article yesterday about mental health advancements and ways you can help yourself through these trying times. They suggested an app called Mindshift. You download it and it asks you questions and gives suggestions of tools to help you feel better through CBT…Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. There is a journal area and a place to set and track goals. There are Care Cards which give you thought points to help you through anxiety symptoms. There is even a section with guided meditations. Of course, it is not meant to treat or diagnose psychiatric conditions. The app has links to find immediate support should you need it.

My relationship with God is where I turn and hand over all my problems. But God also created doctors and medical professionals and techniques to help you when you struggle. I don’t know anyone who has not been changed by the events of the last two years and I know for a fact that I am not standing alone today in my feelings of loss and confusion with the state of the world. I’m all about finding the light…looking for the goodness…and using the tools I need to feel better, more stable, stronger, and less worry-filled than I have been the last couple of weeks.

I’ve decided my new word for the coming year will be “Wellness” and all that it entails…physically, mentally, and emotionally. I’m starting with baby steps…working with the Mindshift app, cutting back on sugar and processed foods, drinking more water, getting out every day for a walk and looking for healthy ways to make myself feel better. I’ve really missed camping. It’s always something that lifts my spirits. So, yesterday afternoon I packed a little overnight bag, kissed my sweetheart, and headed out to the Big Birdhouse in the field. It was well in the 60’s outside and it felt great. I set up the bed with the new twin-sized electric blanket we bought earlier in the day. And I camped out in the camper all night…on December 27th in West Virginia! How about that??? There was rain on the roof and everything!

Edit: I got a call at 11:30pm saying our powers would be out sometime between 12:30 and 3:30am for an emergency repair. The overnight low was in the mid-40’s so I came inside at midnight, but it was a great break…just what I needed!

I can feel life flowing back into my spirit with every word I write!

❄️

“Seek the Lord and his strength; seek his presence continually!”
1 Chronicles 16:11 ESV

Joy to the World!

Sat, 25 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

My day didn’t start out as I’d hoped for Christmas Eve. I didn’t sleep well and ended up moving to the guest room so I didn’t keep Mr. FixIt awake all night, too. No need for both of us to be sleep deprived. I laid there awake for hours and…when I’m awake, the motor’s running. My brain, to be exact. When I finally would drift off to sleep, I had nightmares that superimposed Mr. Virgo’s death and Mr. FixIt. I awoke in a sweat each time only to drift off again and take up where I left off. I finally woke up for good around 10:00 and felt lousy. The last thing I wanted to do was cook scallops and lamb chops. I asked my sweetheart if he would mind holding off the celebratory Christmas Dinner till tomorrow. My husband, being the most wonderful man on the planet, rolled with the punches and was fine with that. He is so flexible and patient with me. This is the nature of PTSD and grief. Some days are good…some aren’t. Yesterday didn’t start out good.

However…I was bound and determined I was going to lift up out of that blue funk and still enjoy the day, even if it entailed a lot of self care. I looked at the Weather App and it was closing in on 60 degrees by 1:00 here in our little neck of the woods. West Virginia had a rare White Christmas last year. So, of course…it will be springlike with rain this year! I walked into the family room and told Mr. FixIt I had a plan. I was going to go out to the camper and hang out for a little quiet time and recharge.

I was amazed at the number of dead flies and ladybugs in there! It’s the country, and campers aren’t airtight. I took the Dustbuster out and swept up and cleaned out the refrigerator and cabinets of any food items. I should have done that a couple months ago, but just didn’t get around to it. Once the place was clean, I climbed in my bed, pulled a pile of covers over me and sunk down in…breathing a sigh of relief.

I love camper time. I especially needed it yesterday and it was like medicine. I curled up and read and just soaked in all that camper goodness. It’s like the playhouse I never had as a kid. The treehouse. The blanket fort. It’s small and cozy and smells like the woods. It soothes me. I drank bottles of water and felt so much better in a couple of hours. I went back inside and greeted my sweetheart. I sat down to knit. He puttered outside for a bit then made a batch of Peanut Butter Blossoms.

The house soon smelled like peanut butter and chocolate. Another area of lights burned out on the tree. There’s only a couple small gifts under it. My cousin and aunt called me from Nevada to wish us a Merry Christmas. I had video chats with the Colorado families. I ate a little. And before I knew it…I felt so much better…so much lighter. As I talked with Daughter #2, she asked how I was holding up. I was honest and told her everything. Then I apologized and said I’d be better soon. She motioned me to come closer to the camera.

“You are grieving. It’s ok to feel all the feels. Sadness, anger, anxiety…all of it. Do not apologize for feeling your feelings.” She’s right, of course. Smart girl. It’s a little harder to practice what you preach sometimes, isn’t it? At any rate, I felt so much better after connecting with my people. Today is a new day. It might be good. It might not. But it’s a day, and it’s what we got, and I know I can close my eyes at any moment and ask Jesus to come walk with me awhile. To lift me up and make me stronger to do the things that need to be done. It’s His Birthday today, and I can’t think of a better way to spend it than quietly. Paring everything back to the basics has been so healing this year. And, isn’t that’s what it’s all about?

Just…love.

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”
Luke 2:11 ESV

Soft Memories, Hard Memories

Sun, 12 Dec 2021 02:30:00 -0600

There are so many good memories wrapped up in this Holiday Season. Memories of Christmases past can bring us so much joy and peace. Unfortunately, these times can also bring us hard, painful memories. Hurtful things may have happened to us as children and the holidays can trigger that. And, some of us are experiencing our first or second holiday without our person and we find little joy in the twinkling lights and merriment invading the sturdily erected walls we’ve placed around our hearts.

I remember well that first holiday after Mr. Virgo died. All I wanted to do was draw up in a ball in my bed and stay there till spring. I know I went to Denver to be with my kids that Christmas, but I have no memory of it. I do remember an amazing visit with Santa and sharing my broken heart with him. I had such hopes that the second Christmas would be better, but things fell apart with my elderly aunt at the farm and I had to change directions yet again. The third Christmas was easier, and subsequent holidays easier still.

That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten Mr. Virgo, or that I don’t think of him…especially at holiday time. It’s really hard to explain the changes my new love has brought me. There has been great healing in my heart. Mr. FixIt is such a great husband and my best friend. And still, there is a place in my heart where Mr. Virgo lives. It takes a very strong man to marry a widow, just like it takes a very strong person to marry someone who’s been divorced. There are wounds there. And scars. We wrap our wounds together and hold each other close and in time, things mend and stitch together. But, there will forever be a scar there. Grief is the price we pay for love.

I attended an 80th birthday celebration yesterday for one of my mom’s cousins. I gifted Sue one of the memory books of the farm that I wrote this fall. I gave it to her when I arrived, then told her I knew she would be busy greeting all her guests, so I was going to borrow the book and return it before I left. I walked around and shared it with several family members and It was a lot of fun. Those are the soft memories that bring us warmth and joy. We talked about the summers picking strawberries. There were pictures in there some hadn’t seen. I’ve also done a great deal of work on the family tree. I showed them photos of their great-great grandparents and shared some of the stories I know. I’m sensing another book needs to be written…The Farm, Part 2.

I had coffee with some of my classmates yesterday morning which was lovely. I spent the majority of the day chasing down some last minute Christmas gifts. I’m almost finished with the shopping then we can wrap and deliver. For several reasons, we won’t be having a great big family gathering this year. But we’ll have smaller groups and still make warm memories together.

I think the biggest gift I’m giving myself and Mr. FixIt is as stress free a holiday as I can this year. We have a lot going on in the next few weeks, so “easy does it” is the name of the game. Mr. FixIt baked his FAMOUS peanut butter cookies with the kisses on top yesterday. I had hoped all the baking would be done by now, but I’m afraid not. He did get the new angel on top of the tree yesterday. Maybe I’ll get some baking done today and watch some Christmas movies. That sounds peaceful to me.

❄️

“remember the former things of old….”
Isaiah 46:9 ESV

The Coffee Divas and the DMV

Sat, 13 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

We had errands to run yesterday. Quite often, Mr. FixIt and I are in the minority when it comes to mask wearing in our little corner of West Virginia. We went in the garage to pick up my truck. No one was wearing a mask. We went into the bank to put our change in the cash machine. No one in the bank was wearing a mask. We went in separate directions from there and I headed to the DMV. I was one of four people wearing masks. FOUR! The place was busy but we were able to maintain some social distance.

People often look at us funny for wearing masks. Sometimes they even say something designed to make us feel stupid for being concerned. “You’re still WEARING those? I haven’t worn one for ages!” My answer is always the same. “Yes. We are still wearing them. It has been great to not even have so much as a sniffle.” What’s more, if they came out tomorrow and said, “The pandemic is over…you can go without masks everywhere” we’d still wear them in crowded areas. Especially during cold and flu season.

The DMV was disappointing…again. The Bill of Sale we got when we bought the new camper didn’t have the VIN number of our trade in. And without that, I cannot get credit for having already paid taxes on it. Now we have to get a new Bill of Sale and make another trip to the DMV. It’s always something, isn’t it? I stopped at Walmart and had my tires rotated. You know…those little jobs that you just have to stay up on. Some days I’m just not into “adulting”.

Today is going to be MUCH more fun, though. It’s the first time since July that the girls from our high school class are gathering for coffee. I’ve really missed them! It’s going to get cold again today with a high of 44. It’s sweater and leggings weather and I really love that! As I drove home from town yesterday, the sun was inching closer to the western horizon and the light has that magical golden quality that I love. The trees have taken on deeper, richer colors now. There are shades of honey and butterscotch, burgundy and bronze, and a rich brown like the supple leather of a fine quality men’s bomber jacket.

After so much rain Thursday night, I would have sworn the leaves would all be gone by morning. Instead…it was breathtaking. We are trying to decide if we are having a Thanksgiving Dinner at our house this year or not. We had one Thursday night. My bonus daughter is having one next Saturday. How many do we need? Besides…I’d love to go see my uncle and cousins for Thanksgiving. I’ll need to make my mind up pretty soon, I suppose.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy what’s left of the autumn colors and visit with my cohort of “coffee divas”! What are you all up to this weekend???

““I command these things to you, that you may love one another.”
John 15:17 WEB

A Letter to a Friend

Sun, 07 Nov 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Dr. Sue and Me in Deadwood, SD

Just a few weeks after Mr. Virgo died, I took off in my first little camper…all by myself…for the adventure of a lifetime. There aren’t very many moments in time that you can just…leave. And that’s exactly what I did. I had no idea where I was going except a general direction and people I definitely wanted to spend a little time with. I didn’t have reservations ahead of time. I just flew by the seat of my pants and set out to heal my grief…one campfire at a time.

This was when I started writing this blog. I was so inspired by other women camping by themselves and in groups…pulling their cute little campers all on their own. I made fast friends of these gals and they all still mean the world to me. In the fall of 2013, the Sisters on the Fly were meeting for one of their large regional gatherings in Estes Park, Colorado…right in my backyard, so to speak. I couldn’t wait to join them and meet like minded women…and learn as much as I could from them.

One woman in particular really stood out to me. Dr. Sue Clifton came all the way from Mississippi hauling her little vintage tin can named “Spam I Am”. Sue brought the most divine Coconut Cake from Sugaree’s Bakery in Albany, Mississippi. Land’s sakes…I honestly thought I’d died and gone to Heaven. It was the BEST cake I think I’ve ever had.

Sugaree’s Bakery makes the BEST Coconut Cake on the planet!

Dr. Sue and I sat and talked the first evening at the “come and get to know your new friends” gathering. I asked her about herself. She had her PhD in Education and was a retired English teacher turned Principal. Her sweet hubby Woody was actually working in my home state at the time…putting in some sort of huge pieces of equipment in power plants, I think. They had a second home in Montana where they fly fished at every opportunity.

When Dr. Sue asked about me, I told her the story about losing Mr. Virgo so soon after finding him. I told her about the day we were standing in a camper, picking out the one we wanted for retirement, when he had a sudden heart attack and was gone within two or three hours. You could hear the pain in my voice…see it in my eyes. As I told her my story, tears quietly slid down her cheeks and she hugged me close. We had an instant bond and even though we’ve only camped together a couple of times, we stay in touch regularly.

Eight months ago, Dr. Sue’s beloved cowboy…her Woody…died after a struggle with glioblastoma. Brain Cancer. She was incredibly brave. She took care of her sweetheart with a tender heart and a fierce faith. They had a good couple of years…much longer than the doctors told them they’d have. They communed and fell in love all over again and she walked him home. What greater gift can one give to another but a peaceful transition?

And now…here she is, still so fresh in her grief. She posted on Facebook yesterday, quoting an article on Complicated, Prolonged Grief. Bless her heart…at just eight months. I reached out and posted a response. I could have sent it privately, but as is my wont…every moment is a teaching moment. So I’ve decided to share my advice here as well. Because I know someone needs to hear this today and it’s been a while since we delved into grief. I won’t share her post, but here is my comment:

“Sweetheart, I’m going to jump in here and sit with you a minute, ok? I haven’t read any of the other responses…I never do that. Because, if it’s what I was going to say, I feel stupid saying the same dang thing ten other folks already said. And, if it’s the OTHERS saying something that can come across as hurtful or unhelpful, I don’t want to get ticked off, capisce?

First, please be gentle with your sweet and battered self. It feels to me you are trying to find a timeline with which to compare your “progress” on this grief journey. Please don’t do that. I did it, we probably all did it, but it isn’t helpful because, in the end, grief is just…grief. One cannot compare one’s grief to another’s. It’s as individual as a fingerprint. And…pay close attention to this one…YOUR grief is the WORST grief in the world because it’s YOURS. This is a really hard and shitty thing to go through.

I understand you wanting to protect others from your pain. I tried that, too. I made it to month nine when I cried uncle and went to see a grief counselor. I was suffering PTSD from watching the unsuccessful CPR. My guess is, you are suffering the same thing from being a primary caregiver and watching your most beloved person die. How could you NOT have PTSD?

Here is my suggestion…find a therapist who is trained in EMDR…Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It is THE treatment for PTSD and it honestly saved me from skidding off the ledge. Eat well, rest, drink plenty of water, avoid drugs and alcohol, and get out for a walk every day. Say no unapologetically if you need to. Do one thing every day that scares you or makes you feel uncomfortable. Desensitization will take you far on this path. Write down the names and numbers of people who say…call me anytime. They are worth their weight in gold. CALL THEM when you are hurting. If they are any kind of true friend, they will do what my friend Deb did and listen to my wails, throwing in the occasional commiseration like, “I know, sweetheart…I know.”

You fly fish. Have you ever tried to stand in the middle of a roaring river, facing upstream, and try to hold it back with your hands? It doesn’t work, does it? It’s the same way with grief. Turn around and look downstream. That’s the direction you’re heading anyway. Lean back into the water like you’re sitting in a lounge chair with your feet in front of you and see where the water takes you. I guarantee you there are going to be rapids ahead that are going to threaten to drown you. But, look at you! You have survived through 100% of the really hard days you have gone through so far.

I know it is so hard to believe this, but there are calmer waters up ahead. Just keep going. And remember…there is only one way to get through grief….and, that’s to grieve. Don’t put a label on it. Six months? I call BS, Pauline. Whoever wrote that article you read hasn’t tied your shoes…so they don’t get to tell you how to wear them, lovie. My heart is with you. ?”

Grief is so hard and it gets harder before it eases up. You never “get over it” but you can “get through it”. It takes a lot of tears and strength and courage and…for me…faith in a God far bigger than me that could carry me though it all. I promised God if he would bring me the words, and the people to read them, I would continue to tell people where I find my strength.

I could never have done this without Jesus to walk with me and hold my heart in His hands.

“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.”
Proverbs 3:5-6 ESV

Paying My Respects

Sat, 09 Oct 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I am so blessed to have so many wonderful, loving friends who would do anything for me. My besty Gail needed me yesterday. Remember in Sunday’s Prayer Circle I asked specifically for prayers for her stepson who was in critical condition in ICU? Well, sadly…he lost his struggle this week, surrounded by loving family. He was only 32. So, when I woke up yesterday morning, I asked Mr. FixIt if he wanted to ride up to Beaver Falls, PA with me because I needed to go be with my girl.

My sweetheart has been struggling this week with painful hips from bowling, so he elected not to go with me on this jaunt. Instead, he stayed home and did the laundry and rested. I literally drove four hours up, sat with Gail for an hour at the funeral home, and drove four hours home. I passed the time on the drive talking with friends and family. I mastered hands free voice texts with Little. And I did a lot of thinking. Driving is my best think time…I can solve ALL the problems in a good day’s drive.

The colors were lovely. Not peak, but still quite nice. I drove up via the interstate with a cut across Cadiz Road. Now, that area of the country is beautiful. Lots of barns and farms and hills with winding roads. I passed through bucolic little towns with their manicured lawns and gardens and white picket fences. Farm stands overflowing with apples and pumpkins and Indian corn stood watch, their honor system buckets weighted down with a good sized rock to keep the money from blowing away. I love Eastern Ohio. It has the rolling hills and green grass of West Virginia with straighter roads and bigger skies, like parts of Colorado.

All this driving made for a crazy week. When I pack so much stuff into a short amount of time, I have a hard time remembering what all I did. I’m whupped, but I am so glad I went to support Gail. When I arrived at the funeral home, I signed the guest register and looked up to see Gail trying to figure out who the woman in the black dress was. When I saw her eyes register that it was me, she crumpled and hurried over to me, throwing her arms around my neck and sobbing. I held her tight and let her cry. This is the woman who holds it all together and does for everybody else, asking for very little for herself. She needed me, and I was so glad I could be there for her.

There was a time, not so long ago, when going there would have been unthinkable. My own trauma and grief surrounding the loss of Mr. Virgo caused me to go into panic mode if I got anywhere near a funeral home. Not long after I moved to WV, a high school friend lost her son in a tragic accident. I went to the funeral home and stood with one of my other besties…Diane. She took one look at my face as I stood there like a deer in the headlights, my fight or flight response getting ready to kick into overdrive at any second. She grabbed my arm and fairly pulled me out of there. As soon as the fresh air hit my face, I realized I was barely breathing.

Grief is tricky and so hard to navigate. Time has eased so many of the wounds and that allows me to be more emotionally accessible for others. When I mentor others walking through the same path, I make sure they understand they are not alone, they are not crazy, and the things they go through…no matter how painful…will eventually become easier to bear. Life will never ever be the same as it was before losing Mr. Virgo…but I sure am glad I can give more of myself now to those who are hurting.

My prayers are always with the bereaved. May they find some comfort …“in the arms of an angel”.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 ESV

God Rescued Me From the Waves

Sat, 25 Sep 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Six years ago this week, I went to the beach with a girlfriend. I pulled the big camper and we camped at Myrtle Beach. I’d never been there before and was so excited. We were hit with a huge rainstorm on the way down, and by the time I’d unhitched the camper and got it set up…the real rain began. We had inadvertently set up camp during the tail end of a hurricane.

It rained for a week straight with only the slightest break to get outside for a few minutes before it began again. The total rainfall that week was something like 24”! The lower campground flooded. A lot of people pulled out and went home. Not us. We were determined to see this through to the bitter end. The friends we met down there went home when their week was up. I asked the friend staying with me if she had anything pressing to get home to and she said no. So we signed up for another four or five days. The weather was gorgeous and the week ended on a sunnier note.

When I was browsing through photos the other day, I came across this one taken during that camping trip. It was high tide, the storm was churning off shore, and the waves were really strong. I was two years a widow and I think I still had a bit of a death wish going on. I honestly thought losing Mr. Virgo would kill me, so what difference did it make if it was the waves of grief or the waves of an angry sea?

There have been so many moments in my life that were just like standing in that roaring surf…the earth threatening to give way beneath me and send me crashing to a grisly death. The shock and betrayal of childhood sexual abuse. The pain of an unwanted divorce. The alienation of my family. The sudden loss of Mr. Virgo relatively soon after we got married. Yet…I have survived 100% of the time.

When I look at this picture, I see a woman who really didn’t have a grasp of the great danger she was in. At the same time, I see a woman who stepped WAY out of her comfort zone in order to see her own strength. Face it…I wasn’t wrapped too tight right then. But, it made a good picture and a story about living life a little on the edge.

Life was numb the first year. Life was so much harder the second year because he was really GONE and I knew it in my bones. This picture was taken at the beginning of the third year…the year of self-expression. The year of personal growth. The year of conversations with God. The year I realized He had rescued me from the waves.

As I sat around the campfire last night, I thought of this picture and smiled at the beautiful, adventurous, and brave women sitting with me. Each has had their own struggles…their own fight with the waves. And each has been lifted and carried by a loving Father when times got tough.

I love these women.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”
John 15:12 ESV

Unexpected Joy… Unexpected Pain

Fri, 27 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I Broke the Mower!

We awoke to partly cloudy skies yesterday with a forecast of “slightly cooler” than it’s been. While we were having breakfast, I asked Mr. FixIt if he thought we should go out to the farm and mow. We had to take his truck because the camper is still hooked up to mine. The AC isn’t working in his truck so we drove through the countryside with the windows down and the air felt so good.

It’s apparent the seasons are about to change here in West Virginia. We may not get the beautiful leaf colors we usually have because we had such a long dry spell for much of the last month. The leaves will probably turn brown and fall off fairly quickly. Unlike the year I pulled the Girl Camper Raffle Trailer around the state of West Virginia all of October 2019. The colors were spectacular that year.

I’ve been looking at some of the beautiful pictures I’ve taken since Mr. Virgo died. I am moving photos from my phone to a flash drive and then transferring them to my computer. There are some 35,000 photos on my phone. Do I need all of them? Heck no. But just like going through a hoarder’s house, I have to go through each photo and delete the ones I don’t want and save the ones I do. (You think that’s bad...I have 42,643 emails in my inbox!) I just don’t stay on top of that stuff. However, seeing the photos of some of my solo travels as my grief began to ease filled me with a sense of unexpected pride and joy.

Back to the farm…I got the mower out of the barn and stopped in back of the house to check the oil. It’s been dripping oil and I wanted to make sure there was plenty. I lifted the engine cover and suddenly I heard a crack. I looked down in time to see one of the hinges broke completely off one side of the hood. Before I could reach and grab it, the other hinge broke from the added weight and the whole hood fell off on the ground in front of the tractor.

We just stood there dumbfounded, looking at each other. Dang. I picked up the hood and put it on the back porch. The tractor runs and mows just fine without the hood, but now it isn’t as pretty as it was before. On the plus side, the oil level was fine and I quickly had the whole place mowed while Mr. FixIt worked on the trimming.

I went inside and sat down for a moment to reflect. As I told you on Wednesday, yesterday would have been my mom’s 96th birthday. What I hadn’t remembered was…50 years ago yesterday, my PopPop died unexpectedly on my mom’s birthday. I sat in the chair in the dining room, remembering my grandma telling me how he didn’t feel well that day, but he didn’t want to go to the hospital…because it was my mom’s special day.

Losing my PopPop was my first brush with death. Grandma had asked him that day if he’d eat some corn if she heated it up. He said yes, so she went out to the cellar house to get a jar and by the time she got back inside…he was gone. She had my uncle carry him out to the car, and she drove like a maniac to town through those winding West Virginia roads I know like the back of my hand. She stopped at the State Police Barracks just at the edge of town and they led her through traffic with their sirens wailing to get him to the hospital as soon as possible…though even they knew it was too late.

Grandma was only 64…PopPop was 72. I sat there in the same room where she found him, thinking of her with a renewed sense of empathy for her pain. He died just three months before their 50th Anniversary. They’d been married since she was 15. He was all she’d known. I thought my pain was bad. I cannot imagine hers. They lost a beloved son in a plane crash a couple of years after I was born. She lost her beloved husband just before a milestone event in their lives. She went on to live another 29 years without him.

I shook myself from my reverie and gathered up my things to head home. I put the mower away and locked everything up. We loaded the push mower in the truck and headed to town to pick up some prescriptions. And here we are…at that age where it feels like we are either at the doctor or filling a prescription every time we turn around. I tweaked something in my hip the other night stepping into the pool. The simplest of things can bring the sharpest of pains…physical and emotional. Ice and NSAIDs are my friend right now because we are preparing for a very LONG road trip. I can’t get knocked down. I don’t have time.

At least all we have to do is put a few things in the truck and we’re about ready.

“‘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

#Memories, #Grief, #Healing, #Joy

Bluebirds and Grief and Healing

Wed, 04 Aug 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I saw a story on the news shortly after Mr. FixIt and I got married. It was about a man on a mission. He had lost his wife and consequently, his sense of purpose. She loved her garden and the beautiful birds that gathered there. Especially bluebirds. That struck a chord with me because Mr. Virgo has always sent me bluebirds to comfort me since he died. Ron Rudolph paid homage to his wife’s memory by building bluebird houses.

You can read all about his story on my previous post HERE.

Since this story went viral, Mr. Rudolph needed to add helpers to fill all the order for his bluebird houses and kits to make your own. And now, his daughter has written a children’s book to help young people learn to cope with grief. I received a message from the author, Kristy Boike asking if I would share the website for “Rise Up, Little Bluebirds” and…of course…I told her I was more than happy to do that. (Isn’t it interesting that I chose the name for the new camper… “The Birdhouse”…or “Birdie” for short…just before I read Kristy’s message? There are no such things as coincidences!)

It just so happens, we went to the farm yesterday to mow. While we were camping, Gail shared a new app with me from The Cornell Lab called “Merlin” which helps to identify birds by description, photo, or sound. I played with it at the farm and, since the birds are not sitting on the nest at this time of year, I called in several species…one of which was the Eastern Bluebird. Two pairs came and sat on the telephone wire close to the house and listened…tipping their heads this way and that…trying to figure out why this human sounded just like one of them. It was great fun!

So, without further ado…please go check out this precious book and buy one (or more!) for any littles in your life who are going through a hard time with grief and loss.

“Rise Up, Little Bluebirds” Written by Kristy Boike, Illustrated by Kathryn Inkson

“For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.”
2 Peter 1:21 ESV

A Great Day for Working Outdoors!

Thu, 17 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Our son-in-law showing off a turn-of-the-century bathtub!

Yesterday was clear and bright and sunny. While it was hot in the direct sun, there was a lovely breeze and the temperature stayed comfortably in the mid 70’s. Our WV son-in-law came and helped Mr. FixIt with some long overdue work around the house. Land’s sake…they pushed and pushed and I couldn’t believe how nice it all looked when it was done.

They moved two of the campers and mowed under them. They ran the weed eater all around the yard. Our son-in-law climbed the old TV antenna and tore out the vines and cut off the very top part. They need more muscle to take the whole thing down. They went down to the creek and dug out the last few feet of the ditch that filled in with mud and debris from the flash flood earlier this week. They took the disk grinder and cut the old rusty swing set apart and got it out of there. Then they shoveled up and hauled about ten bags of sand and moved it to fill low spots in the yard.

My bonus daughter got in the pool and swept it really well. I cut up, blanched, and dehydrated a big bag of Vidalia onions, made an apple pie, grilled hot dogs for lunch and cleaned the kitchen. The house and yard are looking so nice. I still have to finish the guest bedroom. I’ve ordered fresh linens for the beds for the girls so they’ll be really comfortable while they’re here.

I love when we have the opportunity to sit around the table and talk about things. Yesterday’s topic was timely…anxiety and faith. We all have a certain level of anxiety or worry or fear. Or, more accurately…we are humans, so we are certainly prone to that. That’s why God tells us over and over and over to not be afraid…to trust in him to be there with us through our trials…to hand over the hard stuff and let him carry it. I love when you can quote scripture to back up your point. That conversation was validation as to how God works in our lives when we ask Him in.

The other day, I was feeling worried and anxious about something that hadn’t even happened yet, and likely wouldn’t happen in the way I feared. I took the advice of the author of a devotional I was reading at the time. “Stop. Just stop right now and walk away to a quiet place and talk to God.” That’s what I did. I went out to TOW-Wanda, turned on the AC, stretched out on the bed and tucked my favorite fuzzy blanket up under my chin.

Now…what was it she said to do? Ah, yes…praise God for everything He does for me. I started with that favorite blanket.

“Thank you, God…for this comforting blanket.”

“Thank you, God…for this soft pillow to rest my head.”

“Thank you, God…for this safe space I can retreat to when I need to be alone with You.”

“Thank you, God…for the soft breeze blowing and rocking the camper so gently.”

“Thank you, God…for this wonderful husband you’ve brought me to partner my life with.”

On and on…and after every “Thank you, God…” my anxiety and worry retreated farther and farther from me. And yesterday…I got to start that testimony with the kids and reinforce their faith…as well as my own. God doesn’t want us to live in a state of perpetual fear and stress. And these are certainly stressful times. God did not give us a spirit of fear, so if you are experiencing fear, worry, and anxiety…it is not coming from God. I cannot tell you how many times I have spoken aloud and told the enemy to get away from me…he has no dominion here. God knows our every thought. The enemy would like you to think he does, too…but he doesn’t. He cannot read your mind. So you have to speak aloud to him to make him go away. It’s really as easy as that.

So, it was a good day…all the way around. More things accomplished. More jobs completed. More stories told. There is nothing more beautiful than family and faith.

And…apple pie!

“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands, for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
2 Timothy 1:6-7 ESV

The Year That Time Stood Still

Thu, 10 Jun 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Sometimes, when life gives you hard things, you put your head down and keep pushing forward in order to survive. Even now, you take stock of all that’s happening around you, it’s easy to feel WAY out of control. And there’s nothing worse than that runaway train feeling. You can’t defend yourself from an enemy you cannot see. It’s downright scary.

When Mr. FixIt had his first stroke in February 2020, we sat together in his room and watched the news. They were talking about a disease that seemed to be spreading overseas and could very well come to the United States. We were already dealing with one emergency with uncertain consequences. Now they’re talking about a pandemic, too? We were too numb to really “get it”.

We went home and started the healing process. Then, six weeks later, there was a stroke on the other side AND we were in a full-blown pandemic. We were beyond numb. We were obviously extremely grateful the strokes weren’t any worse. We knew they certainly could have been. But we didn’t know if there would be a third on the horizon. And, would it be “the big one”. These were things we definitely didn’t talk about...but we both worried about, nonetheless.

Our lives became centered around physical therapy, follow up medical visits, and endless television coverage. Not only the pandemic, but now the election. We were so overwhelmed, we didn’t know what to think. We just did the best we could and put one foot in front of the other.

This year is different. We survived the election. We survived the worst of the pandemic. We got vaccinated. And we got through the year that time stood still. Hindsight is 20/20, and Mr. FixIt and I have frequent conversations...processing what we went through in the last year and how we handled it. Sometimes you don’t know how bad things were till you get past them and look back. We were pretty much a hot mess last year. This year is much, much better.

Mr. FixIt has his strength back. We are getting life back to normal here at Marshmallow Ranch. We are picking up the pieces of the last year and working on the projects we were right in the middle of when the first stroke hit. It is so stressful to feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, with a little time and distance, and good medications, and the reassurance of our physicians...we’re beginning to trust that we’re ok and and we can move forward and continue this beautiful life we’ve been building.

We are filled with love and gratitude...hope and faith.

We can breathe again.

“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

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

A Day of Peace

Mon, 24 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

After an entire week of angst and anxiety, I sat with my bible study on “Overcoming Anxiety” and let it go...again. How many times do we have to let it go?? As many times as it takes. I’m pretty well convinced it’s not the last time, but the peace I felt yesterday was complete and it gave me such an incredible sense of relief.

We got up early yesterday. We still aren’t attending church outside the home. We will go again...when we’re ready. My church yesterday was found at the farm. The grass isn’t growing terribly fast right now because we haven’t had any rain. But it was still time to mow out there, and I really don’t want the new people to take possession and have to get the baler out. So, we loaded the mowers up on the utility trailer and headed for the country.

I knew there was food out there, so we elected to have breakfast once we arrived. We had eggs and fried cornmeal mush with syrup and sat on the front porch to marvel at God’s precious handiwork. Once we finished and the dishes were washed, I hopped on the riding mower while Mr. FixIt took the push mower around the edges and the ditch out front. My step-son called to say they were coming for a visit, so as soon as the mowing was done, we loaded back up and headed home.

They had some work to do first, so I took the riding mower right off the trailer and mowed the Ponderosa. I just was finished when the kids showed up with pizza. We sat out on the deck by the pool and ate. They hadn’t seen the new carpeting yet so we went inside and talked while the guys re-hung the door Mr. FixIt painted. We had a lovely day with family and friends through texts and visits and phone calls.

I felt so good. I know to give things to God. I KNOW. But my mind gets carried away and before I know it, I’m down a rabbit hole and we’re off to the races. The good thing is, yesterday was so blessedly peaceful that it was a tangible reminder of the peace that comes with letting go and letting God do the heavy lifting. We weren’t meant to do the heavy lifting. That’s HIS job....if only we hand over the load. I’m grateful for the sense of calm I experienced...all day long.

“Don't worry about anything, but pray about everything. With thankful hearts offer up your prayers and requests to God. Then, because you belong to Christ Jesus, God will bless you with peace that no one can completely understand. And this peace will control the way you think and feel.”
Philippians 4:6-7 CEV

“Joy” is Home

Sun, 09 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Back in 2017, when Mr. FixIt and I were a new item in the dating scene, he called me on a drizzly afternoon.

“Hey...I was driving home and saw a beautiful two seater Mercedes!”

Oh, no. That was Mr. Virgo’s dream car. Was I going to get to enjoy it instead?

“Really? Are you interested in getting something like that? Let me tell you...I had a Mercedes once. They are NOT cheap to take care of!”

“Well...why don’t you come with me to look at it.”

I agreed and the next afternoon, we drove by to see. We sat in the truck looking at that gorgeous silver bullet and he didn’t make a move to get out. He didn’t say a word. He just looked at me and smiled.

“What?” I laughed.

“I’m sure you would be much more interested in what’s under the carport than in the little sports car.”

My eye followed his gaze and there she was! A black and white, 1967 Franklin travel trailer. The Franklin Coach Company was founded in 1945 and was instrumental in creating the Recreational Vehicle Industry Association (RVIA) and is the longest running, continuous ownership in the industry.

I squealed and clapped my hands and jumped out of the truck. A man came out of the house and walked toward us.

“Hey, there! You all interested in the Mercedes? I just put her out yesterday. I’m buying a Corvette so I need to get rid of this baby first.”

I smiled and said, “No. I’m more interested in that little camper. Is she for sale?”

The camper was actually his 16-year-old daughter’s. Her best friend had fixed up a camper, so she wanted to do one, too. But, as with many things teenage girls do, it stopped being fun when it became work. I get that. But, I’d been wanting a vintage camper and I thought maybe this one would be mine.

We talked back and forth and his daughter was willing to part with it, so I dubbed her “Joy” and took her out to the farm. And, as with many things ADULT girls do, life got really busy and she sat at the farm all this time...covered up and waiting for me. I kept her out there mainly because I wanted to give the appearance that someone was living there. Now that the farm will be sold soon, it was time to bring “Joy” home to the Ponderosa.

I still have dreams of fixing her up. I’m far more likely to do so if she’s close at hand. Even if I don’t, she’s mine.

I’m back out at the farm after spending a day at the Ponderosa. Today is Mother’s Day, and...as much as I love my step-children and they love me, this is their mom’s day...not mine. I’ll get phone calls and that will be lovely. I told Mr. FixIt we would celebrate when this work is all finished at the farm. I remember Mother’s Days when the kids were growing up. There were so many times when I just wanted a few hours to myself to take an uninterrupted bubble bath and a nap. Now, I wish I could be with them. Daughter #1 will be here in June, so I’ll have my Mother’s Day then. And I’ll see Daughter #2 in September.

I hope you have a good day today...you are loved.

““Honor your father and mother” (this is the first commandment with a promise),”
Ephesians 6:2 ESV

I Do My Best Thinking When I Drive

Thu, 08 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Sitting on the deck with the propane heater to keep warm!

Ok, so it was the riding mower...but that still counts, right? We are expecting rain today, so Mr. FixIt said we’d better get the lawn mowed beforehand or it’ll be out of control by next week. Since he was busy working on trimming the outside wall we just painted, and...since I’M the one that loves the riding mower, I quickly volunteered.

It was partly cloudy so it wasn’t very hot the first half, but then the sun came out full force and I retrieved my “mowing umbrella” to keep the sun off my skin. I used sunscreen and have to be particularly careful of my new scars...one from my surgery last month, and the other from a biopsy taken from my chest last week. Since I had a melanoma removed, I am so careful of my skin.

As I was mowing, my mind wandered around....making lists for our upcoming trip to the beach, all the things that need doing beforehand, reminding myself to KISS (keep it simple, silly!) Suddenly, I saw the date in my mind. April 7th. Mr. Virgo and I got married on April 7th, 2007. This would have been our 14th Anniversary and that is just not relatable. He died just shy of our 6th...he’s been gone well over the short time that I had him.

I didn’t remember with sadness or longing. I remembered with a sense of incredulity. Here I was, sitting on a riding mower, mowing the five acres I share with a new husband I’ve known for literally 52 years...in West Virginia...my home state. It still seems surreal sometimes. Life hands us curveballs that we never see coming. We wake up one morning, our life is in one piece. We go to bed that night and our life is in shards on the floor. There truly is no rhyme or reason.

I watch my dear friends navigating grief...some newly bereaved, some not so much. When they’re at a certain point in their timeline that I recognize, I want to hold them and tell them to just hang on...just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I see them struggle and I remember struggling. I see them scream at God and I screamed at God, too. My prayer is, when they see me on the road ahead of them, they don’t compare where they are to where I am. We greet each new day of grief differently and no two are the same. Yet, there are patterns that emerge over time.

Time doesn’t heal grief. Grieving heals grief. And “heal” is a slippery word with many meanings attached to it. As I rode the tractor, wind in my hair, I fully realized that God used something so incredibly painful in my life to make me turn to Him for help. He turned that incredible pain into words to help those coming up the path behind me. And, He taught me to appreciate every single moment as it if might be the last...because it might just be.

A sweet friend from my bible study group lost her 28 year old son, suddenly and totally unexpectedly on Wednesday. She got up Wednesday morning and all was right in her world. She went to bed Wednesday night, her life shattered and lying in shards on the floor. There is no rhyme or reason, but I’ll be reaching my hand back to help her up this awful mountain.

It’s what I do. It’s what God sent me here for.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,”
Philippians 1:3 ESV

Neither Here nor There

Fri, 26 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

We are enjoying springtime in West Virginia. We are supposed to get some big storms in the next day or so...storms that would more than likely produce large amounts of heavy wet snow in Colorado elevations. Another reason why I chose to live here. My spirit just couldn’t take any more traditionally “spring” months filled with unpredictable snowstorms. You are neither here nor there in a Rocky Mountain March.

Mr. FixIt called me into the living room last night to see this little guy on the front door. This is the “peeper”...the tiny little tree frog that sings its love song on warm evenings in March and April here in the Mountain State. It is truly the harbinger of spring. As I sit here propped up on pillow in the back bedroom, lap desk and iPad on my knees, I’m listening to these little critters out along the creek and low, wet places on our property. Between that, the rain on the dried leaves that sounds like sizzling bacon, and the window wide open...I know exactly what season I am in.

Seasons don’t just come with the change in the orientation of the sun on the earth. Seasons also come with the changes in life. We all have passages through these seasons that seem to divide our journey into distinct chunks of time...childhood, young adult, family, career, empty nest, retirement. In general...aging. Within those divisions are distinct events that become benchmarks of our lives. Coupling, or not. Parenting, or not. Career, or not. Retirement, or not. And within those, we have the monumental moments that can come to define who we are.

My two most positive pivotal moments in my life were birthing my children. They fill me with love and joy...and occasionally, worry. My two most negative pivotal moments were the overdose...and losing Mr. Virgo. How I carry all four of these events define who I am today.

I have a sweet friend who is a fairly new widow. She has been doing an incredible job, going through all the typical widow stuff, but add in some natural disasters and she has discovered “intermittent mattress surfing”. Those are the rare days when the waves of grief hit so hard you can do nothing but lay in bed and cry. I had those days, too. I’m not worried about her...she knows not to buy real estate there. I have another friend who is marking the sixth angelversary of her husband’s death with her annual solo pilgrimage to the ocean for some solitary meditation. The manner in which we honor and remember changes with the tides of life.

Just as each one of us are fearfully and wonderfully made and totally unique from one another physically, so we are emotionally. Not everyone feels pain in the same way. My daughter broke her ankle, had a plate and seven screws placed, and never took more than an ibuprofen. Some people get a hangnail and you never hear the end of it. In the same way, everyone experiences grief in totally different ways. I used to try to compare where others were in their journey and wonder what was wrong with me. Maybe I was not as far along. Or maybe what was my biggest stumbling block seemed a piece of cake for others.

By submersing myself in writing this blog in the early days of grief, I learned I was perfectly normal...as was everyone else. We just didn’t all do it the same way. Grief is tough. There is nothing about it that is fun. There is growth you go through that can only be attained through a certain experience, but to say your spouse’s death is responsible for the growth you attain from it is horrifying. You would never wish such a tragedy in the name of personal growth.

That being said, I do watch the differences in the way widows (and widowers) lead their long term lives after their loss. Some never, ever date or marry again and wouldn’t even consider it. Some might consider it, but don’t ever make a move toward making that happen. Some may have not had a happy marriage so, while the death was difficult, the resultant escape from abuse keeps them firmly planted in freedom. Some cannot stand the thoughts of ever being alone and get hooked up with someone quickly.

I’m a mixture of these, I think. Early on, I told my daughters I would never, ever get married again because I would never put myself through such a loss again. Then I turned around and tried dating a couple of times...WAY too soon and Lord, I’m telling you....what a fiasco either one of those would have been if I would have stuck with them. For me, I came to the conclusion at around four or five years that I really didn’t want to spend the rest of my days alone. It’s not that I don’t love my own company, but I get bored really easily and I love the give and take of marriage. There is always a challenge and there is always a joy. It keeps life interesting.

For me, the trade off of marrying again has been a sort of “letting go” of Mr. Virgo. My memories of him are not painful now. I still have occasional pangs of sadness when I think of the actual loss but I think that’s remembering the pain, not the person. When I think of the person Mr. Virgo is/was to me, I am filled with warm and loving memories of a handsome man who carried my heart on a velvet pillow. Moving forward in life is not abdicating your love for your person. It is learning how to carry them gently in your heart without collapsing.

There was that tipping point where I was neither here, nor there. I was no longer married...I was widowed. Yet, he was my husband...dead or alive. Now I know...I can have both. I can have a living, breathing husband to share my life and love with AND I can have my late husband who will always and forever hold a piece of my heart because I know the very source of the love that I feel comes from God and that will never, ever change. This is how it has worked for me.

I am here.

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.”
Isaiah 26:3-4 ESV

Resting as an Olympic Sport

Sun, 21 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I think I like this resting thing. I have my laptop updated, my hard drive cleaned and defragged, and my bank account up to date and balanced. I watched several episodes of Dateline and Weekend Mystery and American Idol. Ok, the TV is a little much. I have watched more in the last two weeks than I have in the last two years because Mr. FixIt and I were staying in hotel rooms. I couldn’t get away from the TV very easily. It’s not a habit, though...that’s for sure.

I did watch one episode of Dateline that was intriguing. It was about a Jane Doe that had been murdered in Texas and some amateur genealogists worked together to eventually find out who she was. Now THAT kind of work I would find addicting. These people spent hundreds of hours scouring for information on the internet and thousands of phone calls and texts. They volunteered, along with hundreds of other amateur genealogists, with an organization called The DNA Doe Project. You can find more information HERE. I found it fascinating.

Yesterday started out cold but by late afternoon it was 62 degrees. Mr. FixIt says if we listen hard enough, we can hear the grass growing! I had to get outside to sit in the sunshine for a while. It’s supposed to be nice again today, so we are going for a little drive to check out the barn raising at a family member’s farm. I still need to get those irises divided! Time’s a wastin’!

What was that I was saying about liking this “rest” thing?

“Let's do our best to know the Lord. His coming is as certain as the morning sun; he will refresh us like rain renewing the earth in the springtime.”
Hosea 6:3 CEV

The First Day of Spring...2021

Sat, 20 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

This is the day I yearn for from the first frost. I’ve actually done better with winter the last two or three years. I’ve kept myself busy with lengthy projects that need time and attention and it keeps my mood lifted. The time always seems to pass quickly when you are engaged in something you love. But, when this day comes, I always feel a sigh of relief and a weight...however imperceptible...lifts from my shoulders.

I took the advice of you good people (and some close friends in the medical field) and did nothing yesterday but relax in my recliner and heal. And I felt much better for it. My friend Ellie reminded me we only have so much vital energy and we need to use it to heal. If we use it on other things, we don’t have any left for our body to do the hard work of repairing itself. She gave me the example of what people say when they’re doing too much... “I was feeling so much better, then....” Thank you, Ellie. Your gentle reminder was well received and I feel your love and hugs and prayers all the way from Florida.

One of the first things I saw on Facebook yesterday was this quote from Eleonora Duse, an Italian actress who rivaled Sarah Bernhardt in the late 19th Century. My friend Becky tagged me because she knows this is MY best day, so I needed to share it with you. When I drive out the little 2-lane country roads and see the grass green up along the ditches and creeks, my heart soars. When the crystal clear blue skies bless me with sunshine on my cheeks, I take a deep cleansing breath. Thank you for thinking of me, Becky. When God turns the page on another season and the earth comes alive...so do I.

I remember thinking to myself in March of 2013...if Mr. Virgo had to die, I thanked God it was at the beginning of spring and not the beginning of winter. I took my little camper into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months and started to heal my broken heart...one campfire at a time. Nature cradled me in warmth and sounds and smells that soothed my spirit and helped me walk through the fires of grief without being burned alive. I was ever so grateful for that because I know full well it would have been a different story six months later during a Colorado winter.

I don’t really have anything on my schedule until April Fool’s Day so I’m going to take my time resting and healing the next couple of weeks. After the way I felt Thursday, I think I have a greater appreciation of the way aging effects recovery from illness, injury, or surgery. Things just don’t work like they used to. I don’t really begrudge that. Aging is a natural part of life and it’s not like I can’t do what I really want to do. I just have to adapt and approach things a little more slowly and carefully now....especially until my bones build up with calcium again after surgery. I have too many things to do than to have a broken hip or something.

So, my lovelies...may you have a wonderful First Day of Spring. I hope you get outside and enjoy some fresh air, and hopefully some sunshine, and lift your hearts with joy.

“Winter is past, the rain has stopped; flowers cover the earth, it's time to sing. The cooing of doves is heard in our land.”
Song of Songs 2:11-12 CEV

Thunderbolts and Lightning

Fri, 19 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

We had our first thunderstorm of the year yesterday afternoon. It rained off and on much of the day...not terribly heavy. Just fits and starts. After driving most of the day Tuesday, I had a slump yesterday. There were still things that needed doing. I picked up the mail at the Post Office. Mr. FixIt went to pick up the cat at the vet. I emptied the last of the stuff from the truck. I discovered the freezer in the garage fridge wasn’t closed tight before we left so we lost all the food in it. I found a leaky pipe in the basement. I did a load of laundry. I filled all the bird feeders and checked to see if the daffodils have bloomed yet. And, after that I was done. I was so hoping I’d be one of the rabbits that get better really fast after this surgery, but I have to be patient with my little turtle self. I took the steri-strip off my incision yesterday. It’s still quite swollen but it’ll get better before I know it.

We were watching the news last night and Mr. FixIt went into the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. He called me in to look out at the road. There was a sheriff parked in the road directing traffic and a tractor was driving back and forth. I said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m nosy enough to go out and ‘check the mail’...what do you think?” He came along with me to see what what going on. Not a lot happens out here so this was big stuff. Apparently, a dump truck lost a bunch of dirt out on the road there and when it rained, we had a little slip-n-slide going on. We’re lucky no one went flying off over the guard rail.

One of the favorite pastimes of rural folk is listening to the police scanner. I’ve never really gotten into that because I like peace and quiet. Instead, I either call my friend that has one, or I check the County Scanner Page on Facebook. You know you live in the smallest county in the state when someone comes on the page with “What’s going on?” and seventeen people come back with exactly what’s going on and where. It’s better than a game of telephone. Anyway, the report of the dirt falling from a dump truck was not only in front of our house, but also on top of the hill a few miles down the road. Nic & Son wanted to make sure we all knew none of their trucks were working in our area yesterday. I love small towns.

That was the extent of my day. There’s so much work that needs to be done around here, but I am just going to make myself lay low for a few days and heal. That isn’t easy for me to do. At least it’s not mowing season yet!

“If you are tired from carrying heavy burdens, come to me and I will give you rest. Take the yoke I give you. Put it on your shoulders and learn from me. I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest. This yoke is easy to bear, and this burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30 CEV

Day 363: Patience is NOT one of My Virtues!

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I like to think I am a virtuous woman, but when it comes to the virtue of patience, I came out on the short end of the stick. I have never liked waiting for anything. When I was a child, I would wear a pair of shoes a full size too small if it meant I didn’t have to wait till we found a pair that actually fit. When I knit, it’s seldom a complicated pattern because I want it done yesterday. Cliff Notes are my friends. So are cake mixes and instant mashed potatoes. I’ve always been in a hurry.

There are some things that hurrying just doesn’t help. Teaching a baby. Getting your husband out the door on time. Baking bread. These things take whatever time they take. So does recovering from surgery. I have so much swelling in my neck, it looks like I have a goiter. I don’t like it. I want it gone. But, do you think that’s going to make a bit of difference? Nope! I lay down to read in the afternoon and sleep three hours. My body is telling me what to do, and whether I like it or not, I must listen.

We opted for an affordable room over one in close proximity to a beach. It’s spring break and we wouldn’t want to be mingling out on a beach anyway. We decided yesterday to sit alongside the pool and read. I lasted ten minutes. The sun was SO hot it burned my tender skin clear through two layers of clothing. We came back up to the room, I stretched out to read and...bam. Three hour nap. We wanted to get to a beach to see the sunset, but we ended up driving around looking at retirement communities and browsing a huge antique store.

It was a good day. We had leftovers from Carabba’s. We chatted with the kids and looked at pictures of their snow. And rested. That’s ok. Sometimes patience is all we have.

“Let your hope make you glad. Be patient in time of trouble and never stop praying.”
Romans 12:12 CEV

Day 362: Another Day of Recovery

Sun, 14 Mar 2021 01:30:00 -0600

I hate to admit how much this surgery has taken out of me. I feel so much better as far as the symptoms I had before, but yesterday I woke up with a swollen neck I won’t scare you with. Apparently, the ice pack fell off during the night and I was laying flatter than I thought so I have that “flappin’ in the wind turkey neck” thing going on. And sore??? Oy. I had to get up and out some, though.

I asked Mr. FixIt to take me to the local Starbucks for a Nitro Cold Brew with Sweet Cream. Before surgery, I would have had a heck of a time with acid reflux. After surgery? Smooth as silk! Another win!

We came back to the hotel and walked around a bit. I’m hoping Monday will be quieter with the weekenders moving on and we can hang out at this groovy pool. Once back to the room, I put my ice pack back on and stretched out, propped up this time. Still having trouble clearing my throat between the swelling and the pain. But I am absolutely convinced tomorrow will be better.

Mr. FixIt came in late in the afternoon to see what I wanted to eat and I had this craving for Carabba’s. We passed one just a few minutes from our hotel so we ordered dinner to go and my sweetheart went to pick it up for me. Fettuccini Carabba....Alfredo with Grilled Chicken and Peas for me. Fettuccini Weesie...Alfredo with Shrimp and Scallops for my love. Along with a salad each, and bread with aioli...it was way too much food for one meal so we get to have the leftovers today!

They say the third day after surgery is the worst. I have no idea why, but I’m just going to ignore that little old wives tale and feel great today...right? Thanks for all your prayers and support this week. I could feel your love around me and God’s tender care. I wasn’t a bit anxious when I was there. I felt like everything was under control and I appreciate your help.

“You always heal them and restore their strength when they are sick. I prayed, “Have pity, Lord! Heal me, though I have sinned against you.””
Psalms 41:3-4 CEV

Day 335: When Time Crawls...or Is It Valentine’s Day Already???

Sun, 14 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

February is the longest month....EV-ER!!!! I swear...we’re only in the middle of it and it’s been six months long already. I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished much. But I’ve been working on my genealogy, knitting a little, keeping up with friends and family. Big had her second swim meet of the year and I got to see that remotely. Daughter #2 called with a video chat. Mundane stuff...a little boring, a lot repetitive.

Today is Valentine’s Day. Normally, Mr. FixIt would have walked in with a bouquet of flowers and a card. But, between covid and snowy roads, he hasn’t been anywhere that sells them. He did bring me a pumpkins roll, so I’m counting that. Our trip to the beach will have to be our Valentine to each other this year.

I’m thinking of my friends who are new widows this Valentine’s Day. I opened Facebook yesterday and the roses and little heart shaped cake Mr. Virgo surprised me with nine years ago was my first “Memory” that popped up. Those things used to kill me. Interestingly, as I was working on my genealogy this week, a little green leaf popped up on Mr. Virgo’s listing. That’s unusual because I don’t know of anyone on his side that’s working him up. I clicked on the little leaf.

I was stunned. There was his high school graduation picture. I only knew him with a head full of silver hair. Here was this handsome young man in a white dinner jacket...his hair neatly combed in the style he always wore. I could see the same fastidious grooming he always had. I had never seen him at that age and I couldn’t take my eyes away. It’s like I found some buried treasure that was so valuable, I just wanted to look at it for a little while before I put it safely in a drawer.

Here’s a piece I wrote on the first Valentine’s Day after Mr. Virgo died where I talk about the scar tissue grief leaves. I didn’t even mention the significance of the day, which tells me I was trying hard not to think about the significance. It’s amazing how time changes your perspectives. In the midst of it, I never would have dreamed I could breathe again or not feel the constant gut-wrenching pain of his loss.

My dear friend and long time reader, Jackie, reminded me of something. I wrote this before God nudged me to write about Him in my posts. Of course, it is God who stitches us together. Any time I try to take the needle, I botch things up!

I am grateful...that I had Mr. Virgo...I’m grateful that God stitched me back together...and that I have another beautiful life with my wonderful Mr. FixIt.

“Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day.”
Colossians 2:16 NIV

Day 334: Throwing Out a Lifeline

Sat, 13 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Sometimes we lose our moorings. We become untethered and bound about, endlessly bouncing from one disaster to the next...wondering if life will every slow down. Just a little. Just enough to catch our breath. We bob and weave like a buoy....broken away and tossed on the waves...no way to be saved. Or to save others.

I’ve been cut loose like that from time to time. And, in the depths of my loss, something happens that reels me back in and makes me feel calmer, more anchored. I know it’s often my own prayers that bring me back to God...to my source of peace and comfort. But, it occurred to me last night as I was meditating on this topic...sometimes it’s the prayers of others that bring us back.

As I scanned the last week, there have been so many opportunities for me to pray. Some for myself, for sure. But many, many opportunities to pray for others. The other night, a sweet friend from my little town in Colorado texted to tell me we had lost a very dear man...a friend to all. A quiet man with a fierce love for life. A talented actor. An adventurer. A sweet spirit.

I last chatted with him a week or so ago. He had survived his second bout of cancer and the scans were clear, he said. He had to come home from Asia where he’s lived for several years so he could get his cancer treatments. He had to leave his love there, because it’s very difficult to get a visa. They’ve worked at it for the better part of three years, and finally it was granted. She was packed and on her way to join him. He was to pick her up at the airport today. Instead, they had to contact her at the airport to tell her...he had died in his sleep the night before.

Of all the sadness and anger and ugly things that have happened in the last year...that broke me. I know sudden loss. I understand the gut punch a snatch death brings. But, to finally be on her way, then.... I’m heartbroken for her...and I have never met her. So, I pray for her and I hold her in my heart. And I throw her a line.

My friend Kate has been widowed not quite four months. She is still learning to navigate this with teenaged twins. Hers was also a snatch death...a heart attack...just exactly like Mr. Virgo. She’s going through the same things I did....the anger, the fear, the guilt. And, just when she landed a dream job, a horrific ice storm is felling trees and branches all over her acreage. So far, it hasn’t damaged her house too much, but there’s four more days to go through this storm. So, I pray for her and I hold her in my heart. And I throw her a line.

My friend Janine has a niece who just had her first baby...right in the middle of a debilitating brain bleed and resulting surgery and things are scary...sort of touch and go. The family is beside themselves and praying harder than they ever have. So, I pray for her and I hold her in my heart. And I throw her a line.

God gives me an endless supply of lifelines to throw out to people in the form of prayer. When I throw that line out to someone, it sticks to them...whether they know it or not...whether they feel it or not. Then God picks up the other end of the line and takes it from there.

Just as I sat down to write this, a Silver Alert came across my phone. I looked down at the face of the middle aged man and I recognized in him a developmental disability...much like my own brother, and my sweet Uncle Bob who is gone with Jesus now. This man is lost somewhere and it is frightfully cold. He doesn’t have a warm winter coat on...only a hooded sweatshirt. This breaks me even more. There...but for the Grace of God. That could have been my brother. I am overcome with gratitude that he has always been loved and cared for and the people with whom we have entrusted his care are so good to him.

So...I pray for them all...I hold them in my heart. Then I throw them a line.

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”
James 5:16 NIV

Day 320: Fighting the Fog

Sat, 30 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Aging ain’t for sissies, is it. I’m sixty-seven now, and while that’s not elderly by any stretch of the imagination...I’m no spring chicken. “Grief Brain” threw me for a loop. The first couple of years after losing Mr. Virgo, I couldn’t remember things without writing lists and then I couldn’t remember where I put them. Things just seemed to fall through the crack and it really scared me. But, with time and healing, that got a lot better. Then...I had a closed head injury.

In February 2017, a man pulled out in front of me and I could not stop. I t-boned him, the airbags went off, and we went around in a circle in the road. I had a pretty bad concussion and a subdural hematoma and I lost my memory...about two months before and at least two months after. I mean, like...I had a whole trip to Florida that I do not remember. I saw the historic re-enactment complex at Fort New Salem on the internet. I went and showed it to Mr. FixIt and suggested we should go see it because it looked really interesting. He looked at me weird and said...quietly, “Honey, I took you there.” I had absolutely no memory of it until he described what it looked like and that the day was rainy and the wood on the buildings were dark grey with moisture. Then, it was like remembering a photograph I was shown fleetingly once, but I couldn’t recall the circumstances around it.

That was really scary, but again, with time and healing, I was able to develop and hold onto new memories, although those months surrounding the accident are still a dim and distant fog. An out-of-focus picture album of black and white photos...grainy and crackled.

Sometime about three years or so ago, I started getting these weird, phantom pains that migrated...here for a while, then there for a while. My temper got really short and I was just grouchy about everything. I couldn’t sleep worth a darn. And the fog started rolling in again. This time, I was really afraid I was getting Alzheimer’s. I have trouble finding words when I talk. I swear things have never happened when Mr. FixIt swears just as strongly that they did.

We went for a drive yesterday to find the house my parents lived in when they were first married. I may have seen it when I was young, but even looking at it didn’t ring a bell with me. It turns out, I’ve driven past it hundreds of times...I just didn’t know its significance. Then, I told Mr. FixIt I wanted to find the house my aunt lived in when I was a little girl. He said I had shown him that house before and told him someone I knew had lived there. It couldn’t have been my aunt’s house because I didn’t even know where it was until I saw the address in the city directory yesterday when I was working on my genealogy.

We drove toward the area when he pointed out a house and said, “There...it’s that one.” He said it may not be my aunt that I told him had lived there, but I’ve pointed that house out to him several times and told him I used to know who lived there. I actually drove past the house twice yesterday, and...even though I have driven past it all my life...I have absolutely no memory of ever telling him I know someone who lived there. None whatsoever.

When these things happen, it’s terribly disconcerting. However, now I know that this is a very common side effect of hyperparathyroidism, and when I get the tumor removed, it should improved greatly. I certainly hope so, because it is very upsetting to walk around in a fog when you know you’ve been a whole lot sharper than this. As soon as we get the second dose of the covid vaccine and I’ve had a few days to get through any side effects, I’ll be calling to schedule my surgery in Florida. Then I can get my life back on track and feel more like myself again.

It’s not just the mental fog. Some days I hurt something awful and have a hard time getting up and down out of my chair. Muscle and joint pain and headaches on top of the brain fog is enough to get you down. So, until I can get the surgery done, I continue to work word puzzles about an hour every day and do what I can to keep my brain active. I’m going to start walking and eating healthier, as well. There are brighter days ahead...and I’m not going to miss out on anything. I have too much living to do to just settle for this!

“Once again Jesus spoke to the people. This time he said, “I am the light for the world! Follow me, and you won't be walking in the dark. You will have the light that gives life.””
John 8:12 CEV

Day 315: Turning the Corner on Covid

Mon, 25 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Slowly...ever so slowly...the Covid surge from holiday travel and gatherings has begun to come down. My friend sends me the West Virginia data every morning like clockwork. And we examine it for any promising sign that things are improving. I know the dominant driver of this decline is the fact that it’s January. We don’t have too many places to go. No holidays, no celebrations, no huge gatherings. Just football and fireplaces and reading a good book.

Hindsight is always 20/20. They asked that we forego the family gatherings of Thanksgiving and Christmas. They warned us what would happen. And it did. And it was even worse than they thought. I worked in medicine for 42 years. I cannot imagine going through what those frontline workers have endured over the last three months. There will be fallout from this long after herd immunity is achieved. We will find the ripple effect reaching points we cant even imagine right now.

The relief they must feel when they see the numbers coming down. When they see vaccines coming. When they see you staying at home and wearing a mask when you’re out...not only for yourself and your loved ones, but for THEM, as well. I know it must give them hope. I know it does me. There is a very real part of me that feels guilty that I received the vaccine and my beautiful daughters haven’t. One is a house spouse right now, and she probably already had Covid. But the other is a teacher and will be expected to go into the classroom without immunity. And that scares the h*** out of me.

In the overall grand scheme of things, the collective stress level is coming down, I think. I know I feel it. As I sat down to write this, I had to really think about something to say. I mean, seriously...we watched football, sat by the fire, took naps. There are no alerts buzzing on my phone. No Breaking News Reports on the television. There are many things that are still uncertain, but living through it all has become far more promising.

We’re having a fairly easy winter here in West Virginia so far. We have a little snow predicted this week, and one night is supposed to get down into the high teens. But that is so much better than the winters I lived through in Colorado when it wasn’t unusual to wake up to twenty-four below zero and three feet of snow this time of year. I’ll take this any day of the week...especially when we get those beautiful sunny days that are exceedingly rare here.

As of last evening, I’m up to September 19, 2016 in copying my blog to my website. I have to copy through November 14, 2016 and I’m done! Great progress and a blessed relief. Pushing myself to complete this massive undertaking has been a labor of love and a walk down memory lane at the same time. I’m at the point where I moved into my grandparent’s farmhouse and was fighting a flea infestation from the farm cats. That was quite an ordeal at the time. Yet, I have such lovely memories of living on the farm.

I only have one trip to town on my schedule this week. I am sure I will have the website completed by this time next week and I can move on to the next thing. The weights are lifting, day by day.

“Worry is a heavy burden, but a kind word always brings cheer. You are better off to do right, than to lose your way by doing wrong.”
Proverbs 12:25-26 CEV

Day 314: Doctor, Doctor...I Can Walk!

Sun, 24 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve survived a lot in my sixty-seven years. Abuse, trauma, addiction, depression. And, every time I’ve gone through a rough patch, I come out feeling such a tremendous sense of relief and gratitude that the pain finally stopped. I have to say...I felt that yesterday. When you are in the trenches for a long time, it’s really easy to convince yourself you’re doing ok. It’s not so bad. I can do this. Then, when the weight is lifted, you realize just how awful it was down there. It’s the same as when you’ve been very sick with a bad flu. When you feel better is when you realize just how sick you really were.

It seems something as ubiquitous as the “Bernie Memes” swept the internet, our country came out of the water at the deep end and gasped a lung full of fresh air. You could almost feel a collective sigh as people everywhere belly laughed for maybe the first time in a long, long time. It felt good. No...it felt GREAT! It felt liberating....like coming out of a dark winter into the warm sunshine of spring.

It’s been a rough stretch for an awful lot of people in this country and Bernie sitting in a chair EVERYWHERE was just what the doctor ordered. I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders as I saw thread after thread on the internet...each meme funnier that the last. It felt...normal. Like, normal life. The Covid numbers are still awful, but they just might be slowing down ever so slightly. The vaccines are slowly trickling out, but help is on the way to coordinate the effort. And each day has incrementally more light in it that the day before as we slowly inch our way toward spring.

The sun was shining yesterday here at the Ponderosa. I sat in my big red recliner and worked all day on my website and I’m making great progress. I am up to the first week of September 2016. Once I finish copying November 14, 2016...everything will be on my website. What an accomplishment that will be. To be able to scroll down and see eight years of work at my fingertips. It makes me giddy to think such a huge undertaking is nearly complete. Between that and the stress released by lots of belly laughs...I’m feeling like a new woman today! We aren’t totally out of the woods yet, but my strength has been renewed and I can face another day...with a whole boatload more hope!

“I pray that God, who gives hope, will bless you with complete happiness and peace because of your faith. And may the power of the Holy Spirit fill you with hope.”
Romans 15:13 CEV

Country Roads...

Tue, 01 Nov 2016 01:30:43 -0600

Take me home. I thought you might like to see what I see when I drive out to the farm. OMGosh...how I love this road! Several years ago, I discovered I could "drive" down this old country road on Google Earth by getting down on the street level view. It became my secret obsession...at least once a week I would log on my iPad and "go home". And now? Now I get to live here and see this every single day. I am SO grateful for this opportunity. I thanked my uncle again yesterday and he assured me he was just as grateful that I am here taking care of the place for him. He lives too far away and family obligations keep him from making the trip more than once or twice a year.

This serene setting gives me plenty of opportunity to reflect on the miracles of my life. The twists and turns. The potholes...HUGE potholes. But also the peaks. You cannot appreciate the peaks if you haven't been mired in the valleys. Eleven years ago today I had my first date with Mr. Virgo. We met at a little restaurant in Basalt, CO. He brought me a rose. He was charming. Devastatingly handsome. Funny. A good listener. Easy going. Tall. I love tall men. We had a long lunch, good conversation, and a kiss goodbye at the car. It was cold and drizzly that day. I remember feeling warmed by that kiss.

I miss that man. I always will. I'm grateful I'm in a different space in my head, and my heart, now. I can look back at every aspect of our life together and feel happiness...most of the time. I can appreciate the fact that I had him in my life, albeit for too short a time. If I allow myself, I can still revisit the pain his loss gave me. The emptiness, the fear, the longing. Sometimes it's good to go there for a little while to work on some grief. But it doesn't serve me in my everyday life to stay there too long. The pain gets in the way of celebrating his life...MY life. I'd rather dance with him on my shoulder than sit with his memory in the dark. Dancing is life affirming. And...I am very much alive!

I'm finding joy again. In the simple ticking of the clock I bought him on his last Christmas. I hung it here in the dining room. I find joy in the memory of his face when I presented him with the painting I did of Mt. Sopris for his 60th birthday. I hung it here in the living room. I find peace knowing I have a lock of his gorgeous silver hair that I can touch any time I want. I keep it in a red leather box along with our wedding bands.

Living at the farm has another benefit. Mr. Virgo isn't lurking around every corner here like he is in Colorado. He was only here once so there are very few memories of him at the farm. They mostly revolve around standing behind the barn while he smoked and that isn't one of my favorite memories. Smoking took him away from me. There are a few good memories here with him, though. One night we stood on the back porch and listened to a bear in the woods near the house. One afternoon we hiked back on the hill and put our names in the old church registry. We tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep in a double bed in the dead heat of August.

I dreaded getting to this point in my grief journey where he didn't occupy every thought. But this is good. This is where I'm supposed to be. He isn't "gone". He'll never be totally gone. He lives on in my heart and sometimes he makes his presence known, and I smile...almost always. For that I am most grateful.

❤️

“Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭30:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Settle Down

Thu, 27 Oct 2016 01:30:56 -0600

Wednesday's are long days for me. I have to get up long before dawn to take the trash out so the critters don't get into it. (I'm still working on a raccoon-proof trash can.) I had a laundry list of things to accomplish yesterday and before I knew it, the sun was setting and I hadn't made it to the grocery store. That doesn't count the drive back out to the farm. I needed to settle down and catch my breath. My favorite grocery store is just across the river in Ohio and I remembered a beautiful park nearby with a great walking path. I headed there and walked the long outer loop, stopping to read the names of the individuals and businesses who sponsor the large planters hanging from the lamp posts. By the time I got back to the truck, the sun was giving off the last bit of light and I grabbed this shot. While I love living at the farm, this river holds big magic for me and I needed her energy after a long and busy day.

I made a new friend yesterday. She found me a couple of weeks ago, actually through a connection I'd made earlier in the year after the New York Times article came out. I love synchronicity. This woman is creating a new podcast and wanted to interview me for it. While I love doing interviews, they do force me to dive back into my loss and it stirs up feelings. Not a bad thing. Just an emotional check point that I don't visit quite as often anymore. One of the questions she asked me was regarding those first few hours after losing Mr. Virgo. It wasn't one of those awful reporter kind of questions you see on the 10:00 news...like, "So, Mrs. Smith...what did it feel like when you saw the alligator eat your husband?" I hate that. No, this was an empathetic plea..."How the hell do you deal with something like this?" I've been re-hashing my answer all afternoon and I can't come up with anything better than what I told her. I answered her in typical Marshmallow Ranch fashion...with a story.

That terrible day, the cardiologist came out to tell me they did everything they could but the damage was too great and they could not save my husband. My very first response was to empathize with him because he looked like he got rode hard and put away wet. He was physically and mentally exhausted after working feverishly for three hours. I thanked him and told him I knew firsthand what he had just gone through and I appreciated his efforts. I told her about being led into the room and seeing Mr. Virgo lying covered with a clean sheet...and his hair was slicked back. Then, right there at that critical juncture of the story...I started laughing. I apologized and assured her the experience was truly horrific and there was nothing funny about it at the time. And there still isn't, save for his hair. And here's why....

Most evenings, Mr. Virgo would stretch out on the couch with his head in my lap and I would run my fingers through that gorgeous mane of silver hair. I swear, he purred. After a half hour or so, he'd get up to go make his tea and his hair would be slicked back. I would laugh at him and call him Guido because he looked like some sort of mafioso in a Saturday afternoon B movie. When I walked into the room to see Mr. Virgo and they had his hair slicked back, I said " Oh, my God...NO! He looks like Guido!!!"

Time has eased the pain of that memory and allowed me to blend it with the fun memory of stroking his hair and turning this handsome Irishman into an Italian mob boss. And yes, I laughed at the absurdity of what happens to your brain in grief and how you fixate on the stupidest things. It allowed me to explain "grief brain". I've worried all afternoon about what people might think when they hear me laughing after such a serious question as "How did you handle that?" But there is nothing crazier than trying to absorb the news that the love of your life is gone and your world lies shattered at your feet. I think people will understand that...especially when it happens to them. That's why I'm doing what I'm doing in the first place. I'm a grief mentor. I'm here to tell you there is NOTHING predicable about grief....except that it's totally unpredictable.

The interview went well, I totally bonded with the interviewer and I am going to make her join up and go girl camping. I got my shopping done and dodged about thirty to forty deer on the drive back to the farm and today is another day.

❤️

“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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday, Mr. Virgo!

Sat, 10 Sep 2016 01:30:02 -0600

You were the brightest star in my night sky. You carried my heart on a velvet pillow. You were my handsome man. You taught me how to live without you. You taught me how to love, how to trust. You showed me there were good men who stay.

With every passing year, you step back a bit into the shadows. It hurts, but it doesn't. It makes me sad, but it doesn't. Having you, and losing you, have become a part of who I am. As real as my wrinkles and my right arm. You are a part of me. The scars on my heart will mark where you sat in my life. Thank God I can think of you now and smile. Thank God I got to have you.
You would have been 66 today. Instead, you are forever 62. At the top of your game. And...I will always, always love you!

❤️

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Past

Mon, 05 Sep 2016 01:30:12 -0600

I have many friends I have never met in person. I have met them through speaking and writing and they are as dear to me as those I have coffee with on a regular basis. One such friend is Susan. Susan is a photographer, a real estate agent, and a really cool NYC diva. She shoots these great, well planned photo series and shows in galleries all over. She has an idea for a series and wants me to come to NY for a photo shoot which I'm really excited about. Susan also happens to be a widow.

I first heard from her the day the New York Times article came out. She had gone to yoga that morning and during her practice she had a vision for this project. She came back to her apartment, fixed her coffee, and sat down with the Times. She noticed my article right away and read it. And, she suddenly felt compelled to contact me. She found Marshmallow Ranch and sent me a private message. We ended up chatting for a couple of hours that day and really hit it off.

Yesterday, I went down to a local historic hotel for coffee and the paper before church. As I was sitting there, I noticed Susan was online so I sent her a message to catch up. Mr. Virgo came up in the conversation and she asked me several questions about him. Finally, I told her I wanted to thank her for asking about him. It's been over three and a half years now since he died and people just don't ask about him. No one says, "Hey...tell me that story again about the time_______". It makes me sad. It makes me feel like he's invisible, fading from my view. Fading from the view, and memories, of others. I love it when people ask me questions about him. It brings him to the front for a while so we can revel in the memories.

I don't want him to live in the front all the time any more. But it's awfully nice to visit him once in awhile in the company of another. It reminds me he may be gone, but he's not forgotten.

❤️

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭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

Home of my Heart

Mon, 08 Aug 2016 01:30:59 -0600

Just a quick note to let you know I arrived safely. I had to run to the next little small town to buy a long distance calling card. I can't be TOTALLY cut off from the world! I'm going to sleep till noon tomorrow! I haven't stopped running since I got to WV. It's so peaceful in this little holler. Can't wait to sit on the porch and listen to the night. Talk to you soon!

❤️

“The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”
Psalm 29:11 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

After the Storm

Wed, 06 Jul 2016 01:30:10 -0600

And, just like that, the storm is over. Done. I slept twelve hours straight Sunday night. And woke up yesterday morning feeling like a million bucks! I've gotta tell ya, that was a rough one. I haven't been down like that, for that length of time, since the first year or two after Mr. Virgo died. My great grandfather used to say, "It'll stop hurting when the pain goes away". He wasn't kidding.

My camping trip with Little has been postponed to later in the month. Poor thing has been on the run since she got out of school. She needs some down time. We're making our plans, deciding where to go and what to do. She understands this is tent camping and we don't have TOW-Wanda. Her only request is we go horseback riding and fishing. Have I mentioned how much I love this kid??? We're so excited to have this time together! Big has qualified for the state swim meet that weekend. Besides, I would literally have to hogtie and kidnap her to ever get her to camp again anyway. She's twelve, you know. I'll need to come up with something special to do with her before I leave.

I'm glad I have bad days. I don't like them, but bad days make me appreciate the good ones so much more.

❤️

“He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.”

Balance

Sun, 26 Jun 2016 01:30:04 -0600

A dear friend sent me a message yesterday in reference to the Roller Coaster post. She has studied Ayurveda, a 5,000 year old system of medical care with roots in India. It is based on maintaining balance between body, mind, and spirit. According to the Chopra Center, "Recognizing that human beings are part of nature, Ayurveda describes three fundamental energies that govern our inner and outer environments: movement, transformation, and structure. Known in Sanskrit as Vata (Wind), Pitta (Fire), and Kapha (Earth), these primary forces are responsible for the characteristics of our mind and body." If one or more of these energies get out of balance, it can be a huge instigator of anxiety. With travel, heat, altitude, emotional upheaval surrounding illness in the family and missing my man...it's no wonder I felt ungrounded.

Everything in the world is made of energy. We are affected by energy, both internal and external. When something gets too excited, it causes a response somewhere else...because, energy cannot be created or destroyed. Achieving balance while grieving is a monumental task as I'm sure you've found. It doesn't take much to send all those rocks tumbling at your feet.
I spent the day yesterday writing my book proposal. It's a zen activity for me to write. I get centered. I meditate. I pray. Then I get in the zone and let it flow. For some reason, the flow is easy this week and I can get so much done. I have to be in the right creative space to write. I found my balance yesterday.

Today, we're heading out on a road trip to the Olympic Trials. My oldest and her oldest are attending. Her youngest and I are hanging out by the pool!!! It will be a lovely trip with my beloveds.

Balance. It's all about balance.

❤️

“I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.”
Philippians 4:11 NIV

Relax

Sat, 25 Jun 2016 01:30:46 -0600

A day full of self-care is all it takes to make the difference between a roller coaster spinning out of control and smooth sailing. First, thank you for all your words of encouragement yesterday. They help more than you know. I do have to remind myself that it's just been three years. I'm still actively grieving. And, as my sweet friend Jamie points out to me...no amount of busy distraction and exercise can keep me from the work at hand.

My family heard me. I explained where I am in this journey and that I really do try to do my best. And, my "best" varies with the wind. They were understanding, loving, and supportive. I didn't go to Water World and sit in the heat. I worked on my book proposal till mid-afternoon. Then I took a nap. I met the kids for dinner and then my older daughter and I went out to a movie. It was a day of self-care and love and peace and I felt SO much better afterward. Sometimes you just have to take this one day at a time.

I'm staying home today and writing. I finished the chapter summaries yesterday. Today I work on the book summary...sort of a "Cliff Notes" version. I'm so excited! I really want this part done so I can move on to the manuscript. This is quite a process!

❤️

“The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.””
Exodus 33:14 NIV

Photo Credit: omgcutethings.com

The Primrose Path

Sat, 18 Jun 2016 01:30:02 -0600

"The primrose path refers to.....a course of action that seems easy and appropriate but can actually end in calamity." Wikipedia

I was married to a "fixer" for twenty years. God bless him. He's a good man. A hard worker. Intelligent. Accomplished. Funny as heck. But there was something in his caregiver nature that both drove him to be a physician and made him want to help me be whatever it was he thought I needed help with. Low self esteem? He was my cheerleader. Overweight? He was my encourager. Sick? He was my healer. He tried his best to rescue me from myself. And, as you can well imagine, that didn't work out very well for either one of us. For him, there was frustration when no amount of aid he offered seemed to work. And for me, there was frustration that he couldn't just accept me the way I was.

When Mr. Virgo came into my life, it was so refreshing. He just loved me...period. If I wanted to improve, he was behind me 100% but he didn't care one bit what I weighed or how I dressed or how much I exercised. He was as happy as a little clam to just be near me. That left me free to take care of my own needs, make my own choices. It felt like I'd been let out of prison. I have had people close to me...people I care about deeply....affect my life in positive ways. And I've been quick to tell them so and thank them for their positive influence. But let me tell you...if I so much as get a whiff that someone wants to be in a relationship with me in order to "fix" me...I'll be out that door so fast it will make your head spin. No thank you. I've been nearly fixed to death. That is not a healthy basis for any relationship.

I've been down that primrose path. It's not a place I care to go again.

❤️

“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

Photo credit: Unsplash

Roller Coaster

Thu, 16 Jun 2016 01:30:09 -0600

Yesterday was one of those Colorado days that inspire poetry. Not a cloud in the sky. A beautiful drive through the mountains with stunning vistas at every turn. I played tourist and stopped at all the amazing views to take pictures. I was absolutely on top of the world.

I stopped at Vail for a little break and when I pulled back onto the highway, this immense wave of sadness washed over me. The further west I drove, the stronger the wave. Through my tears, I thought it over. Why this moment? Why here? Why now? The most obvious answer is, this is where Mr. Virgo was laid to rest. As the landscape became more and more like the sagebrush hills where he is buried, the more insistent the thoughts of him were. And, I was tired. Very, very tired. I'd been driving for days and I just hit the wall. It's been six months since I visited his gravesite. It was time.

I went to see my brother first. He's doing well. We watched baseball and visited. He doesn't like his new hearing aids. I'm not surprised. He gave me a birthday card. And lots of hugs. We'll visit a couple more times before I head back to Denver. I needed to get to the cemetery.

I was struck by how deep my sadness was. It snuck up on me and totally took me by surprise. I cried harder than I have in quite some time. And once I got it out, I felt much better. It's just that...this still sucks. It will always suck. Sometimes it just sucks more than others. I miss this man. Dammit.

I visited my former neighbors and played with their kids. Then came to my brother/friend's house and sat on the back deck and listened to the creek gurgle. And life is good again.

❤️

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”
1 Peter 5:7 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

Music From the Heart

Wed, 11 May 2016 01:30:54 -0600

For a very long time after losing Mr. Virgo...my world went dark and silent. I saw no colors. I heard no music. There was no real joy except when I hugged my children and grandchildren and when I snuggled down in TOW-Wanda. I was floating in this cosmic wasteland, searching for something I remembered...something familiar. Something that was now far removed from me. I had a sense things would eventually come back into focus. I did everything I could to move the time line along, but there was no way that was going to happen. I had to just resign myself to the fact I was going to have to ride this one out.

I started seeing color again in the second year. Music came back into my life in the third year. This year...my year to thrive...has seen a virtual explosion in my life. My heart is full to overflowing and love is splashing everywhere. My mind has opened and I'm learning and growing. Age is blessing me with cahunas big enough to shoo away the negatives and draw the positives very close. God is blessing me with the most beautiful people in my life and such amazing opportunities. Wisdom and discernment are gifts of age and man, am I glad those two finally showed up!

I love how music has filled my life again. Special songs with poignant lyrics keep turning up to fill my heart. I throw the door open wide and invite them in. Bring your friends...we're celebrating. Life, love, spring, rain on the camper roof, the smell of new mown grass. Curried salmon. Juicy fresh berries. Thunder. And...Blue Velvet...At Last...The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. I'm drunk with the love of life. This is the hope I wished for. I prayed for this. This is me...living life again. There may very well be dark days on occasion but now that I know this is possible, those dark days don't scare me anymore.

❤️

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.”
Romans 12:9-10 NIV

The Puzzle

Thu, 05 May 2016 01:30:00 -0600

When you lose your loved one, a giant gaping hole is instantly ripped in your heart. It is ragged and bloody and sends horrible sounds up your throat and out of your mouth. These guttural wails are the initial rages of acute grief...raw and unimaginable. They come of their own free will. There's no rhyme or reason to it. Three months after Mr. Virgo died and I had returned from my journey through the wilderness of Colorado, I was beginning to cook for myself again. I was rummaging in the spice cabinet when I moved a jar aside and saw it. Mr. Virgo's secret stash of jelly beans. There were only a couple handfuls left. I crumpled. I laid my forehead on the counter and wailed. Sounds I didn't know I could make...the ragged sobs coming from someplace deep within like a wounded animal.

In time, the wretched wound began to heal around the edges and take on a somewhat familiar shape...like the missing piece of a puzzle. I tried to stuff anything I could in that hole to stem the bleeding of my soul. I had a couple "relationships"... desperate attempts to replace what I had lost. I soon came to realize the futility of that endeavor. I spent too much, ate too much, traveled too much. I finally swore off adding any new relationships for a year and cut back on everything else.

Somewhere this spring, as the new grass peeked it's fresh green shoots toward the sun and life returned to my winter weary soul, I slowly recognized the shape of that hole in my heart. It is the exact size and shape of my memories of Mr. Virgo. I puzzled over this for days. What would happen if I just took those beautiful memories and slid them right in that space? I tried...and at first it seemed impossible. I turned them this way and that. I had a death grip on them for fear letting go would mean they would slip away from me and no longer be mine. I would lose him, all over again. And...I couldn't bear that. So I had a talk with God.

"What are you doing, my child?"

"Oh, it's YOU! You startled me...I was concentrating."

"Yes, I've been watching you. What you have here is a puzzle."

"It's like one of those puzzle boxes. I have this piece...all my memories of Mr. Virgo. And I can see this hole in my heart here exactly matches. But, try as I might, I can't get it to fit." ***grunting as I push and shove. I finally sit back on my heels in frustration.*** "Can you help me?"

"Ahhhh, I've been waiting for you to ask. You've been really struggling with this. Tell me what is bothering you...why are you holding on so tightly?"

"Because...I'm afraid."

"What is your fear?"

"I'm afraid if I let go, I'll forget him." I hung my head in sadness.

God wrapped His arms around me and said, "I know. It's scary because you aren't remembering something really important."

I look up at the sunset in front of me. "I don't understand. I've remembered everything."

"Look at the sunset that I've given you. Does the shape of the sun ever change?"

"No, of course not."

"You're right. It is the same every single day...even when clouds obscure it from view, the sun is the perfect shape and it still sets...day after day after day. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because, You made it so. I trust that it's there, even when I can't see it."

"Well, if I can make something so big and wonderful as sunsets, don't you think I can help you slip this puzzle piece in and hold it for you?"

"He won't disappear?"

"Did the sun?"

"No."

"I promise, I'll take very good care of your memories. You've been carrying them so tight, you can't do anything else. Here, hand them to Me...let Me slip them in your heart. I'll keep them safe."

I looked down at the package of memories. I could see them in there...our wedding, and standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, and our last Christmas. I could see our laughter, our hands together, our lovemaking on a rainy afternoon in September. I could see the way he looked at me with such love in his eyes. I looked up and said, "Ok. Here. You can have them."

God carefully took that precious bundle, gently took my hands from their grip on the edge, and slipped that perfect piece into the perfect place. It was an exact fit. "It's not going to feel the same as it did before, my child. You'll always feel the rough edges. I put them there to remind you he is here. He will always and forever be right here and you can visit him any time you want, ok?"

I felt lighter. I felt something special had happened. I felt my heart suddenly become full again. God let me fill what had been a ragged, awful, gaping wound with the most perfect package of love and light...my husband. It feels so much better now.

❤

“He has remembered his love and his faithfulness to Israel; all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.”
Psalm 98:3 NIV

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

Tennessee Redbud

Sun, 10 Apr 2016 01:30:54 -0600

This is a wonderful day. I've never seen this one before. ~ Maya Angelou

I can't remember my last difficult day. I no longer pontificate each sadness that washes over me. I haven't had a "bad night" in a few months. I don't hold my breath as much anymore. My tongue is no longer pressed to the back of my teeth in an effort to keep from screaming. My tears are sweet reminders of a precious love instead of gut wrenching sobs of relentless sorrow. There is measurable, palpable relief oozing from my soul.

Thinking back over the last three years, I vacillated between thinking I would never, ever get past this to seeing far off glimpses of light at the end of the tunnel. There's no finite "end" to grief. It is my lot in life. It is what I live with. But it no longer defines me. There was a time in the not so distant past that I led off many new introductions with, "My name is Ginny. I'm a widow." As if it were some sort of 12 Step program and I was stuck on the first one. Grief was my primary language. I remember those days. I remember how painful they were...how confused, frustrated, and flat out angry it made me.

Each day is a beautiful gift. Each experience is an opportunity to stretch beyond who I was yesterday toward who I'll be tomorrow. Each morning is a time of great anticipation and each night brings a moment of quiet reflection and sincere gratitude. And in the middle is "now". These are the days after death row. The sentence has been commuted. These are the days I wanted to know in my heart were coming, but wouldn't have believed were possible.

These are wonderful days. I've never seen them before.

❤️

“This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”
Psalms 118:24 KJV

***Oooooooh...tomorrow's Monday. Something BIG is coming Monday. That's tomorrow, by the way. Be sure you come back and read tomorrow's post.***

Burning the Candle

Wed, 06 Apr 2016 01:30:59 -0600

It was a long day yesterday working on the website and today will be even longer. There was a gentleman sitting at our table at Starbucks where we were working. He overheard our conversation and was asking me questions about what I'm doing. He was interested in my writing. He kept laughing when my "media consultant" aka Hubby #1 and I bantered back and forth with that old familiarity divorced people can sometimes achieve. I introduced myself...and my ex. He stopped and said, "Your ex? I wish my ex and I could get along like that!"

I hear that a lot. "How can you be friends with your ex???" Well, first of all, neither of my exes ever did anything so egregious that it couldn't be forgiven. Second, I wasn't the perfect princess in either one of the marriages that ended in divorce. I was a much better wife the third time around. I had learned a lot in those first two marriages.

We are just people. We are fallible. We make mistakes. Sometimes they're great big ones that cause lasting damage. Sometimes people and situations just...change. What good does it do to carry all that anger and hatred with you to the grave? I know, I know...it isn't easy. No, it is not. But I'm here to tell you it's doable and being nice to each other and treating each other with respect is what we do to all humans. And almost all exes are human.

When ex-Hubby #2 had a new girlfriend.....oooooooh, I hated her. I was so angry, and hurt, and rejected. My heart was broken. But the Rabbi spoke at High Holy Days and said, "It is not enough to ask for God's forgiveness. You must ask the forgiveness of those you sinned against." I thought about this the whole day and finally realized there was no getting around it. I called his girlfriend up, told her who I was...and asked for her forgiveness. I explained the significance of the day and told her I had spoken ill of her in the year before and I needed to ask for her forgiveness. After that, whenever she and my ex came into my mind, instead of feeling hurt and angry, I sent them love and light. I asked God to bless them with abundant love and happiness. They went on to marry and they are truly happy together. This freed me.

Both of my exes have extraordinarily wonderful wives. They married well. They are good, strong women. They are kind and loving. They have great kids. We treat each other with love and respect. With time, effort, and love for our children, we have created a large extended family that gets together for special family events. There's never any fighting. Never a cross word. I love them all.

Forgiveness goes a long way toward getting the life of peace you long for. Is there someone you need to forgive? Anger and resentment are the poison you take hoping that the other person falls ill. Isn't it time to free yourself from all that angst, pain and drama?

❤️

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
Matthew 5:9 NIV

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

Time

Sat, 26 Mar 2016 01:30:30 -0600

Time is a slippery sucker. Just when you think you have a handle on everything...you think you have things figured out...you realize how fluid it is. It's delicate and as fragile as crystal. Yet it's flexible and tenacious.

There are moments that you cannot wait to let go of. When someone has rubbed salt in an open wound, it is so difficult to send that person love and light. But, I have found, that is the only way to release the tentacles of the past and live free of their grasp. When you mark the first angelversary of your loved one's passing, as my new friend and a fellow Rancher did yesterday, you are released from the bondage of the fog and given a small reprieve...much like coming up for air while being swept down the rapids of a raging river. It's only when you get past the roughest section that you realize there's more to go. That's the bitter sweetness of that moment in time. There is more passed than what lies ahead. But...I'm here to tell her...it passes. It passes.

Then there are moments of pure sweetness...small gifts from God and the universe. Moments that you might have missed if you hadn't walked through the flames that burned away any filters and allowed you to actually SEE. Moments that touch your soul and bring life back into you like rain to a desert flower. These are gifts that I gather, hoarding them in my heart lest I suffer another drought.

Time is not our enemy. Time is the Keeper of the Keys.

❤️

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”
Psalm 90:12 NIV

The BEST Advice

Thu, 03 Mar 2016 02:30:58 -0600

As a follow-up to yesterday's question, what was the very BEST advice or remark you received in the days-weeks-months after losing your loved one? What was most helpful, most touching, most understanding?

I'm writing an article on the best and worst things to say to someone who is grieving and you can help me by sharing what helped you the most.

Most people want to say the right things, they just don't know how. Our society encourages us to sweep death and grief under the rug. My aim is to clean house and get the topic out on the table in a loving way.

❤️

“The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.”
Proverbs 12:18 NIV

The Space Between Us

Fri, 29 Jan 2016 02:30:56 -0600

In the moment after Mr. Virgo died, I had no grasp of what had just happened. I mean, one minute we're talking and laughing in the camper, discussing its merits and the next, he was on the floor, uncommunicative. We quickly went from floor to gurney to ambulance to ER to Cardiac Cath Lab to...dead. One hundred eighty minutes, tops. In my shock, I couldn't grasp where he had gone. The sensation that he had just gone shopping without me and he'd be back any minute really stuck with me for awhile. Or, maybe he was at work. Or he went to get his hair cut. But, there came that fateful day when I had to put away all the fantasy and accept he was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

This was replaced with an urgent game of "Send me a sign! Let me know you're still with me." I have been told by my more fundamental Christian friends that he is with God and there will be no interaction, no communication, no whispers or touches, no cold breezes or butterflies or bluebirds, no manipulation of lights and music. They tell me he is gone. And, while I consider myself a Christian, until everyone of those naysayers go to the other side, come back, and call us all together with the absolute facts of what it's like, I'm going to assume there may be some flexibility in the interpretation of "with God".

I have had too many instances since Mr. Virgo died. I cannot believe they just vanish into heaven and we never hear from them again. I call this "The Space Between Us". There is much that occupies this space between us. There's time...the time we have to wait to see them again. The time that has passed since we saw them last. The time when we come close to them for hugs and love and reassurance. The time when they come close to us to see us...to make sure we're ok. The time is felt physically. It's felt emotionally. It's felt intellectually. It's a very real thing, to me anyway.

This "time" between us can be our enemy. We can resent it. It can make us angry. It can cause us pain. And sometimes it does these things when we aren't strong enough to step out of the negative side.

Or this time between us can be a positive thing, if we allow it to be. It's all in how we look at it.

1. I cannot change the nature of time.
2. I can change how I react to it.
3. I can choose what aspect of my beloved's departure I am going to focus on.

As a Christian, the day I die is going to be a glorious thing! I will be met by my beloved family members, angels in their own rights, and escorted to the pearly gates. I will be introduced to St. Peter and spend a little time with the formalities before I get an audience with God...and with Jesus. This is what I know awaits me. This is what Mr. Virgo knew awaited him as well. While I miss Mr. Virgo's physical presence, how can I begrudge him of the most amazing experience any of us who are Christians will ever, ever encounter? I mean....really! He got to see Jesus first! What an amazing, amazing experience that had to have been for him!!! A life's fulfillment for him. And I always wanted him to have everything his heart desired.

Yes. Yes....I still miss that handsome man's company. I always will. But, he occupies the space between us now. He is waiting for me, with Jesus. And someday, when my time here is through...they will reach out their hands for me.

And I will go with them. But in the meantime, I will be the best I can be...here.

❤️

““Am I only a God nearby,” declares the Lord, “and not a God far away? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?” declares the Lord. “Do not I fill heaven and earth?” declares the Lord.”
Jeremiah 23:23-24 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

Kintsukuroi

Thu, 31 Dec 2015 02:30:53 -0600

For centuries, the Japanese have employed kintsukuroi when repairing broken pottery. It literally means "to repair with gold". It is the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

Life breaks us. The "breaking" is not necessarily of your making. Unkindness, loss, abuse, grief, infidelity, betrayal, death....all things that life throws at us. Things we have no control over. They break us. And then God starts working on us...stitching, mending, piecing our hearts and souls back together into something much, much stronger than was there before. He lets us keep the scars so others can see we are conquerors. So we can see where His hand has touched us.

There is nothing beautiful about loss. There is nothing beautiful about the unbearable pain we are forced to endure when we lose someone we love. Nothing. But when I go deep inside and look at my scars, I can see they are intricately woven with strands of pure gold. I can see they are stronger than the surrounding tissue because God wove each thread into exactly the place it needed to be to make me stronger. To me, the fact that God Himself mended my wounds is what brings the beauty.

And...that's a wrap for 2015. A year of surprises, growth, healing, love, adventure, words, pain, and...beauty. Unexpected beauty. Beauty in all the broken places. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here with me for another trip around the sun. I love you all!

Here's to a Happy, Healthy 2016!!!

❤️

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3 NIV

Photo Credit: www.lakesidepottery.com

A Year of Abundance

Tue, 29 Dec 2015 02:30:57 -0600

It's that time of year when we start reflecting on the kind of year we've had and what we want for the coming one. I don't make New Year's Resolutions. But I do create a picture board of intentions that I can look at and create the mindset for the life I want. 2015 is going out better than it came in so that is the mark of a successful year in my estimation. I've had a good year. A year of personal growth, healing, adventure, hope.

January - Things didn't work out on the farm as I had hoped. I was disappointed that I wasn't going to raise chickens or have the experience of working the land of my grandparents, but as it turned out, it was the best thing that could have happened. I was fortunate to house sit for a friend and I occupied a second story walk up in an old Victorian building. I'll never forget the nights sitting wrapped in a blanket in the tower room, staring at the snow falling in the light of the old fashioned street lamps.

February - I moved into my camper in the middle of February when it was bitter cold. There was snow and more snow. I had no running water and my showers were taken at the gym. There were many times I heated water and washed my hair in a dishpan. It was quite the adventure and I found an inner strength I didn't know I had.

March - More snow and cold. The Ohio River froze clear across. The wind chill dropped to -24 and my refrigerator stopped working. I lost a whole fridge/freezer full of food. Out of frustration, I went to a hotel for the weekend and took 15 bubble baths, listened to live music, and ordered in room service. After becoming a human again, I went back to TOW-Wanda. I bought a bike to have something to look forward to in the spring.

April - Spring in WV is amazing. I bought a kayak. I got running water back in the camper. I hauled TOW-Wanda down to Nashville to the Country Living Fair. I danced on the bar at Coyote Ugly! Owwwwoooooooo!

May - Yes.....amazing spring. Biking, kayaking, hiking, farmer's market. I went to the Nelsonville Music Festival.

June/July - Drove to Colorado to spend time with my family. Lots of camping, biking, live music and visiting with friends and family. Celebrated my oldest daughter and husband's 20th wedding anniversary with a huge party.

August - Took the grandkids on a camping trip through Colorado. Went to the Kelly Clarkson concert. Left for a meetup with the Sisters on the Fly in Deadwood, SD.

September - Drove back to WV. Kept busy visiting friends and family and catching up. Then took off for Myrtle Beach. Sat through five days with a total of 25" of rain...like camping in a car wash! Stopped at the New River Gorge for Bridge Days and watched crazy people BASE jump off the bridge to the beach (or sometimes the river) below. Then back to Parkersburg.

October - Beautiful leaves in Indian summer. Cool weather returned. A lot of time was spent writing.

November - Most of the month was writing, then a quick trip to the Eastern Panhandle for Thanksgiving with family. The leaves were gone and there was snow on the northern exposure at the top of North Mountain.

December - My eldest got her Master's from Miami University and I got to see her get her diploma. Mini family reunion with her father and family. Then flew to Colorado. I'll leave tomorrow for the Western Slope to visit my brother and friends. I'll end the year either soaking in a hot spring. Or walking the streets of Aspen watching fireworks off Ajax Mountain. Or toasting with friends. Or snowshoeing through the quiet winter night. I'll know what's right when the time comes.

Yes, 2015 was a busy, blessed year that included lots of live music, lots of love with friends and family, lots of camping and 25,000 miles on the truck, and lots of healing. Lots and lots of healing. Here's to a Happy, Healthy 2016!

❤️

“As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honor your father and mother.’ ” “Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.” Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.””
Mark 10:17-21 NIV

Dear Santa,

Tue, 22 Dec 2015 02:30:27 -0600

It's me...Ginny. Remember? I saw you two years ago. I was so broken. I sat with you and asked you for a new heart. You draped your arm across my shoulder and told me you were so sorry for my loss. You sat there patting my shoulder so patiently as I sobbed. You have no idea how much you helped me get through that first Christmas season without Mr. Virgo. I'll be forever grateful to you.

Last year was difficult as well. Things weren't working out as I had hoped with my aunt out on the farm and I was scrambling to make other living arrangements. I got through it though. And, I had a really interesting winter living in my camper with no running water and wind chills down to -25°. I found out I'm a whole lot tougher than I thought I was!

I'm much better this year. I still get sad sometimes. I still miss that handsome man who made me feel like a princess. But I don't cry as much. I don't hurt quite as bad. And I'm feeling hopeful for a beautiful future. So, this year you don't really need to bring me anything. I don't need a thing except experiences with those I love.

Thank you for bringing out my inner child. Thank you for offering me a warm hug when life felt too cruel to breathe. Thank you for being at the right place at the right time. And, again...thank you for being real.

Your forever friend,
Ginny

❤️

“and those the Lord has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.”
Isaiah 35:10 NIV

The First One Thousand Days

Tue, 08 Dec 2015 02:30:57 -0600

The other day I was messing around with my iPhone trying to figure out how long it had been since something had happened. After adding and calculating and trying to figure out leap years, I figured there had to be an app for that. And there is. Several, in fact. I chose one appropriately called "Days Since" and downloaded it. I figured out my answer then started playing with the app. And, of course, the first date I put in was the date and time Mr. Virgo died. I was stunned to see a monumental day coming soon. So, I set my phone alarm for yesterday afternoon at 3:40 and waited for the time to hit 3:42. One thousand days.

I sat there for a while thinking about what the last 1,000 days have done to me...with me...for me. And, more importantly, what I have done with THEM. What have I done with those 1,000 days Mr. Virgo didn't get to have? Have I used them wisely? How many have I wasted? What do I have to show for those tragically broken days? And the beautiful ones? What would I have done differently?

What have I learned? Ahhhhh, grasshoppa. That is the question.
I have learned how to die and live through it. I have learned it is possible to pick your heart up out of burning embers and breathe life back into it. I have learned you can hear God even when you're screaming. I have learned to be still. I have learned you cannot cry yourself to death no matter how hard you try. I have learned to trust myself more and others maybe not quite so much. I have learned to trust God implicitly. I have learned who my closest friends are. I have learned how much my family and friends love me. I have learned how to let go of people, places, and things that no longer serve me. I have learned to say "No". I have learned to say "Hell, no!" I have learned not to feel guilty about either one.

I have learned to paddle a kayak and hook up a camper and back it up perfectly. I have learned that emptying a black water tank isn't the huge big deal I thought it was. I have learned how to break into my camper when I lock myself out. Actually, I learned that four times. I have learned to love my GPS.

I have learned not to listen to sad country music on rainy summer evenings. I have learned not to open a bottle of Halston No. 10 unless I want to cry. I have learned to wear his leather bomber jacket and my wedding band when I want to feel close to him. I've learned I love it when others say his name and tell me how much they miss him. I've learned Christmas will never be the same. My life will never be the same. The world will never be the same. How could it be? One thousand days ago, a heart as big as the ocean stopped beating. But...I've learned mine did not. I've learned to trust there is a reason for that. I have work to do here. I have stories to tell. I have beauty to find. I have love to give.

I have learned to have hope.

I have learned to live.

I have learned there is so much more to learn. I'll report back after the second one thousand days to tell you what that is.

❤️

“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