Uplifting Stories on Marshmallow Ranch

Girl Time

Tue, 04 Mar 2025 02:30:00 -0600

“Big” turned 21 on Saturday. I know, right? How can the time pass so quickly? I try to catch her every Sunday evening when I’m checking in on the family. She showed me pictures of her and her friends hiking a cliff trail overlooking the beach. We chatted about her girlfriends and her roommates and it reminded me to share a piece of advice I give to all young women “coming of age.”

“Nurture your friendships with other women. Trust me…you will need them.”

What’s that old adage? People come into your life for a reason, a season, and a lifetime. In reality, only a handful of folks tick all three boxes. I lost one of my longest lifelong friends a little over a year ago. My closest lifelong friend came into my life when we were 16 and we still text or call several times a week. She’s quick to set me straight if I swerve off course and she loves me fiercely.

There are friends that you’re close to and even though you don’t see or talk to each other often, when you get together, you pick up the conversation like no time had passed. There are friends that for one reason or another, drift away and you wish them well but you let them go.

I’ve always loved my children and grandchildren, but I relate to them so much more now that they’re getting older. My West Virginia kids and grandkids didn’t come into my life till they were adults. And now we’re getting great-grandchildren. It warms my heart when I can impart some wisdom and they’re receptive. They’re so precious.

I went to knitting group yesterday and we were the usual group of four this time. We meet at Colleen’s house and I am always excited to see her holiday decorations. She keeps a white pencil tree in her dining room and changes the decorations for every holiday. She has her St. Patrick’s Day decor out now and it won’t be long till she changes over to Easter. I’m not that dedicated. I just got Christmas put away a couple of weeks ago. That’s enough for me.

When I got home from knitting, I started working on the bread. I baked three loaves plus a loaf of pepperoni bread. That was just an experiment so I’m looking forward to seeing how it turned out. I cut a slice for Mr. FixIt and myself while the bread was still warm. Oh, my…I think I’ve finally perfected this recipe!

It’s supposed to get up near 70° here tomorrow and a low of 56° during the night so I’m going “camping” out in the field. Camping without spending a dime…that’s perfect and I can’t wait!

☘️

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

***Gratitude Journal***   
Today I am grateful for the girlfriends in my life…old and new. They keep me grounded. They keep me sane. They keep me laughing.

The Matriarch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am the matriarch now.

🩵

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

#Matriarch, #Aging, #PositiveAging, #InternationalWomensDay

This is My Heart

Sat, 24 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

This guy right here…he’s been mine since the day I was born. I’m not sure my mom knew anything was wrong with Bubby till I was around two years old. A lot came down on my mom around then. Her brother was killed in a plane crash in Germany. And they told her my big brother had Cerebral Palsy and had intellectual disabilities. It was a hard time for her…for all of us. So much sadness. I didn’t understand what any of that meant at the time. He was just my Bubby. I was his champion. I interpreted his speech for others. I protected him from bullies. He was my whole world and I’ve loved him forever.

Remember when I told you a couple of weeks ago that I had a couple of special people with health issues? One of them was my Bubby. They called me on a Wednesday afternoon and they told me he was in the ambulance heading to the hospital. His nurse said it was dire and could I come right away? Traveling from West Virginia to Colorado in the winter is wicked awful and bloody expensive. Of COURSE I would go, but I asked her to please wait to see what the ER doctor said. Thank God they were able to give him medication and get him straightened up, but the kept him overnight for observation, just to be sure he was ok.

He’s fine now. It was an abnormal heart rate due to a medication change. This time. But I know it’s likely there will be a time when I’ll have to make that emergency trip to be with him when he needs me. I can’t bring him here. It’s a matter of funding. If he changes to West Virginia funding, it could take ten years to find a placement. He’s much better being where he is with people who know him and love him.

We had his annual review Thursday and it did my heart good to see him happy and doing well. We are both enjoying seeing each other on the Echo Show a couple of times a week. And, we’ll see him this summer during our annual trip to Colorado. In the meantime, the staff sends me pictures from time to time so I can see what he’s been up to. His latest adventure is ROCK CLIMBING!

Isn’t this the coolest thing???

Oh….my heart!

🩵

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

Have I Got a Story for You!

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

We lazed around the campsite yesterday morning. I fixed sausage and eggs and heated up some leftover corn cakes for breakfast. Mr. FixIt looked on his phone to see what was nearby. The largest state park in Pennsylvania is only eight miles from here so we picked up around camp and headed to explore.

Camp hair…don’t care!

Raccoon Creek State Park encompasses 7,572 acres of mixed forest with lots of trails. Located just 30 miles from Pittsburg, the park is a haven for avid outdoor enthusiasts hiking, biking, cross-country skiing, camping, swimming, fishing, and boating. While there is a large pool at the entrance to the park that includes a long, twisting water slide, Raccoon Lake is a lovely place to fish and play in and on the water. There are boat rentals available, but it is too late in the season for those activities. We really loved the spacious campground with lots of level sites. We drove around and took pictures of the sites that appealed to us and plan to camp there sometime next year.

Now…I have a great story to tell you!

Remember last week when we camped on the river? We met these really nice folks from Lewisburg…Sandy and Todd. As we talked with them, it occurred to us we had camped beside them…in the same two sites…sometime in the last few years. We think it must have been 2017 or 2018. Anyway, we figured if we’d run into each other twice in the same place, it was fate that we exchange info and keep in touch, right?

Well…keep in touch, we did. Yesterday, Sandy sent me a text with a photo…a screenshot of a post she had put on her Facebook page back in 2014 with the message, “Was this by any chance you I met in 2014?”

I looked at the photo closely. Hmmmm….

Holy Cats!!!!

That’s my camper…BIG TOW-WANDA! I was towing it with my Ford Expedition. Shortly after this, I traded it in for the F-150. The photo was taken in the parking lot of the Best Western Hotel. I cannot remember what I was doing there that day. The only thing I can surmise is I was working a shift for someone. I was indeed getting ready to head across the country to live on the farm and help my elderly aunt.

Sandy and Todd were staying at the hotel as they were on a cross country train trip and Amtrak goes right through Glenwood Springs. I only have a vague memory of meeting them. I do remember talking to a couple about Lewisburg and asking if they knew my friend Nan and, of course…they did.

What are the odds of this??? Astronomical! But nothing is out of the realm of possibilities when God is at work. He places us all in paths to cross with others. And now, He’s placed me and Sandy and Todd in the same place at the same time…three times…thousands of miles apart! I’m still flabbergasted. I wish we had taken a photo together when we were camping last week, but we decided we’ll have lunch together the next time we come though Lewisburg, so one of these days…you will see a follow up story!

Back to what’s happening here…something is up with Facebook and I cannot see the comments you leave, which makes me really sad. I love hearing from you so, until they fix the problem, please feel free to send me a private message with your comments. I so enjoy interacting with you all…especially about this story. I can’t wait to hear from you! Have any of you had a similar experience? Let me know!

“Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all.”
Ecclesiastes 9:11 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

Ask, and Ye Shall Receive

Wed, 19 May 2021 01:30:00 -0600

The Last Morning at The Farm

The last twenty-four hours I could say the farm was mine offered a hundred lessons. I always write at night before I go to bed, but it was afternoon when I wrote yesterday’s post. Something nudged me to get it out of the way so I could just experience the evening and enjoy the peace and quiet...uninterrupted.

Funny.

I was propped up on my pillows as always, listening to the night sounds outside the window, when I noticed a humming noise. I walked all over the house to find it and it was coming from the furnace. I’ve heard it before without thinking anything of it, but this time it seemed louder...probably because I wasn’t writing and I was concentrating on sound. I went back upstairs and moved the thermostat slightly and in that moment, the power went out.

The old house still has the screw in fuses so, using the flashlight on my phone, I went into the kitchen to get the box of fuses and took them out on the front porch where the fuse box is. I checked every fuse and none were blown so I came back in the house. A few minutes later, I heard the neighbors across the road outside, looking around with a flashlight. I called over to them and, sure enough, it wasn’t just our house...the power was out up and down the road.

I went back inside, crawled in bed and now...it was REALLY quiet no house sounds, no reassuring hum that things are working ok...just night sounds. I had to laugh at the irony. I’m a bit of a drama queen...in all the best forms of the word. I’m a writer, so I have a certain...dramatic flair. God made sure I didn’t have any distractions that last night in the house.

The power came back on around 4:00am and I drifted in and out of sleep till the sun hit the top of the far hill across the road. I didn’t lollygag around...I had work to do. I got up and started putting things in the truck when the auctioneer called to say he needed me out of the house to show it to potential buyers. I was packed, had breakfast, and headed for home by 9:30.

Yesterday was our first hot day. Mr. FixIt was busy pressure washing the picnic table he bought for my first birthday together. We brought it home from the farm and it needed a good scrubbing. While he was busy with that, I started unpacking the truck and putting things away. As the day went on, I wasn’t feeling well. I had a suspicion I had one of those fairly common “ladies issues” that may need antibiotics, so when I was finished emptying the truck, I grabbed my purse and told Mr. FixIt I was running over to the quick care clinic in our little town.

I was hot, dirty, sweating buckets, and on the way there...I had a full blown anxiety attack. My heart was pounding. I was sure I was going to have to pull over and be sick. I could hardly stand to sit in the waiting room with my mask on because I couldn’t breathe. They called me back and weighed me and I almost fell over. I’ve crossed my boundary by nearly two pounds. My head started throbbing. I thought I’d cry. The nice lady asked me to sit on the table so she could check my blood pressure. I half-jokingly told her I was sure it was high because I was really anxious at the moment. Yeah...it was 167/100. Now I really wanted to cry. I just wanted my antibiotic and go home.

While I waited for the doctor to come in, I closed my eyes and slowed down my breathing and attempted to calm down. I knew what this was all about...I’d been working hard trying to avoid having too much time to think about things. And, grief avoided has to come out sometime. Mine chose in the truck on the way to a doctor I didn’t know.

There was a quiet tap on the door and a tiny little woman came in...young, dark hair pulled back, concern in her eyes. She introduced herself then sat down across from me in her scrubs, crossed her legs like she was preparing to meditate, folded her hands in her lap and said...softly.

“What’s troubling you today?”

Oh, empathy...it opened the floodgates and I told her how hard I’d been working and how the farm is being sold even as we speak and I couldn’t buy it because I’m too old to do the kind of work it needs and it’s not mine to begin with but it’s the home of my heart and it’s just killing me to let it go.

She handed me a wad of tissues.

“It sounds like it’s been really stressful. Especially because it’s all happening TO you, you know? You don’t really have any control in it, do you? You’re grieving a loss as important to you as your loved ones.”

I laughed and said, “Yeah, and I write about grief! I should learn to listen to my own words.”

She smiled. “You know then...it’s hard to face grief. But, face it now, or face it later.”

We talked for a while and it turned out I didn’t need antibiotics...I needed more fluids because I’d been working hard to avoid thinking and ended up forgetting to drink and I was pretty dehydrated. We came up with a plan that would make me feel better, and I headed home. I finally sat down in front of Mr. FixIt and unloaded and told him how upset I was.

I took a cool shower, turned on the AC, and lay down for a nap. I had a dream. I’ve never dreamed of my Aunt Peeps before. She’s the elderly aunt that I came to the farm to help in the first place. She passed away a year ago. In my dream, I was walking through the farmhouse and she popped her head around the corner in the kitchen. She was young, her hands didn’t shake. Her hair was brown and in curlers. She was wearing her signature one-piece jump suit that she always worked in. She had a skillet in one hand, a spatula in the other and she jumped in surprise.

“Oh! It’s YOU!” Then, in her very best teacher voice, she said, “You need to just settle down, child. It’s going to be just fine!”

With that, I woke up. I reached over and picked up the phone. 8:07pm. The auction was over. My cousin Becky texted. “Did the people you really like buy the place?”

I was almost afraid to look. I told you about them in Sunday morning’s post, and I told you there was more to the story. The lovely couple came and I immediately had a good feeling about them. We shared stories about the old home places in our lives. I suggested they should try to buy the farm. They said they wanted to so they would have more room for family when they come for visits. I told them how very attached I am to the place and how I come there often to recharge and write. They said, “Well...this will work out great! You can come here whenever we aren’t needing the place. Just keep your key!” We talked about God and how He puts us in the right places at the right times. When we parted, I called after them...”Don’t forget...we’re going to pray on this!” He told me their names...I smiled and said, “Nah...from now on, you’re Frank & Beans! Everyone who ever came to this house when my grandma was alive got a nickname.” They laughed and said the name was actually quite appropriate.

I finally worked up the nerve to go look to see who had the winning bid and my heart soared! I know it’s not official till papers are signed and all, but....

Welcome to The Farm, Frank & Beans!!! I know you’re going to love it just as much as we all have!!! Now I can relax knowing “home” is not so distant from me after all and I’ve made some forever friends.

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”
Romans 8:28 ESV

In a Matter of Moments

Sat, 17 Apr 2021 01:30:00 -0600

Whenever we head out on a long road trip, I am always careful to ask God for travel mercies and you all are always so good about praying for us, too. I wanted to let you know how well those prayers worked.

We left home about 9:15 yesterday morning and took the cat to the Kitty Hilton. We stopped for a breakfast sandwich and complained that the line was so long. But, we stuck it out, got our meal, and I almost pulled out of the parking lot to eat on the road. Instead, I thought better of it and we pulled into a parking space to enjoy breakfast.

We got on the road just a couple of minutes before 10:00 and headed south on the interstate. We came around a turn and I could see something white lying over on the tree line. I immediately slowed down. Two cars had just pulled over and put their flashers on. There was a man walking near what we found was a semi tractor trailer laying on its side. The trailer was ripped open and a white “mist” was rising from the opening. I looked back at the road and saw dirt and grass from the median where the truck dragged it across both lanes.

There were NO tire tracks through the dirt!

That meant, the truck had literally crossed our path minutes before we came through there. It turns out, the load in the trailer was some sort of hazardous substance that can cause difficulties breathing if exposed to it. If we hadn’t waited in the line and taken a few moments to eat before driving...it could have been disastrous. I keep a cross hanging from the rear view mirror of my truck. I immediately reached up, grabbed that cross, and thanked God for keep us all safe.

There are so many petty annoyances we go through every day and we may grouse and grump about them incessantly. But, it’s very important to remember...sometimes that delay was to keep you from being hurt....or from hurting someone else. A little gratitude goes a long way...even when things aren’t working out just as you planned!

???

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor the destruction that wastes at noonday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only look with your eyes and see the recompense of the wicked. Because you have made the Lord your dwelling place— the Most High, who is my refuge — no evil shall be allowed to befall you, no plague come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone. You will tread on the lion and the adder; the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot. “Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.””
Psalm 91:1-16 ESV

Day 330: God is Listening...All the Time

Tue, 09 Feb 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Yesterday was a busy day, and one that reminds me of the power of prayer. First, I had to run into town to get my eyes tested. I have the very beginnings of cataracts...who doesn’t at this age, right? And, my prescription didn’t change but just the tiniest bit. Not enough to warrant buying new glasses, but I did order a pair of prescription bifocal sunglasses. I haven’t had a pair for ages. The last ones I had got ruined when I sprayed insect repellent or sunscreen or something on and it got on the lenses. It took the coating off and there was no way to fix them. And they were really expensive. Mr. FixIt buys his glasses from Zenni Optical online. You have to explain to your optometrist that you’re on a fixed budget and you need to have them give you your prescription and measure the pupil distance. Then you can order online and it’s a lot cheaper.

I got home in time for a Zoom interview for my friend, Joe Webb’s podcast. Joe is a Methodist Minister and leads a very interesting ministry. I used to attend on Sunday nights at the brew pub up in Marietta, Ohio. Then they went totally online after the pandemic hit. The folks love the online format so much, they’ve elected to keep it on Zoom which opens a lot of avenues. The group has gotten larger and has spread over a much larger geographical area. I spoke to his group a couple of times over the years, but it’s been quite a while since we’ve had a chance to catch up. It will go live on 3/5 and I will leave a link for you when it’s up.

I no sooner closed my iPad from the Zoom interview when my friend Janine called with an update on her niece. She is the one I asked for urgent prayers for Sunday night. She did have an aneurysm with a brain bleed. They did surgery to relieve the pressure, but it was too involved to fix. They needed to do a C-Section to get the baby delivered healthy first. The baby is fine and will go home with grandma and grandpa tomorrow. At 3:00 yesterday morning, Lauren had to be rushed back into the OR to relieve the pressure again, but this time, they didn’t feel she was strong enough to go through the prolonged surgery so it was put off again.

After people all over the world came together urgently and prayed for Lauren and she was back in ICU, her husband went in to see her yesterday morning and...she opened her eyes, talked to him, and has NO PARALYSIS! That right there is an absolute miracle, my friends. I could hardly wait to share the news with you. She still needs to have the surgery to correct the aneurysm itself, but she has come so far! Please continue to keep Lauren, and Josh, and baby, and the family in your prayers.

““Unless you people see signs and wonders,” Jesus told him, “you will never believe.””
John 4:48 NIV

Day 299: Salve to a Sore Place

Sat, 09 Jan 2021 02:30:00 -0600

Whenever my grandma hit a rough patch, she’d look for something to ease her soul and afterwards, she’d say, “‘Deed, that’s like salve to a sore place.” It might be a chat with a friend on the front porch, or hugging her babies around the neck, or sitting in her window chair reading her Bible. Whatever came her way, it didn’t take her too long till she had herself lifted back up by the bootstraps and off she went a’runnin’ again.

Last year was rough, but even with the rough stuff, there were many moments of joy that lifted my spirits. Then this week hit, and I’m not going to lie...I’ve had a hard time. Being the person who’s always the cheerleader, I wasn’t sure how I was going to come back in here today and talk to y’all. I just didn’t know where to start or what to talk about. There’s just too, too much and Lord knows there’s enough of it “out there”. I didn’t want it “in here”. So...I went looking for that same energy my grandma gave me whenever I needed a little salve for my sore places.

I started out on YouTube listening to worship music then I turned back in time to old timey hymns. I clicked on a couple of black and white documentaries done in 1965 back in the mountains of North Carolina, visiting Appalachian musicians. One I really liked, but early in the movie, they’re following along with some old feller who was hunting groundhogs and I didn’t think y’all would appreciate that so I moved on.

Finally, I stumbled onto an interview of an old Appalachian woman named Ruby and I knew I had what I was looking for. I sat there watching, mesmerized by Ruby’s distinctive accent, talking about the way she was raised and the kind of life she’s lived and I was transported to all those many times my grandma and I sat on the front porch out at the farm...she telling me stories while we strung halfrunner beans to can.

Ruby looks off at her land and can’t set her eyes on anything she doesn’t own and she knows peace. She knows Jesus. She knows how to take care of herself. And she knows how to lift herself up by playing Amazing Grace on her guitar every night before bed. I sat on the edge of our bed, listening to her beautiful story as I brushed and braided my hair before bed, and realized...I wasn’t quite as scared as I was when I first sat down to write.

This big old world was here long before I got here. It’s going to be here long after I’m gone. We’ve lived through troubled times before...we’ll get through these as well. Good Lord willin’ and the creeks don’t rise. In the meantime, may this little slice of Appalachian goodness be salve to your sore places today.

You can see Ruby’s interview HERE.

“When his people pray for help, he listens and rescues them from their troubles. The Lord is there to rescue all who are discouraged and have given up hope.”
Psalms 34:17-18 CEV

Day 290: The Story of What Might Have Been

Thu, 31 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

When I sat down to write last night, I closed my eyes and let my breath go deep and slow. I often do this when I’m “fishing”...trying to find just the right story to tell you today. This is the last day of 2020. Lord, what a year it has been. We know where we’ve been. We know where we are now. And, we hope we have a good idea where we’re going in the coming 365 days.

We’ve all been here before, resting on the cusp of a New Year...hope this one will be better than the last. Or as good as. Or totally different. We have different hopes and dreams. We see ourselves through different lenses, yet we truly have more in common than we have differences. Well, beyond ideological, of course. In that, we have a lot of healing to do, I’m afraid.

As I rest on this ledge, preparing to dive into yet another year, I take inventory of how different it all could have been. In 2011, Mr. Virgo and I found ourselves at a crossroads of sorts. We managed to get through the Great Recession of 2008 when we lost half of our portfolio. We were blessed we didn’t lose more, but even after three years, jobs weren’t all that stable. We had already had our travel adventure where we lived in Pagosa Springs for a year, and the Denver Metro area for two more. We hated Denver and it was wearing us out. We wanted to go home, so we moved back to the house I had built on the Western Slope a decade before.

It took a while to get a job. It was summer and we hadn’t had a vacation for years. We made an executive decision...repair the landscaping and take a trip to West Virginia to meet what was left of my family. Oh, I loved it so much...and my desire to move back home was stronger than ever. Mr. Virgo and I had a dream of owning a Bed & Breakfast as our “retirement job” and properties in the Mountain State were so much more affordable than Colorado. While we were visiting, we started looking at suitable properties to convert.

The historical area of Parkersburg is called the Julia-Anne Square. Stately Victorian mansions line the streets steeped with history and drama of days gone by. We were particularly smitten by a certain house and we felt it might be perfect...but it wasn’t on the market. The following summer, when I made a trip to West Virginia alone, lo and behold...the “Purple House” was on the market...and at a price that seemed incredibly doable.

Then, two things happened. First, my realtor friend Geni took me to see it and....lands, did it need work! LOTS of work. The fact that it was filled with the current owner’s tchotchkes from floor to ceiling and the walls were covered in a stark green and white English Ivy print wallpaper was pretty overwhelming. The bigger disappointment was when Mr. Virgo divulged...he really didn’t want to move back East. He grew up in Philadelphia. He lived the majority of his adult life on the East Coast, primarily Florida. He just couldn’t face going back to the humidity and heat that is a West Virginia summer.

I was so disappointed. But it was one of those compromises you make when you’re married. It wasn’t till sometime after his untimely and sudden death in early 2013 that I realized God takes things away from us for a reason. If we had bought the big Victorian house, renovated it, and opened it as a B&B, I would have been left running all of that on my own while juggling my own grief. I wouldn’t have been free to buy that little camper and head off to the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for the three months that changed the course of my life.

So, when I opened my eyes last night, and turned on my iPad to write, I opened Facebook and the very first thing that popped up was...a video tour of the “Purple House”! It’s on the market again and the current owners have done a tremendous job fixing it up inside. I leaned back,took a deep breath, and hit play. I watched the story of “What My Life Could Have Been” play out on the screen. I looked at those stairs and thought, “Wow, those would be killer now...for me AND for Mr. FixIt.” The house is still really cool...and looks SO much better without all that hideous wallpaper. I’ve gotta say...those purple carpets upstairs have to go, as well as the blue living room.

I can look at this house now and say, “This is what could have been. But I am so incredibly grateful for what I have.” Mr. FixIt and I have birthed a new life together that is happy and fun and challenging (in all the right ways) and adventurous and so easygoing. We have five acres to play on and a camper to travel in and a life to love in. I love my life.

I thought I’d share the tour with you, so you can see where I might have been, had things gone differently ten years ago. The house itself is worth the share.

You can see the video HERE.

You can see the Realtor’s Listing HERE.

I hope you have a safe and healthy evening planned. Here’s to celebrating the end of the world’s longest year and hoping for the very best for 2021!!! Thank you all so much for being here with me for yet another year. Writing this blog is sort of like the “Letters from Home” that my grandma used to send us every week. Full of my stories, my hope, my faith, and most of all...my heart. I am grateful for each and every one of you!

“Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.””
Hebrews 13:5 NIV

Day 284: Special Delivery...Just in Time for Christmas!

Wed, 23 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I’ve been feeling kinda blue about Christmas this year. Covid has us sequestered and the kids all feel like they could just as well be on the moon. Top that with our firm commitment NOT to buy each other gifts this year and the season has just been...blah. I certainly have no complaints about the gift thing. We bought ourselves new recliners this year. Then the microwave went out and we replaced that. We had a trip to the beach in October. And there was an unexpected assessment on the condo this year, so we figured that was plenty. There really isn’t anything we really need anyway.

I’ve been so blessed to have all this time and supplies to do so much canning this year and those things don’t come cheap. But there’s only so much room in the kitchen and I’ve long since run out of space to store my small appliances. There are the shelves in the basement where I can store them but I know just as soon as I cart them downstairs, I’ll need one of them. Some of them are fairly heavy and unwieldy. An idea has been bouncing around in my mind for the last several weeks.

My dear friend Ryb had a beautiful piece of furniture built in her Colorado kitchen to store her small appliances and baking pans. I always admired that, and vowed someday to have one. Then, divorce took away my big country kitchen and the house I built was just too small for such a cumbersome piece. Segue to 2020 and the Ponderosa. Another country kitchen, but still not enough room to house all my kitchen gadgets. I’ve been scouring Facebook Marketplace for something that might work but nothing was catching my eye. So, I did what I always do...I gave it to God and went about my business.

Yesterday morning, I was having my coffee when a notification came across my phone...from Mr. FixIt...who was sitting on the other side of the living room.

“Look at this,” he said.

It was a three piece, solid wood bookcase cabinet combo. An early entertainment center, really. But lovely. Country styling. Light oak. Interesting. I figured it would be way more than I wanted to pay. I kinda had a price in mind...$300.

“Nice! How much to they want for that?”

“$300!”

“Each piece?”

“No...total!”

We looked at each other and smiled. I texted the lady and made arrangements and by 8:00 last night, the office was cleaned out, the furniture was in it, and it was holding all my appliances! I mean...if I would have measured out the space I needed to house my stuff, I couldn’t have done any better than this! It is so solid and heavy (thank you Harry and Joe for helping bring it home!) Seriously, it took three men to get it over here.

As I carted my appliances from the floor of our dining room into the office adjacent to the kitchen, I placed each one in just the perfect spot. And with each trip, my heart got lighter and lighter. Because, I realize how truly blessed I am. I know there are people struggling mightily this year to just put food on the table. We are blessed this pandemic hit when we were retired and not when we were trying to raise a family. But, mostly...my heart was light because God always provides us with what we need.

Did I NEED that piece of furniture? No, I did not. Did it brighten my heart and fill me with a sense of awe that God hears us? Yes, it did. God isn’t a Sears & Roebuck Catalog. You don’t just send out wishes and He fills them like the genie in the lamp. But He provides and wants to hear from us about all our hopes and dreams and wishes. Sometimes He says no...a LOT of times He says no. But...sometimes He says yes! We have been so blessed to be able to help out food banks and assist a few people during these trying times. This gift makes it easier for me to be organized and cook and provide for others without breaking the bank so that we CAN keep helping others. I am so humbled that God is so good.

“You will be blessed in every way, and you will be able to keep on being generous. Then many people will thank God when we deliver your gift.”
2 Corinthians 9:11 CEV

Day 279: Be Careful What You Wish For

Fri, 18 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

I was browsing photos in a Facebook Group I belong to the other day. It was one of those “You Might Be From __________ If...” pages. People post stories and photos. There are a precious few of the “old guard” who grew up and know those pictured. But there are far more who come on and say... “Does anyone recognize the people in this photo?” Those are the sad ones because the elders are dying off without labeling the photos or teaching the young’uns who were in them.

My grandma was pretty good about writing the names of folks on the back with the stub of a pencil, most likely whittled to a point with my PopPop’s pen knife. This particular photo caught my eye because I’ve seen it all my life. It’s the old one room schoolhouse that was a couple of miles from the farm. My mom and one of her brothers are in that photo and I smiled at the memories that came rushing back to me.

We have that photo somewhere in the family archives, and now, thanks to modern technology, I have it safely ensconced in my iPad and the Cloud. I can still see Grandma in her rocking chair by the front window, looking through her “picture book” and walking down memory lane. She would point and name everyone, then tell a story or share their nickname. Everyone had a nickname. Just yesterday, my baby cousin asked me what Grandma’s name was for me. I was “Ginny Lynny” or just “Pet”. She was “Trinket”.

This particular photo was taken shortly after the Great Depression. I want to say it was around 1936-37, judging by the size of my mom and her brother. When Grandma saw pictures like this, she shared with me the hard stories. Stories of struggles and just trying to get by. She would tear up when she said their milk cow was the only thing standing between her children living or dying of starvation. They never wasted a thing. Shoes were resoled at home because there wasn’t money for a cobbler. Clothes were sewn from flour sacks and mended and handed down. Grandma had a baby every two years till she nearly died after the last one and they saved her life with an emergency hysterectomy.

It was right around this time when Grandma and PopPop managed to scrape enough money together to buy the farm that I still take care of. When they moved down off the hill into that house, Grandma said she felt like a queen in a castle! She didn’t have running water or an indoor bathroom for twenty more years. They had an old wringer washer with a hit and miss engine out on the back porch. My earliest memories are of Grandma carrying buckets of rainwater she heated on the stove and pouring it in the washer.

She used lye she made from ashes and mixed it with rendered fat from butchering to make soap that was used for everything. Wash was done once a week. You started with the delicates when the water was still clean and soft and you ended with work clothes. PopPop worked in the pipe yard on old oil and gas well pipe and parts. He was always sticky and stinky with black creosote and a hard day’s sweat when he got home. Those work clothes had to be boiled and scrubbed on a washboard by hand to get the most of the grease out of them. I remember they were always an army green or khaki color.

Once the clothes were as clean as they were going to get, Grandma used the rinse water to scrub the floors of the house and the last bit was thrown out on the porch and worked with a broom to get what mud they could off the steps. It was a hard life she lived, working from sunup to sundown doing as much hard work as any man, then mending clothes and sewing on buttons at night after supper.

I look at that picture of my mom as a little girl, and I’m humbled. The “going back in time” I get to do at the farm at my age is a walk in the park compared to actually living the life they lived. You hear people say “It was a simpler time.” Simpler? Be careful what you wish for. Simpler in those day meant they didn’t have the time sucks we have now. They didn’t have TV and computers. They were lucky to see a newspaper or a magazine. They didn’t know what was happening in Asia or the Middle East or Africa unless a missionary happened to be traveling through trying to raise a little money for an orphanage somewhere. However, their lives consisted of hard work and more than their fair share of sadness. And fortunately, I come from the kind of people whose glasses were always full to overflowing and I heard of all the goodness of life.

What are we giving our children’s children’s children to know about those who came before us? What are we handing down from our great grandparents’ days? What are we teaching them about long lost skills like growing our own food and preserving it or making our own clothes and tools? Part of the purpose of this blog is sharing the past along with the stories of the present. You’ve followed along in my grief journey after losing Mr. Virgo. You’ve been here for the adventures in the camper and traveling the country as a widow trying to heal my broken heart, one campfire at a time. You shared in my joy when I found love again with my best friend from high school and remarried. Interspersed with all these events are the stories of my roots. I share them with you here because many of you grew up with similar lives and they spark your own memories. Some of you couldn’t dream of living such a life and it’s like reading a history book. So, why do I share so much of myself and my family’s history?

Because...one day, I’ll be dead and gone, and my grandchildren and their grandchildren’s children will read these stories and know from whence they came. I don’t have great material wealth to leave to my family...to the world. All I have are my experiences and my knowledge and my wisdom...the lessons I’ve learned along the way.

I’m the storyteller.

“Love should always make us tell the truth. Then we will grow in every way and be more like Christ, the head of the body. Christ holds it together and makes all of its parts work perfectly, as it grows and becomes strong because of love.”
Ephesians 4:15-16 CEV

Day 275: Going on a Treasure Hunt

Mon, 14 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Some of Mr. FixIt’s Heirlooms

A friend of Mr. FixIt’s called him the other day, looking for a collectible and hoping he might have one. They worked together at an internationally known tool making plant. Every so often, the plant would create belt buckles or commemorative medallions and people would buy them along with the velvet lined cases to display them in. I tease my sweetheart and tell him he has in his possession everything he has ever owned, and a lot of what used to belong to someone else. This often comes in handy when we need something specific. And, on occasion, it leads us on an interesting treasure hunt.

After supper last night, Mr. FixIt came in with one of his treasure boxes and sat down to sort through. He knows I love those kinds of things so he set aside anything he thought I might be interested in and showed them to me. There were some amazing tintype photos of his ancestors. What incredible treasures these kinds of things are! I could see the family resemblance, even in the grandchildren. There was a small box among the photos and old Cross pen and pencil sets and in it was something interesting.

It looked all the world to be a gold Victorian hair pin, but it had a fine chain with a small clasp on the end to hook onto something. I puzzled over what this could possibly be when I realized...There is a world of information on the internet...just waiting to be found. I Googled “ladies hairpin with fine chain” and...voila...up popped the exact pin I was holding in my hand! The internet can be a marvelous tool.

In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, there were spectacles called pince-nez (pronounced pas’nay), which is French for “pinch nose.” They didn’t have earpieces and were held on by gently pinching the bridge of the nose to hold them on. However, they often slipped off. These delicate chains served two purposes...they were fashionable and they kept the expensive prescription lenses from falling on hard surfaces and breaking.

Teddy Roosevelt popularized the pince-nez and fashionable ladies and gentlemen followed suit. I shared this information with Mr. FixIt and he said he might have a pair in one of his boxes. He carried another in and sure enough...there they were! I have no idea if they belonged together. I went back and looked at the tintypes that were tucked away with these treasures, but I couldn’t find a woman wearing them.

Mr. FixIt’s Great Great Grandmother

I marvel at things like this. My ancestors were simple country folk. Their spectacles were gold wire with rimless glass lenses. They were lucky to have one pair that had to last till they literally couldn’t see before they bought new. I have found a couple of old tintypes of ancestors, but I have no idea who they were. I felt like I had a little glimpse into my husband’s ancestry...like peeking through a time machine to days of old...to espy those whose progeny would eventually create the man I know and love.

I’m a little bit of a treasure hunter myself. Our true treasures are not that which we gather here on earth. Those who owned these trinkets couldn’t take them where they were going. Heavenly treasures are the only ones you can keep. But trinkets and mementos are great fun to share and learn about your history.

“Don't store up treasures on earth! Moths and rust can destroy them, and thieves can break in and steal them. Instead, store up your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy them, and thieves cannot break in and steal them. Your heart will always be where your treasure is.”
Matthew 6:19-21 CEV

Day 158: Burning Down My Memories

Sun, 23 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I was a new widow when I bought my first camper. A little 16’ job with everything I needed. I miss that little camper...the original TOW-Wanda. I still regret trading her in for the big behemoth I own now, but...water under the bridge, you know.

I always wanted a camper although I had never pulled one. I camped in a tent a couple of times and once drove cross country in an old VW Poptop Van, but actually having my own camper eluded me.

I tried to get Hubby #2 to buy one and he refused. It never occurred to me to go out and buy one myself. I wasn’t brave enough to do such a thing back then. But Mr. Virgo understood my wanderlust and, while not an avid camper himself, was anxious to see that I got to do all the fun things I wanted.

When he died suddenly while we were looking at the camper for our retirement, I thought my dreams would end there. But, something stirred within me almost from the beginning of widowhood. I was determined to have that camper and found a way to make it work.

Little TOW-Wanda came into my life just a few weeks after the funeral. I carefully stocked her and as soon as the spring snows melted, I was off on The Grand Adventure through the wilderness and backroads of Colorado by myself.

I am so glad there were no forest fires to speak of that summer, or I might have lost the heart for this fun way of life. I traveled a circle clear around the state at least twice in those three months. One particularly beautiful stretch was heading west on Colorado Route 14 through Poudre Canyon. I hadn’t been through there since the High Park Fire of 2012 the year before. It was devastating to see the blackened vegetation...the trees standing like gnarled fingers pointing to the sky.

I drove to the far west end where the fire had spared the canyon. I found an empty campsite right on the edge of the Cache la Poudre River and backed in. It was early in the camping season. The kids were still in school, and I had just about every campground I went to all to myself.

I had camped in Rocky Mountain National Park for a few days prior to my arrival in Poudre Canyon. I saw wildlife galore on that trip...elk, deer, turkey, mink, ermine, marmot, Bald Eagles, Great Horned Owls, moose, coyotes. Everything except a bear. The last morning at this campsite, I talked with Mr. Virgo...as I did most mornings. I thanked him for bringing all the beautiful animals to enjoy...I really appreciated them. But, could he please just bring me at least one bear???

I packed up and headed west on Colorado 14 and began the long, steady climb up to Cameron Pass. By the time I got to Joe Wright Reservoir, my engine was getting a little hot. I decided to pull in the parking area and gaze at the still frozen water. Signs of spring were coming to the high country as the fresh green leaves were popping out on the aspen trees and the undergrowth was beginning to show signs of life. Finally, when the engine and transmission were cooled, I took off to the tip top of the pass.

I had just crested the pass at 10, 249’ and began the slow descent down when I noticed the most odd thing. Someone had placed a huge statue of a bear, right along the highway where it makes a sharp bend to the right. I slowed down to look at it, then realized...to my sheer delight...it was a real, live bear! Standing on the edge of the road, the sheer drop off behind him. I stopped the truck and stared. Thank God there wasn’t someone coming along behind me! I tried to snap a photo of the bear, but the memory was full on my phone and by the time I reached for my digital camera, it had disappeared over the edge. I realized that memory was for me alone.

I don’t believe I have seen another bear in the wilds of Colorado since that one magical morning on Cameron Pass. And now...Cameron Pass is burning, as is much of Colorado and points west. Climate change has brought increasing drought and prevailing winds so the fires continue to become worse and worse.

I don’t know when, or if, I will ever have the opportunity to go on an adventure like that again. But I must say...the memories of those three months pulling my camper through the majestic Rocky Mountains have never faded and remind me of God’s reckless love for me...to grace me with these memories that still fill my heart.

❤️

“God is the one who rules the whole earth, and we that live here are merely insects. He spread out the heavens like a curtain or an open tent.”
Isaiah 40:22 CEV

Day 157: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way...

Sat, 22 Aug 2020 01:20:00 -0600

God has a sense of humor. He knows when we’ve had it up to here. That’s when he sends you something so patently absurd, you can’t help but break out into a belly laugh. That’s one of the ways the Great Healer heals...He brings us laughter.

Mr. FixIt and I had a laundry list of things that needed doing yesterday in town...one of which was to mail some overdue greeting cards. There were two condolence cards and a graduation card, so I sat down to write. I filled out the first card and wrote a lovely note. As I prepared to start the second condolence card, Mr. FixIt interrupted me as he was looking for the graduation announcement. We needed it for the address to send the graduation card.

I told him not to worry, I would just text his sister to get the address. It wasn’t long till she and I were chatting back and forth. She gave me the address and I wrote it on the envelope. As we chatted about the smoked pork I canned last week, I wrote the sentiment in the card and popped it in the envelope.

Then I reached for.... Suddenly, I was puzzled. The only card left was the graduation card. If that’s the case...what was I writing in? I opened the envelope and there was the sympathy card...addressed to the young graduate! I started laughing, because I could just imagine which one would be funnier.

The new graduate with...

Remembering you 
in thought and prayer...

Let there be hope.
Let there be stories.
Let there be celebration
of a life well-lived.
Let there be tears,
but let there be happy memories
of all you shared.

or...

My cousin, the new widow, with the handwritten sentiment....

“Congratulations on your
Graduation & Best Wishes 
in your Future Endeavors!”

I told my cousin about it last night and we laughed till we cried. I wonder which one I should send it to?

When we were leaving Walmart later in the afternoon, I walked by a woman on her cell phone. Her husband had wandered off and she was on the phone, trying to explain he should turn around and he could see her. Finally, she got frustrated and without the phone, she yelled his name.

“Marco!!!”

To which I turned around and shouted...

“Polo!!!”

We stood looking at each other for half a beat and literally doubled over laughing. Oh, you can’t make this stuff up!

Later in the day, I was on the phone with my son-in-law’s mom. Her husband and our granddaughter, “Little”, went to the nursing home to see her great grandmother yesterday afternoon. When she got home she said,

“Mimi, Grandma has gotten sick and almost died so many times in the last few years. There have been times Mom picked us up and we just went straight to the nursing home to say goodbye. Then she rallies and gets better. You know, I think most people go up there and knock on the doors of Heaven and are let right in. But, not Grandma. I think she rings the doorbell and runs!”

What a delightfully happy diversion laughter can be when things are so hard and dark. Laughter IS the best medicine!!!

And, oh...by the way...my cousin won. I’m sending HER the card...as is!

❤️

“Everything on earth has its own time and its own season......for crying and laughing, weeping and dancing,”
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4 CEV

Day 152: Crisis Fatigue...Stepping Away With a Soft Heart

Mon, 17 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

When is too much WAY too much? Where do you draw the line and say enough is enough? How do you step back when you just can’t do any more?

I eased my world a lot the last couple of weeks when I snoozed, unfollowed, unfriended, and...yes...even blocked a few people on my personal Facebook page. My decision to stop posting, forwarding, and commenting on anything remotely controversial and/or political helped a lot. I’ve even stepped out of a few chat rooms with really wonderful people for no other reason than I just can’t take one more thing right now.

I don’t know about you but I’m facing a very real case of crisis fatigue. When the human body is presented with a crisis situation, it produces cortisol...the hormone responsible for our fight or flight response. That’s really handy if you happen to be camping and a great big bear wanders across your path. The heightened attention and rapid response is meant to save your life. But, this year has been like walking into the International Convention of Pissed Off Grizzly Bears....every...single...day. When that happens, it doesn’t take long for the wheels to come off the bus.

Increased anxiety. Insomnia. Weight gain. Hypertension. Cushing Syndrome. Relationship distress. Even bone loss. All can occur from prolonged elevated levels of cortisol. Plain and simple...it’s just not good for you.

According to an article in WIRED Magazine written by Matt Simon... "Crisis fatigue manifests itself on two levels. On a societal level, it can tempt people to collectively throw up their hands and give up on civic engagement. 'Why not, if we’re going to hell in a handcart? Let’s just enjoy tomorrow.' Matthew Flinders, founding director of Sir Bernard Crick Centre for the Public Understanding of Politics at the University of Sheffield, told WIRED earlier this week."

Since 9/11, we have had multiple episodes of acute crises...wildfires, financial strife, social unrest, politics, Covid, job loss. Basically, the sound of the planes hitting the Twin Towers has echoed through every part of American life for the last twenty years. If there is that much havoc in our lives, isn’t it really a small thing to step back a little from the tiny screens that are occupying so much of our waking moments?

I write every day...I have to. It’s a part of who I am and what I do. But, when I get my screen usage report and it tells me just how much time I am spending on these devices, I realize that isn’t healthy either. I have this one group of girlfriends whom I dearly love. We went to high school together. We are each other’s cheerleaders. We are there for one another as we face the challenges of life. And, as much as I love them, we get chatty in that room and by the end of the day we can easily have fifty or more notifications pinging on our phones.

I know...I cant turn off the notifications, but I suffer from FOMO...fear of missing out. I’m like my grandma in that regard. If the phone rang, she’d break her neck to get to it so she could find out who was calling. It may have been someone she really didn’t care to have a conversation with at the time, but by golly...she wasn’t going to miss out on the possibility it was someone else. So, when the phone “pings”, I have to pick it up. I read. I respond. I set the phone down. Someone else responds. “Ping!” Pick up. Respond. Set down. It’s crazy.

If I didn’t have anything else going on in my life, it wouldn’t bother me a bit. And, I feel a bit silly...a little guilty perhaps...but I had to step away. I sent them loving messages and said, “It’s not you...it’s me. I can’t right now. I’ll be back someday, but right now? I just can’t.” They get it. They’re feeling it, too. Maybe they don’t know there is a name for it. Maybe they don’t know how to step back...or maybe they don’t need to.

I think the bottom line here is...you can step away with a soft heart. You don’t have to hurt anyone’s feelings or get agitated or up in arms. You can just be honest. It’s all so much. Yes, I could have just turned off the notifications and picked up the phone when I had time. But, I’d still be spending the same amount of time reading the updates and catching up.

It’s not like the individuals in the group can’t reach me or vise-versa. We are still friends on Facebook. We are still connected and are but a text away should someone want to reach out. Between that, shutting down websites and forwarded sources that I do not want to see, and snoozing several of the more vocal suspects, I felt a collective sigh of relief once I was done.

It’s ok to step away. When I think of all the things I am apt to miss, it’s decidedly my peace of mind that I miss the most. I’m well on the way to lowering those cortisol levels and promoting some peace in my life. Because here’s what happens when you step away from something. You make space between you. And, you can allow that space to be used for parking the offenses between others and yourself.

Best they sit in that space unattended than to sit in the space between your ears.

❤️

“God's Spirit doesn't make cowards out of us. The Spirit gives us power, love, and self-control.”
2 Timothy 1:7 CEV

Day 145: Steadfast Through the Storms

Mon, 10 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Let’s face it...2020 has been a year of storms. Every single day, we see something incredulous...something unimaginable...something so unbelievable our minds can begin to be numbed by it all. I don’t even need to write out the list, but who in their right mind would have thought up murder hornets and zombie cicadas...let alone all the other stuff?

I was feeling a little overwhelmed by it all this last week. I found peace in my garden and on my walks with Jesus. Then I would look at the news again and it would be another awful thing. Balancing between informed citizen and sensory overload is getting more and more challenging. Then, Mr. FixIt and I sat down to enjoy online church yesterday. Like He always does, the Holy Spirit brought me exactly the sermon I needed to hear.

Pastor Heather spoke about weathering the storms of life. We are always guaranteed to have storms and more often than not, they come out of nowhere and we can be caught off guard. She happened to be on vacation last week with her family and there happened to be a hurricane come right through Myrtle Beach. She noticed the palm trees swaying in the fury of the winds, yet they were never uprooted or broken. It reminded her of the first few verses of Psalms.

Those who turn away from evil advice and don’t follow sinners or sneer at God find happiness in the teaching of the Lord, and they think about it day and night. It goes on to say they are like trees planted by a stream where they get their nourishment. This is what I want to be. A sturdy tree planted by the living waters where I can get my peace from the source. God tells us over and over the way to happiness.

When I first started writing this blog, I promised God if he would bring me the words, I would tell my readers where I find my peace. It is so terribly easy to be reactionary in this political climate. The other day I wrote a reactionary post that I not only didn’t give much thought to, but I also didn’t research it first. My sweet friend Jackie responded with a gentle correction. I so appreciated that. It didn’t escalate. It just suggested I “listen”. Action versus reaction.

A good lesson for us all.

❤️

“God blesses those people who refuse evil advice and won't follow sinners or join in sneering at God. Instead, they find happiness in the Teaching of the Lord, and they think about it day and night. They are like trees growing beside a stream, trees that produce fruit in season and always have leaves. Those people succeed in everything they do.”
Psalms 1:1-3 CEV

Day 142: Having Trouble Feeling Good?

Fri, 07 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

It’s “Feel Good Friday” and I don’t know about you, but...it could get pretty frustrating looking around this dark world for something to feel good about. I gave this week’s edition of FGF a good, hard look yesterday. I usually search the internet for some story or video that tells of some heart warming thing someone has done. That’s all well and good, but it wasn’t working for me yesterday. So, I do what I always do when I need a little inspiration. I went for a walk with Jesus.

First, we went out into the garden and looked at the abundance of tomatoes that are coming on. There’s zucchini and yellow crookneck squash, green onions and peppers, pumpkins and Passion Flowers. The honeysuckle clings to the fence along the back of the yard and brambles of wild black raspberries tangle in the corner over the rhubarb. Sumac and wild grape vines threaten to shade the garden as they compete with pokeweed and Virginia Creeper. I felt the stress in my shoulders begin to ease.

I gave the plants a good drink and took off for a walk around the far field. I saw a hole out there when I was mowing this week and I wanted to check it out. As I ambled across the fresh mown grass, I asked Jesus to give me something to feel good about. I let my mind go blank as I strolled and took in the sights and smells of the pasture. I let myself feel the gratitude for the beauty of this place Mr. FixIt has so generously shared with me. I started humming softly to myself.

“I’ll Fly Away” started drifting around in my mind. Not just any version either. It was the Stanley Brothers bluegrass gospel version. It was on their album “Good Old Camp Meeting Songs” and was recorded in May 1962...the month before I turned nine years old. In an instant, I was back in the front yard of Grandma’s house out at the farm, a quart jar in my hands, catching lightning bugs. Grandma and PopPop were inside with the Grand Ole Opry on...cranked up high...and Ralph and Carter Stanley were singing “I’ll Fly Away”.

My heart smiled.

A few years ago, I met a lovely young woman named Rachel. She plays the guitar and sings in her church and I had the pleasure of singing with her at a few gatherings when I was staying in my camper up at the river. We harmonized really well together and sang several of the old timey gospel hymns. It’s a precious memory I will always keep close.

I continued my walk and peeked at the progress on the neighboring property as they clear some ground. As I was coming back down the road, I saw Mr. FixIt out looking for me in the field. The cat keeps losing her breakaway collars and he was hoping to find the one he bought her yesterday. No luck.

I came in to write this, opened Facebook, and the first person I saw on my feed was...Rachel! My heart smiled big! I searched for, and listened to, some of Ralph Stanley’s great bluegrass gospel and found this album. So, this is today’s treat for “Feel Good Friday.” If this doesn’t make you feel good, I don’t know what will!

The Stanley Brothers - Good Old Camp Meeting Songs

Love you all. Take care of yourselves...and each other.

❤️

“speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Ephesians 5:19-20 NIV

#GospelMusic, #StanleyBrothers, #Hymns

Day 141: We Are All Different...Yet We Are One

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 01:30:00 -0600

He’s been there since I took my first breath. My big brother. My “Bubby”. My first playmate. My first friend. We were in cahoots on many occasions...but I was always the instigator. He was special. Always gentle...always sweet. He didn’t run and play like the other kids so he was happy to sit on the floor with me for hours...rolling the ball back and forth...playing with cars...building with blocks.

Every week, we went to this special place to play for an hour or so. There was a table with four doors...one on each side. You opened the door, stood inside, and someone closed the door after you. Then you could play with the objects on the table. Sometimes they would bring us cookies and milk while we stood there. I think I always knew this was a place that helped my Bubby, but I never saw him as anything other than the perfect brother.

I will never forget driving up Murdoch Avenue one day. Bubby and I were sitting in the back seat and I could tell my mom was crying...though she tried very hard to hide it. When we got home, she asked us to go play and she went in her room for a while. Later, when she was tucking us into bed, I asked her what was wrong.

“Oh, Sis...I just got some news today that was upsetting to me.”

“What was it, Mommy? Are you sick?” One of our neighbors had something called “cancer” and I was very afraid my mommy would catch it. Daddy said she could.

“No, sweetheart. You’re a big girl now. I can tell you. They told me today that your Bubby has Cerebral Palsy. They said he may never be able to drive a car or get a good job. He may be crippled his whole life.”

I didn’t know what to say to my mom because my Bubby was the same he had always been. I was growing up, but I didn’t have a concept of what life might look like for my brother.

After that, I was always my brother’s champion. I protected him from neighborhood bullies. I was one of the only people who could understand what he said. I interpreted for him and ran interference...so well, in fact, that I had to learn to back off a little so he could learn how to do things for himself.

He went as far in “special school” as he could...8th grade. It took him 12 years, but he finally earned his GED. He was so proud. We were so proud for him. They sent him away for “vocational training” but he wasn’t very successful at any of the jobs they tried to teach him...mainly because Mom insisted he come home every weekend. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to succeed. She just wanted him to be home where she had control over what he did and saw.

He worked in the Sheltered Workshop for 25 years or so, and when Mom retired, she found it easier to just keep him home with her. He was good company for her. She devoted her entire life to him...taking care of his every need.

Then she died.

He came to Colorado to live near me because, by the Grace of God, he was accepted into a wonderful program for adults who are “differently abled.” When I had the opportunity to come to West Virginia to live, I offered to “bring him home” with me. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He told me he has a life in Colorado...a life he never would have had if he had stayed in West Virginia. As a matter of fact, he told me one time...if I hadn’t have brought him to Colorado, he would be in a nursing home. And that is the God’s truth. He would have. He now enjoys as independent a life as he can live. He has a roommate. They have support staff come in frequently to make sure they are taking their medicine, check on their finances, get them to medical appointments, take them shopping, help them with meal planning.

He loves his roommate. He told me once that he never had a best friend before, but his roommate is his best friend. That warms my heart more than you can know. To rest secure in knowing he will always be taken care of, that he is happy and as healthy as he can be, that he has a happy and fulfilling life...well, that is such a blessing to me.

My friend Jan shared this video on Facebook last night and I cried when I saw it. Just like I cry when I see someone who is differently abled and they succeed at something we so often take for granted. I know how hard it is to do “normal” things. I saw how much work my brother put into learning how to take care of himself, cook his meals, do his laundry, keep his room clean. To see these kids and young adults expressing themselves with joyous abandon...being exactly who they are...take me or leave me...just warmed the cockles of my heart.

I’m missing my big brother and all my Colorado peeps something awful right now. As of the 3rd, it’s been a full year since I’ve seen them and I’ve never gone that long. I do not feel it is safe, or fair, to go visit them now. I certainly would not want to make any of my loved ones ill....especially my brother. He has become much more frail the last few years and I must protect him from all this if I can. I pray there will be a time soon when we can see each other. Until then, we will have to be satisfied with phone calls.

You can see the video HERE.

❤️

“The Lord said to him, “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.””
Exodus 4:11-12 NIV

Day 118: The Books from Beyond

Tue, 14 Jul 2020 01:30:00 -0600

I have a mystery. But it has a backstory you need to hear first.

If you’ve been following me for some time, you know I moved to West Virginia from Colorado to care for my elderly aunt who was living alone on the family farm. We tried it out for ten rather long and, dare I say, miserable weeks for both of us. She was a strong willed, independent woman who expected you to do what she said, when she said it. I’m not the type to take orders well, so when she invited me to leave on Christmas Day, I took myself on a totally different adventure for the following couple of years.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but Aunt Peeps was slipping into the netherworld of dementia which caused her to lose what little bit of a filter she had to begin with. Still, I had wonderful conversations with her over the years. If she liked you, she would do anything to help you achieve your dreams. She admired hard work and perseverance. She was a teacher...erudite and proper.

I remember when I was very young, she came to visit with photographs from Cleveland and Washington, DC. Grainy black and white snapshots depicting water fountains and lunch counters with signs over them that said “Whites Only”. I didn’t understand what that meant and she carefully explained racism to me in words a little girl might comprehend. She was quite adamant...as was my grandma...that we never, ever treat other’s differently. We are all God’s children.

I grew up poor. Not dirt poor. Not welfare poor. But we didn’t have a lot of extras and ate from grandma’s garden quite a bit. I married my high school boyfriend and escaped what I felt at the time was the hell of West Virginia. When that marriage failed, I ended up marrying a young physical therapist who was heading into medical school. As our affluence increased, we rose higher and higher on the white privilege scale. Five years after that marriage ended, I met Mr. Virgo. He had worked his entire career in the hospitality industry at numerous Five Star resorts and restaurants around the world. So I was still in the realm of privilege. I had a housekeeper and a full length blue fox coat and a new car every couple of years.

I don’t believe I’ve ever been overtly racist, but there were many years where I just didn’t really give the struggles of ethnic communities much thought. And that is the essence of what is referred to as white privilege. With the onset of civil unrest over racial disparities, I have taken it upon myself to learn as much as I can on the subject so that I can better understand the plight of People of Color. I want to be a better human.

After Aunt Peeps died, my uncle came to the farm to get some of her papers that he needed to settle her estate. These papers were in boxes in the closet upstairs in her bedroom. The next time I was out there, I went upstairs and there were a few items on the bed. There was also a day bed up there with several boxes of my own things. I didn’t notice anything of any import that day.

Last weekend, when I was out there working on the taxes, it was so bloody hot and the air conditioner was not working. I went upstairs to turn the fan on in the bedroom opposite hers. As I was coming back out of the room to the top of the stairs, I glanced into Aunt Peeps’ room and noticed something I hadn’t seen before. There were two books laying neatly stacked on the pillow. I would have sworn they weren’t there before.

I went in and picked up the books and my jaw dropped.

“The Autobiography of Malcom X” by Alex Haley.

“Black Boy” by Richard Wright.

Two seminal literary works about the black experience in this country. Not at all the kind of books I saw my aunt reading as I grew up or when I lived with her. And certainly not anything I had ever seen there before. Where did they come from? Who placed them so carefully where I would be sure to find them? I have no idea. But I picked them up and smiled, tucked them neatly under my arm, and have set a goal to read them both to better understand.

Ever the educator. Ever the fair-minded yet fierce educator. I believe my Aunt Peeps left me a gift...exactly the gift I needed at exactly the right time.

She teaches...still.

❤️

“For God does not show favoritism.”
Romans 2:11 NIV

Day 70: Learning New Skills

Mon, 25 May 2020 01:30:00 -0600

A few years ago, a clerk at the swimming pool supply store gave Mr. FixIt a handy dandy little trick to keep from having to empty so much water from the pool in the winter. It was supposed to keep the skimmer from freezing. Unfortunately, it didn’t work and the skimmer cracked. Being the frugal fixit man my husband is, he managed to jury rig the whole thing and get another four years use out of it. He’s a smart man. But, alas...the time came when we couldn’t keep it together with spit and glue anymore and we bit the bullet. We bought a new one.

Now, in my old life as a Princess, I would have just called the pool guy, ordered a skimmer, and have him come out and install it. I always justified those expenses by figuring out how long it would take me to do it multiplied by how much I valued my time. I valued my time a LOT. Nowadays, we have nothing BUT time, and being the frugal fixit man that he is, we set to installing the skimmer ourselves yesterday.

With a break during the hottest part of the day, I’d say it took us a good five to six hours to install that baby. It’s made well, and all the parts were there, but I could NOT turn the screws when it came time to put it together. I tried and tried. I grunted and may have said a naughty word or two. Mr. FixIt wasn’t helping when he said, “Just turn it!”

I looked at him and informed him he was getting dangerously close to doing this entire job by himself. Finally, I took the two pieces apart and looked in the holes. They were not threaded. Mr. FixIt took the drill and drove the screws into the holes to pre-thread them. When we tried the second time, they went in much easier. However, I couldn’t get the leverage I needed to drive them all the way in. I knew the only way this was going to work was for one of us to get in the pool to be in the right position.

There was no way I was going to let my husband get down in that water. Not only would there be the balance issues from last weekend’s stroke, but there was the issue of the water that had not been cleaned yet. I couldn’t risk him getting an infection in his feet or legs. So...I said, let’s have a good dinner, then I can get in there and we’ll whip this thing out.

I pulled the pork roast out of the oven and as it set, I steamed some broccoli, made a bowl of coleslaw, and sautéed the remaining mushrooms that were nearing their final days. We enjoyed our meal out on the pool deck, admiring the new pergola we built this spring and yet again congratulating ourselves for being so smart to buy it. It really keeps the temperature down at the table. After supper, we drove over to town to get a little ice cream for dessert.

It was finally time to get in the pool and get this done. It was SO cold. The pool thermometer said “Lo”. I asked Mr. FixIt how low was “Lo”. He had no idea. I’ll tell you what...I know! “Lo” means “Darned Cold”! But this was exactly the position I needed to be in to put my weight behind it and it was no time till we were done. The seal around the skimmer was water tight and there were no more leaks. Eureka! I did a little happy dance and Mr. FixIt laughed.

“Get out of there before you get hypothermia!”

I love the sense of accomplishment that comes with doing a good job. And I love that I have a patient husband that is willing to teach me these things. Having these strokes has brought us a sense of urgency in getting jobs done and teaching me how to do everything around here. It’s all part of the whole “Autumn” thing.

Sitting in the bedroom with the windows wide open and writing is the peaceful ending I crave to every day. It is my meditation time. I love hearing the frogs and the night noises and the tapping of my keyboard. It is the rhythm of my life.

❤️

“When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.”
Proverbs 3:24 NIV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

#MothersDay, #Children, #Holiday

Day 31: The Redbud and Dogwood are Blooming!

Thu, 16 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

The redbud are blooming!!!

Mr. FixIt and I have been watching the weather reports very carefully the last week. We needed to get out to the farm to mow so we have been waiting for a dry, sunny day. Yesterday and today both were forecast to be beautiful, but...there was a 60% chance of rain last night. The ground at the farm is very soft and since it’s in a holler, it just doesn’t dry out very well. A heavy riding mower could easily tear up the lawn if we weren’t careful so we decided to go yesterday.

The wispy purple-pink of redbud are so ethereal mixed with the spring green. One of my favorite color combos.

As I was gathering things up to leave, I asked Mr. FixIt if he would like to go spend the night at the farm since we were going out anyway. This coming weekend is when we were supposed to go to the beach, so we have both been feeling the disappointment of changed plans. This would be a nice little getaway and feel like at least we saw something other than our own four walls.

The first mowing of the spring out at the farm.

As soon as we drove into the driveway, we saw the tarp on the vintage camper had been ripped off in the wind. We knew we needed to get that fixed as soon as possible so we quickly got the lawn mowed then headed to the closest town with a hardware store to buy a tarp. The drive there was stunning. The sun was shining. It was just warm enough to have the windows open and the wind blowing through our hair. On the way home, we stopped to pick up a pie and ice cream for dessert. I also finally had the opportunity to snag a shot of this really cool dry-stacked rock wall I’ve been eyeing for the last couple of years.

I think this big pine is going to have to come down before too long. It keeps leaning out over the yard.

Every time I had the opportunity, I stopped and took photos. After Mr. Virgo died, I realized I only had a handful of photos of him. He was always the photographer so we didn’t get many pictures of him. I’ll never make that mistake again. Now I take pictures of everything and everyone. I have hundreds of photos of Mr. FixIt and since I’m taking photos of him, I end up taking pictures of a lot of other things, too.

I drive past this dry-stack rock wall frequently and finally got a picture of it.

We have a lot of cherry blossoms. Now if we could just keep the birds out when they’re ripe in order to actually have some for pies.

One of my friends from Grandma’s church posted a picture of a batch of Redbud Jelly. Unfortunately, I don’t have the stuff to make it at the moment, but I’ll have it for next spring!

Stacie says it’s really easy to make and has such a delicate taste. And, my oh my...isn’t it just beautiful? I’m thinking Homemade Buttermilk Biscuits and Redbud Jelly are definitely on the menu for Spring 2021!

Here’s the picture of Stacie’s jelly and the recipe she sent me:

Stacie’s Redbud Jelly. It’s as pretty as a picture!

I hope you are finding things to look forward to today. When we were at the hardware store yesterday, we bought seeds to plant green beans. The last three springs, the rabbits have eaten them. Now that we have Pumpkin the Guard Cat...we haven’t had any bunnies in the yard so maybe we will have beans this year!

❤️

“Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.””
Hosea 6:3 ESV

Day 26: Here Chick, Chick, Chick

Sat, 11 Apr 2020 01:30:00 -0600

My friend Aimee bought tiaras for her chicks...because that’s just the kind of farm princess she is!

All my life, I’ve wanted to have chickens. I remember chickens when I was a little girl. I used to think they were out at Grandma’s farm, but my Aunt Peeps says she never had them. Interestingly, Aunt Peeps got her nickname from a book about a little chick that went “Peep, Peep, Peep!” She had that book memorized when she was a toddler and my PopPop always called her Peeps and it stuck all these many years later.

When Hubby #2 finished residency and joined a medical practice, our first house was on two acres out a two lane blacktop on the way to the ski area. We boarded horses and had a big garden that was really not much more than a salad bar for the deer and raccoons. I really wanted chickens but we lived in a subdivision with covenants. The developer of the property said we could have them if the neighbors agreed. All but one did, so I couldn’t get them.

My best friend had chickens at her house. She also had ducks. She lived in town and was not allowed to have roosters. The chicks were sexed and they assured her there were no roosters. Needless to say, we found out that was pretty meaningless when they became adolescents and started crowing. She tried every one she knew to give the roosters away and finally decided we would just butcher them and freeze the meat.

This was a really sound idea, except for two things. They were fancies and by the time they were plucked and cleaned, they weren’t any bigger than a pigeon. And....you never EVER butcher birds you have named. I do believe my friend is still traumatized and that was over thirty years ago.

No situation ever presented itself where I could have chickens till I moved back to West Virginia and lived out on the farm. I was just at the point where I was considering getting some then I ran into Mr. FixIt and we started dating and traveling so chickens were put on the back burner...so to speak.

I have considered having chicks here at the Ponderosa, but again...travel gets in the way. I always go to Colorado in the summer to see the kids. But this year, I’m not sure I’m going to get to. Maybe this is my year. Or, maybe I’m past it. I don’t know. I had to share this picture with you, though. My friend Aimee is who I want to be when I grow up. She is an animal magnet and has some baby chicks this spring. Aimee is a free spirit, hippy mama, earth mother, gypsy farmer...she’s artistic and beautiful and colorful, to put it mildly. So...Aimee did what Aimee does.

She bought tiaras for her chicks. They’ll fit right in with Daisy the dog who wears a pearl necklace instead of a collar and Gypsy the guard pony that protects the goats from the coyotes and John Boy, the rescued boxer/mastiff mix that cost them about a gazillion dollars in vet bills. I’ll tell you what....those are some lucky chicks right there!

❤️

“He gives food to every creature. His love endures forever.”
Psalms 136:25 NIV

Day 8: This Little Piggy Stayed Home

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

Be like this little piggy and stay home!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember what is really important in this life.

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

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

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

❤️

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

What Happens if Nothing Happens?

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

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

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

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

And...we wait.

And wait some more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

“Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.”
Colossians 3:12-15 ESV

Sweet Caroline

Mon, 09 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Memories are like pictures in a shoebox. Sometimes you get to find out what happened to that girl.

She was just a little girl when I first met Caroline. Two years my junior, I felt ever so much older and worldly than the little girl with the long, straight hair. Caroline had an older brother about my brother Gary’s age. Our brothers both went to the “special school” in our home town. Our moms knew each other through the Easter Seal Treatment Center where the boys both received speech and physical therapy. My mom was the secretary. Caroline’s mom volunteered whenever mom needed envelopes stuffed for the fundraisers that were held periodically.

I never really knew Caroline. Our ages were just enough different that our paths didn’t cross through school, but I remember seeing stories about her and her brother and parents in the newspaper from time to time. She always had that long, straight hair. She went on to become an artist and lived in New England. But, so many times over the years, she and her brother would come to mind and I’d wonder how they were.

Last night, as Mr. FixIt was at the bowling alley with his buddies, I went to Panera to write my post. As I pulled out my iPad, I looked up at the woman sliding into the booth next to mine. I smiled. It was Caroline!

I caught her eye and smiled.

“I’m sure you don’t know me, but you would know my mom and my brother.”

Turns out she did remember and we had the most lovely conversation...comparing notes of lives lived and times past. Well, as much as you can in a few minutes in a restaurant. I’m afraid our conversation took up much of her dinner time, but I was so happy to have connected with her.

Her brother is in a care center now and really doing as well as can be expected. He seems to be happy and content where he is and there’s a lot to be said for that. I invited Caroline to find Marshmallow Ranch. I hope she does. It’s so wonderful when you can dot some “I’s” and cross some “T’s” in your life. It closes an open loop that has run through my mind over the years.

What a treat it is when there’s some completion to a story.

❤️

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

The Party’s (Almost) Over

Thu, 13 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Have fun little girl!!!

I didn’t sleep well at all my last night in the little rpod. I lifted the shade over the bed at about 1:00 in the morning and watched the clouds flitting over the bright, shiny moon. I smiled as I thought of all the beautiful places I’ve been in it. I felt my phone buzz and saw my friend Diane had texted me. She’s the “non-camper” that I took camping back in early October. She wanted to know if I was still in the camper. (Yes, we often chat in the idle of the night...we are both night owls.) Finally, we both decided we might sleep if we had a bowl of cereal. lol

As I sat nibbling on Raisin Bran, I got to thinking...wouldn’t it be nice if you could tow a camper around and live in it a little bit before you buy it? You can rent some models, but it is not an exhaustive list to choose from. I knew within a week of living in Big TOW-Wanda that there were things I really didn’t like about it. For one, the windows didn’t open very far and you never really got a nice cross breeze.

After having this little beauty for the last five months, I’ve just about decided to sell the big camper and downsize to the rpod 196. There’s really nothing major I would want to change on it. I think I would put some sort of rain guards or an awning over the tops of the sliding windows so I could have them wide open when it rains. Other than that...it’s golden. And that comes from really living in it over time.

I was telling Mr. FixIt how much I would miss this camper and being on the road with her, but just as much as that, I am looking forward to getting some things done around the house that have been pushed to the back burner. I’m not sure how much camping we’ll get to do this summer anyway with all the work that needs doing on the house in order to get it on the market. I do know there will be a trip to Colorado!

When I did finally wake up yesterday after a fitful hour or two of sleep, it was so quiet. No rain! The rivers are high and overflowing all around and this little respite was short lived. As soon as I got the rest of the items packed up and the bed stripped, the drizzly rain started again. I hooked up in the wet and waited till I got to Setzer’s to sweep out the camper. It was useless to do it beforehand with all the dirt and wet I was tracking in.

I hauled on over to the dealership and unhooked in what was now a very steady rain. Everything was out of the camper and I handed over the keys. It felt really weird to leave without towing something! As I pulled away, I stopped and snapped this picture and said a quick prayer...for the new owners...and for safe travels home for both of us. She’s gonna make someone very, very happy in a couple of days!

And now...back to work!

Here’s the link for the camper. If you buy a ticket (or three) I promise I’ll stop bombarding you with these links. (Ohhhh, that’s not fair. The raffle ends tonight at midnight. Still...) There are also links in the story for all the wonderful companies who partnered with us to bring the camper from “Factory to Fabulous” as well as the HoldYou Foundation. It’s worth your while to go check them out.

[girlcamper.com/introduci...](https://girlcamper.com/introducing-the-r-pod-196-from-factory-to-fabulous/)

❤️

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

Please Share...the Last Chance for Raffle Tickets!

Wed, 12 Feb 2020 02:30:00 -0600

Praying for lots of ticket sales to help the families of critically ill children. And, for the new owners of this sweet little camper!

The last five months have been SO much fun! Traveling through five states, camping at several state parks and private campgrounds, over 6,000 miles driven, plus some boondocking off the grid. All in one of the coolest little campers I’ve ever had the privilege to spend time in. I’m seriously considering selling Big TOW-Wanda and getting an rpod 196. I love the floor plan, it is so super easy to tow, the kitchen is really workable, the sofa is honestly indistinguishable from a residential as far as comfort (and folds down into a twin bed to boot!) There is SO much storage and the bed is situated so no one has to crawl over their bed partner to get out in the middle of the night. And to top it all off, the windows let in an amazing amount of light. They had me when I saw the window over the bed!

I spent the day yesterday clearing out the things I’ve toted around with me on the trip. It’s amazing what can accumulate in five short months! There were things that stay with the camper, things that go back to Janine, things that go home, and things to throw away. As I sat and sorted, I prayed for the new owners of this little camper...that they see beautiful sights, that they enjoy peaceful solitude and/or family adventures, and that all their travels are safe and secure.

Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey! I’ll post a farewell photo tomorrow. In the meantime, if you could please do us the honor of sharing this link with everyone you know, I would be ever so grateful. The monies from ticket sales goes to the HoldYou Foundation to assist families who have critically ill children with the practical things they need...keeping the lights on, buying groceries, gas for the car to get their child to and from the doctor. It’s a wonderful charity that the Girl Campers supports wholeheartedly. If you have access to a newsletter or mailing list, that would extra super special! We are getting down to the wire now. We have extended the hours to purchase tickets to midnight on Valentine’s Day! Wahoo!

[girlcamper.com/introduci...](https://girlcamper.com/introducing-the-r-pod-196-from-factory-to-fabulous/)

❤️

“and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.”
Isaiah 58:10 NIV

Seeking Comfort in an Uncomfortable World

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

“Travel brings me comfort in an uncomfortable world.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finding ME.

Finding love again.

Marrying a wonderful man.

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

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

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

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

Maybe I can take a nap before we go.

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

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

Be blessed!

Ginny

❤️

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

Psalms 96:1-3 NIV

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

Psalms 90:12 NIV

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

Proverbs 16:9 NIV

Big Loss + Big Growth = Big Changes in 2020

Wed, 18 Dec 2019 02:30:00 -0600

“We should all seek to grow through our losses, and accept that change is all there is to do.”

On March 12, 2013...my world as I knew it came crashing to an end. The future Mr. Virgo and I had planned ended right in front of me in the cold, sterile environment of a Colorado emergency room. Time stopped in that moment and I struggled to do the simplest of tasks...breathing was at the top of the list.

I ever so slowly dragged myself along the jagged shards of grief till I could accomplish simple things like personal hygiene, taking care of paperwork, and eating proper meals. Each tiny step seemed monumental and yet my focus was never much further than the end of my nose. But, hours became days, weeks, months. And finally...years.

When I look back on all of that now, I marvel that I survived. I also marvel at this new creation I have become. I am such a different version of myself than I was when Mr. Virgo was alive. I’m not at all sure he would like being married to the me I am now...although I have not a doubt that he would be ever so proud of what I have accomplished in a relatively short time.

Relatively short...if you can call seven Christmases without him “short”. Time is tricky. It seems like yesterday. It seems like eternity. Sometimes, it seems like a dream that I even had him. I’ve learned this is common and it was one of the hardest things to accept. It meant I was growing. Not forgetting...but growing into this new life that I find myself living.

And that’s where I’ve come to sit with you today...coffee in hand...to have a little chat. I’ve felt the winds of change whipping around my head for some time now. I’m not one to fear change. As a matter of fact, I embrace it. Good change, anyway. I find myself in a place now where I need to make some good changes. For me. For the people in my life whom I love and love me.

I’ve written every day...almost every single day...for 2,471 days. That’s 6 years, 9 months, and 5 days...in case you’re wondering. I’ve given everything to this project...this Grief Journal...the Documentary of an Ordinary Life. I’ve spoken from my heart with honesty and what I hope was with empathy and grace. And now...I find myself at a crossroads.

On the day Mr. Virgo died, God threw a pebble in the lake of my life and the ripples have expanded in ever broadening circles...touchIng, crossing, blending with the circles of others. He brought me a companion in Mr. FixIt. With him, God brought me a large extended family that adds to my own in Colorado. More children, grandchildren, and now great grandchildren to love and care for.

He crossed my path with Janine Pettit who has not only been a dear friend and mentor, but has opened my world to greater opportunities than I could have envisioned. God has answered my prayers when I asked him to “expand my territory”...my circle of influence...to give me even more opportunities to share how He has touched my life. And to share what wisdom I have been graced with.

There are big projects in the works on a national level which require more and more of my attention. One of which is the new OH-WV Girl Camper Chapter that I share with my dear friend, Gail Bable. We write stories about camping, the things we’ve learned, our favorite picks (parks, equipment, etc.) and local finds. We are essentially Ambassadors for Ohio and West Virginia Tourism as it relates to women travelers...be it camping or otherwise. I also write a series for them called Girl Camper Moments.

There’s my book, which sits waiting for me to get back to it and breathe life into it so it may be born out into the world. There’s a second book, and a third, and....you get my drift. There’s writing to be done and there are only so many hours in the day in which to do it. I have worked so long and hard on Marshmallow Ranch to let it devolve into anything less than the level of quality you have come to expect...and deserve. This is where the growing pains come in.

I have to make some changes.

If I want to do what I feel God is calling me to do, then I have to learn to use my time wisely. Just as our finances belong to God and we must be good stewards of what He has entrusted us with, so too is the time He has graced us with in order to accomplish the purpose He has for us in this life. To that end, I have set up a “work schedule” for 2020. I will post here every Wednesday and every Sunday. I will continue “Sunday Evening Prayer Circle” as that has become such a moment of solace for me and for so many others I know. Then I can focus Friday on Girl Camper and turn the writing time I’ve been using into work time on the book.

I do hope you continue to follow along. It may take more work to find me. I'm not sure what Facebook will do to my algorithms if I don't post every day. I will post brief, encouraging photos and quotes frequently. I just won't be writing the long story posts every day we both have become accustomed to. I get as much...if not more...from my writing when I read your kind and encouraging comments. Your loyalty has not been lost on me and I am ever so grateful for all of you.

And now, it's.....

2020

It's all about a new chapter.

20/20

It’s all about vision.

With much love and gratitude...

Ginny

❤️

“The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.””

Matthew 13:22-23 NIV

Definition of a WV Holler

Fri, 13 Dec 2019 02:30:29 -0600

Grandma’s farm is at the mouth of a holler. No one lives back up the holler anymore.

It’s “Feel Good Friday” and I want to share something with you. We often talk about the hills of WV where my roots run deep. We talk about Grandma’s farm and the home of my heart. I tell you stories and memories that warm my soul and hopefully yours, as well. If you grew up like I did…you’ll be able to relate. And if you didn’t, you’ll be able to see how the luckiest of us were raised up.

I belong to several Appalachian pages on Facebook. I love the pictures and the stories as they stir up memories as old as the hills. When I read the writing of one of these hill folk and it particularly moves me, I simply must share. This piece was written about the hollers of Eastern Kentucky, but that’s not all that far from here and aptly describes our neck of the woods in WV, too. I hope you enjoy!

The Definition of an Eastern Kentucky Holler…..

Someone from outside my area recently asked me about our Eastern Kentucky hollers, and I have been thinking of how to best describe them to those not familiar with them. The simple answer is that a holler is a lane that follows a narrow valley between the hills. But if you’re from the hills of Eastern Kentucky, then you know there’s a lot more to a holler than that.

Most hollers are just dirt roads with a little gravel spread on them every now and then. They were never intended to carry heavy traffic. A holler is generally very sparsely populated because that’s the way we like it. We guard our privacy and we’re pretty wary of strangers. Often there’s not another house in sight of your house.

But we still know our neighbors. And when one needs help, then you help. If someone is sick in the holler, then you pitch in to help until they get back on their feet. If someone has a problem, then you listen. When someone claims you as a friend, then you’re loyal. And if you make a promise, then you’d better make good on it.

There aren’t any mansions In a holler. In fact, most houses in a holler are modest ones. And almost everyone has a barn, and a couple of other outbuildings. Some have chickens and cows and goats and a couple of horses. And they all have at least one dog that runs to the road and barks at every car that passes by.

Most people in a holler have a front porch. And they actually sit on it. They shell peas and string green beans and peel apples on the porch. And people stop by and sit on the porch with you. They laugh and talk and cuss a little bit about crooked politicians. And in the dusky evenings, they come with fiddles and flat top guitars and five-string banjos. And, good Lord in heaven…..what music they make! Sometimes the music drifts up and down the holler and it’s so pretty it just makes you want to cry! But instead of crying, you find yourself humming along to the lonesome strains of the Orange Blossom Special.

A lot of the houses in a holler have been occupied by several generations of the same family over the years. There is comfort in living in the house where your grandpa was born, or playing in the creek where your daddy used to swim. Something stirs down deep inside of you when you know you’re walking in the steps of your forefathers. And you never really feel alone as long as you know that your people lie buried on top of the hill that holds you so closely. Never underestimate the way that the hills cradle you. They will rock you to sleep at night, and awaken you in the morning with a happy heart and a joy in your soul.

If you live in a holler, you get recognition every day. And you’re never invisible. People always wave at you when they see you on your porch or in your yard. And if they don’t see you outside, then they will blow the horn when they drive by your house….just as a way of saying “howdy”. And if a few days pass and they don’t see you, then they’ll stop by to check on you. You can count on it. And you can count on them.

If your house is the first one as you turn up the holler….then you live at the mouth of the holler. If your house is the last one where the holler dead-ends…then you live at the head of the holler. And responsibilities fall to you according to where you live in the holler. For example, if you live at the mouth of the holler and you see a strange car that doesn’t belong to anyone you know and it’s heading up the holler, then you call the people who live above you and let them know that there’s a stranger headed up their way. That’s just common courtesy. If a vacuum cleaner salesman comes to your door, then call and let the others in the holler know so they’ll have time to let the big dogs out of the house before the salesman pulls into their driveway.

If anyone invites you to have a meal at their table…accept their offer quickly. And if it’s a house where an old woman runs the kitchen, get to the table just as fast as you can. And get ready to be amazed! Because if you live to be a hundred years old, you will never have a finer meal than one served up in an Eastern Kentucky holler.

There is a certain etiquette adhered to when you drive up or down the holler. If you meet another car in an extra narrow spot, then one of you has to back up to a wide spot so the other can pass. And when you are finally able to pass each other, you stop and roll the car window down and you talk until another car comes along and you have to move on.

If your neighbor slides out of the road in the winter snow, or if he gets stuck in the mud, then you try to push him out. If you’re unable to push him out, then you get your tractor out of the barn, attach a big chain, and pull him out. Again…it’s just common courtesy.

If someone in the neighborhood dies, you get to their house quickly with huge boxes of food. You make a pot of coffee. And then you make another one. And you stay beside your neighbor for as long as you’re needed. You don’t even have to say a word, you just have to be there.

There are other unwritten rules to holler-living. If a forest fire breaks out, you become a firefighter. And not just to save your own house, but to also save all the other houses in the holler. If the creeks start rising, you don’t leave anyone behind to face the muddy waters alone. And when storms come, and they will, you will find no better friends than the ones who are going through the same challenges that you’re facing.

There’s a lot more to be said about an Eastern Kentucky holler, but if I don’t tell you another thing, you need to know that a holler is more than a narrow isolated lane that runs between the hills. A holler takes you to the place where you have always been loved and where you’ll always be welcome. A holler takes you to the place where you can find comfort and peace and a sense of belonging. It takes you to your roots and to your family and to the truth of who you are. A holler takes you home.

Written by Roberta Stephens

January 4, 2017

In sweet memory of the hollers I have loved

❤️

“‘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

It’s a KISS Christmas - Keep it Simple, Santa!

Wed, 11 Dec 2019 02:30:37 -0600

“Simple and elegant…vintage Shiny Brite ornaments like these hang on our tree here at the Ponderosa”

Wait! How can it possibly be just two weeks till Christmas Day??? It seems like I was on the RPod Tour yesterday and now we are sliding into the home stretch and the year will be over. I went to the farm Monday midday to write. I fell asleep to the sound of rain on the tin roof. I couldn’t help it. Not only was it soothing, but it’s my happy place and I’ve been running around like crazy this year. I just enjoy it so much.

I woke up yesterday morning and looked at the weather reports. When I went to sleep it was 61℉ and raining. By morning they were predicting snow in the afternoon. I had limited groceries with me so I decided to pack up and head back to the Ponderosa. When I walked in, I heard the carpet shampooer running in the basement and that can only mean one thing. The basement flooded again. I went down and helped my sweet Mr. FixIt clean up the mess.

Once we got the worst of it done, I sat down to write. I have deadlines to meet every couple of weeks and I had a lot of work to do. Several hours later, I turned off the computer. I’ll finish this morning. Mr. FixIt baked some peanut butter cookies. We watched the news. We read the mail. We got our first Christmas cards yesterday. I haven’t even thought about doing ours yet. I haven’t gone Christmas shopping. I haven’t baked cookies or made special gifts. Nothing.

I used to feel really bad about myself if the holidays weren’t visions straight out of a Hallmark movie. I have SO gotten over that. The house is decorated…enough. Did I get the Christmas Village out on the dining room table? Nope. It’s ok. If my friends and family get a New Year’s letter from us, is it going to be the end of the world? Nope. It’s ok. If the kids get cash cards instead of intricately wrapped gifts, will it make the holidays any less bright? Nope. How about if I buy a store bought cheesecake instead of making fifteen dozen cookies…does it take anything away from our celebrations? No.

Because…all the decorations and the hoopla, the frenzy and the manic late nights aren’t what this holiday season is about anyway. It’s about love. And celebrating Jesus. And gathering the family and holding them close. I started a new Christmas tradition for Mr. FixIt and family when I came into the picture. I make a big pot of chili and homemade cinnamon rolls. It’s low key. We exchange modest gifts. And this year, we’re going to have a White Elephant gift exchange as a fun activity. If you’ve never done that, it’s a lot of fun. Here are the rules:

Each participant supplies one wrapped gift, usually of similar value. The gifts are placed in a central location, and participants determine in which order they will take turns selecting them. The first person opens a wrapped gift, and the turn ends. On subsequent turns, each person has the choice to either unwrap a new present or to steal another’s. When a person’s gift is stolen, that person can either choose another wrapped gift to open or can steal from another player. To avoid never-ending circles, each gift can only be stolen once per turn. The game is over when everyone has a present. Generally, it is recommended to have at least six participants for the gift exchange party. With a larger group, game play may be more protracted.

It’s a KISS Christmas…Keep it Simple, Santa!

❤️

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Matthew 6:21 NIV

Love to the Rescue

Tue, 10 Dec 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“One of my besties! Deneene and her sidekick, Griffen the Grey, came for a visit. She’s good for what ails ya!”

I wrote in yesterday’s post about feeling “in the ditch”. I struggled for a few days with grief waves triggered by a traumatic loss in the family. Then, in swept my dear friend Deneene with lots of love and her trusty sidekick, Griffen the Grey. Griff is a nine month old French Bulldog who wriggled his way into my heart when we visited Deneene and her husband Mark in South Carolina this summer.

I had been greatly anticipating Deneene’s arrival for the last week and when she walk in the door, all the “holding it all in” released with her big bear hug. I had the gas stove in the family room fired up so it was nice and toasty. And I had the TV on with this really great ten hour YouTube fireplace video running in the background. We have a huge TV because the family room is huge. It used to be a two car garage, so if you want to read the fine print at the bottom of the screen, you need a big TV. When Deneene walked in, she said she could see the fire blazing from the road leading past our house. I was glad no one thought the house was on fire and called 911!

We didn’t stay up too late and talk because my friend is a new grandma and had just spent a week at her daughter’s helping out with the new baby. She was pretty tired so we said goodnight early. Deneene is not a real morning person, so when Mr. FixIt and I woke up at 8:30, I told him to be really quiet so as not to wake her. I forgot that puppies get their mommies up really early and she had been waiting for US to get up and keeping Griffen quiet.

When I heard them talking in the family room, I quickly dressed and went into the kitchen to cook breakfast. Scratch biscuits with homemade sausage gravy and eggs. OMGosh! It’s been forever since I fixed that and it was SO good. I made Paula Deen’s Cream Biscuits. They are love in the palm of your hand. Look up the recipe. Super easy! And sausage gravy couldn’t be easier to make than mine. Fry a pound of sausage till browned, sprinkle about a third of a cup of flour over it and stir till combined then slowly pour enough milk over it to loosed it up, adding more milk as it cooks, stopping when you get the right consistency.

As we sat and ooohed and ahhhed over the delicacy before us, we slathered butter and local orange blossom honey over the rest of the biscuits till there were just three left. I tucked them in a bag for Deneene to take with her to nibble on the road. Deneene raved over our hospitality and I told her it was the best B&B this side of the Mississippi…and it’s free!

We said our WV goodbye. She announced she should be leaving. We told another story. She said she really should get going. We hugged and talked about when we would get to see one another again. She gathered up her things. I made sure she didn’t forget her biscuits. We walked to the door. We hugged again and declared it had been too long since the last visit and we shouldn’t wait so long next time. She double checked if she had everything. I asked if she needed a bottle of water for the road. She picked up her bags and we had another long hug at the door. As she walked through, we noticed she had set down the biscuits when she put on her coat so we retrieved them for her. If it hadn’t have been raining, we would have walked her to her truck and the goodbye would have lasted another fifteen to twenty minutes. Thus is the nature of goodbyes in the country. It’s a goodbye full of love!

I called after her, “Don’t forget to text when you get there!” If it was dusk, I would have said, “Watch for deer!” That’s West Virginian for “I love you!”

Deneene honked from the road as she drove by and I waved madly from the front window. And she was gone. My friend whom I helped through her own grief had come and returned the favor. I felt so much better after her visit. I have a big deadline to meet this week so after Deneene left, I packed up and went to the farm where I turned the TV to the same fireplace video. I survived another wave and I’m on to the next thing. Such is the nature of grief. It just gets incorporated into life and you move forward. Thank you for your support yesterday. You have no idea what that means to me. I wish everyone who grieves had cheerleaders like you to support them through their journey.

❤️

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”
John 15:12 NIV

It’s Feel Good Friday

Fri, 06 Dec 2019 02:30:21 -0600

“Here’s a photo of my happy big brother. He makes this a true Feel Good Friday!”

Wednesday night, after leaving the funeral home in support of family who suffered a devastating loss, I came home to an empty house while Mr. FixIt ran errands in town. I cleaned up around the house a bit, snuggled the kitten and put her to bed, then padded down the hallway to our room. I got into my cozy jammies, climbed into bed, and prepared to write my post…as I do every night. Then my phone dinged.

I looked down and it was a text from Hubby #2. He was having dinner with my brother and sent me a picture. He does this whenever they go out and it makes my heart burst…for a number of different reasons. First, because I miss my brother and I only get to see him once a year now. He is my only blood sibling. I have two sibs of the heart…but my Bubby is the the best. He owns the biggest piece of real estate in my heart. It made me so happy to see that great big smile from this sweet, sweet man.

The second reason my heart exploded is…this picture was only possible because the man I was married to for twenty years thinks enough of my brother to make a point to take him out to dinner several times a year. There was a time in the throes of divorce that I truly mourned, not just for the loss of a marriage, but the loss of my friendship with #2. I was always hopeful we could develop that again, but it wasn’t until Mr. Virgo died what we set everything aside and called a truce. I’m so glad because it’s so much better for the kids and grandkids when you can get along. The fact that he takes my brother out for dinner and sends me the picture makes me proud of the personal growth we both have accomplished.

I’m always looking for good news stories to share with you all because there’s already so much bad stuff. We need something uplifting. A friend shared a cute little Christmas commercial with me last night so I decided I’m going to try to have “Feel Good Fridays” to give us all something joyful to take us into the weekend. Thanksgiving was so late this year that it’s giving us a shorter Christmas season. And…this is the time of year for all the feel good stories. After December, I’ll have to go hunting for them. But, hunting I shall gladly do. I hope you enjoy this sweet little story out of the UK.

https://www.cnn.com/2019/12/04/uk/heartwarming-christmas-advert-intl-scli-gbr/index.html?ofs=fbia

❤️

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV

Recovery Day

Tue, 03 Dec 2019 02:30:13 -0600

“Christmas Lights & Pie”

When all the food is put away…when all the dishes are done…when all the guests have said their last goodbye…what time is it? It’s time for PIE! Well, really…is there ever a BAD time for pie? We turned off the lights…all but the tree. And just enjoyed the quiet.

I took the kitten in bright and early to be spayed and immediately came home and slept three more hours. Working to put on a big family dinner takes the starch out of you. And it gets harder the older you get.

The babies were so much fun. Princess First was in rare form, ate like a champ, colored brilliantly, and melted me with “Pweeze, Gigi!” I’m toast. Then there was Prince Second. Oy, he is a solid chunk of sheer joy. He smiles and coos and bats his big eyes at me. All I wanted to do all day was kiss and nibble on those cheeks…they are so delectable!

Once the kitten was ready, I went to pick her up. They informed me she needs to stay in the house for the next ten days. You know what that means, don’t you? It means we now have an indoor cat. Bring me all the antihistamines in the land! It’s better, really. I worry about her outside with that road even though she was safe in the pole building every night. I also found out we can board her with our vet when we go out of town. So it was a win-win day.

Now I can turn my focus back to writing. The OH-WV Chapter page on the new Girl Camper website needs my attention every couple of weeks. There are presents to make. Cookies to bake. Calls to make. Cards to send. This will be a busy and quick month for all of us. Then we can start making all our camping plans for the New Year! There’s going to be some fun things happening on the east side…up and down the mid-Atlantic area so keep your eyes peeled for announcements!

Katy bar the door…all heck is gonna break loose around here!

❤️

“Put your outdoor work in order and get your fields ready; after that, build your house.”
Proverbs 24:27 NIV

When Kindness Matters Most

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

#KindnessMatters, #Discrimination, #HappyHolidays

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

Motivation Monday: Kindness Matters!

Mon, 25 Nov 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“Just be kind because…kindness matters!”

I miss Mr. Rogers. I want to go see the Tom Hanks movie while it’s in the theater because I need a giant dose of his goodness. I wonder what he would think of our “neighborhood” now? After a week of watching grown a$$ men on national television acting like petulant two years olds (and I’m not choosing sides here…there was all kinds of nasty all the way around)…kindness seems to have left the building.

But has it really gone away completely? Or is it just buried somewhere below the fold because, like sex, all forms of violence sells much more than kindness? I comb the news everyday for the feel-good stories….for the tales of heroes and shining stars. They’re out there…but man, you sure have to look hard for them.

Let’s look at some inspiring stories that happened this month. After a scheduling snafu at a Waffle House in Birmingham, Alabama left a young man all alone to man the entire restaurant, kind customers noticed what was happening and jumped in to do everything from wash dishes to wait tables and deliver food. No one made a big deal about it. They just got up and helped…no questions asked.

The manager of a New York Bagel shop got a frantic call from a customer. She left her car keys on the counter of the bagel shop. She had left her car running while she ran in to pick up her order and didn’t miss the keys till she was at her destination several hours away. At that point, she was unable to start her car. The shop manager jumped in his car, took the keys to the customer in Pennsylvania, then turned right around and drove back so he could open the store the next morning.

A man with no kids of his own paid off the lunch debt for every child in nine Florida schools.

A boss paid off his employee’s mortgage so the Vietnam vet could retire.

A hospital in Pittsburgh knitted little cardigans and dressed every baby like Mr. Rogers for World Kindness Day.

There are kind people out there. Please don’t let the nastiness we see color the way we see everyone. One of the most important things I learned from the hearings last week is this…Russia is very, very busy sowing seeds of discord in our country. They want neighbor to turn against neighbor. They are the ones sitting back in glee, watching our country self destruct.

I say we fight back. I say we stand up and say enough is enough. When I wasn’t spending every day at the farm anymore, I walked around the perimeter of the property with my grandma’s Bible and proclaimed to the enemy that he had no dominion there to protect the home and property. We can do the same thing for our homes, our cars, our property, our neighborhoods. We can proclaim our boundaries. We can reclaim our lives. We can salvage kindness, and it may not be easy.

Look for the helpers. Ask for discernment and watch out for the insidious encroachment of evil in our midst. Stop reacting to everything and ask yourself, “Is this information true? Where/who is it coming from?” I know you can’t put smoke back in a bottle, but we can sure try to raise the kindness titer in this world by spreading it in our own sphere of influence. There IS good…you just have to change your focus and look for it.

❤️

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,”
Galatians 5:22 NIV

Refill Your Cup

Sun, 24 Nov 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“You can’t fill someone else with an empty cup.”

I met the Coffee Divas from my high school class yesterday. We try to meet once a month or so but I’ve been gone so much this year, it’s been a little less than that. When I returned from my WV tour in the Girl Camper charity raffle trailer, I was really ready to just be at home for a little bit. I wouldn’t say I was burned out…that sounds so negative and it wasn’t a negative kind of feeling at all. I just missed home and missed my sweet Mr. FixIt and I was ready to just be in one place and not move for a while.

There were eight of us at coffee yesterday. We are all so different…yet so similar. We’ve gone through a lot of the same things…sometimes at the same time…sometimes not. The wonderful thing about being “of a certain age” is our ability to relate to so many different experiences. One of my friends lost her mom a year ago Friday. She’s been experiencing all the things the come with that and I was so happy to see her reaching out as she lifts herself up from that slump we all go through in the year after a significant loss.

One of the gals had never been to one of our coffees. She knew some of us but not all. I never knew her in school, but she knew Mr. FixIt. She is introverted, as so many are. And she was stretching her boundaries to reach out and make new friends. That is not an easy thing to do when you’re sixty-six. We welcomed her with open arms. I watched a change come over her as the two hours passed. When she came in, her shoulders were tense…her eyes searching for a familiar face. By the time she left, her eyes danced and her dazzling smile said she had reached a happy place. Her cup was being filled.

As we chatted about the places we find ourselves on this journey, I told the girls we cannot expect to fill others with an empty cup. We have to get replenished…to drink from the well and be filled ourselves. I told them…it is not selfish to practice self-care. I love that we are there for each other…this variety of women whose singular most common thread is the high school class we graduated from.

I feel so much better now after being home a few weeks. I’ve rested. I’m sleeping well. I’ve had lots of hugs from my sweetheart and snuggled my great grandbabies. This week is Thanksgiving. Our plans are fluid. We might go to my cousin’s house. We might just stay home. Our local family Thanksgiving celebration is next Sunday. This is a week for all of us to reflect on the blessings we have…whether we are on the mountain top…or in a dark valley.

This is our time to look for ways to fill up our cups. When I look to God first as my Source, I’m filled with Living Water. When I look to my loved ones second, I’m filled with the blessings He has already given me. As you walk into this week, may you remember to fill your cup first so you can be a fount of inspiration for others. And may you encounter peace and love.

❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13 NIV

Story Update: Little Gwen

Wed, 20 Nov 2019 02:30:01 -0600

“We’ve been following Little Gwen since she was born with Arthrogryposis. Look…she’s standing!!!”

Last year I wrote about little Gwen. Her grandma is my friend, Jody who graduated with Daughter #1. Gwen was born with Arthrogryposis. I posted a picture of her back then with her little twisted legs and hands. One knee bent completely backwards and her foot sat in front of her face. Her jaw is severely recessed and because of that, her swallowing is restricted. She has had a feeding tube ever since she was a newborn.

God knew what He was doing when He brought Gwen to her family. I can’t imagine any family any better equipped to handle the severe challenges that lay in front of them. They stand up and deliver the very best for Gwen and are her true champions.

Gwen has had more than her share of setbacks in her short life with frequent hospitalizations. In spite of the Arthrogryposis, she has come further than anyone could have imagined. She has the best medical team around and has made great strides.

Her legs are straight now but she still wears braces to help keep them growing right. Her little feet aren’t moving with the braces like they had hoped so she may need to have surgery to fix them. These are difficult decisions for young parents to make. This surgery may help her feet move into a better position. However, it can also condemn her to wearing braces on her legs the rest of her life. That’s a lot to consider. It isn’t an emergency, so Mom and Dad are getting a second opinion.

I wanted to share Gwen’s most recent photo. This picture just warmed my heart. Look at her standing up! I’m so happy for her and her family. They’ve worked so hard to see every little milestone. I know they get discouraged from time to time, but they are the first to get right back up and encourage Gwennie to be her best little self…no matter what life brings her way!

Won’t you join me in lifting Gwen and her family up in prayer? Pray that they find the perfect solution for her little feet. Pray that her body gets strong and that illness stays away from her. Pray for strength and courage, joy and peace for her and her entire family. They are a faith-filled family and know where their every blessing comes from. Praises for her accomplishments.

We love you, little Gwen! Keep up the good work and remember, God is with you always!

❤️

“Then Jesus said to his host, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.””
Luke 14:12-14 NIV

Healing and Scars and Joy

Tue, 19 Nov 2019 02:30:14 -0600

“Although grief is never finished, healing can occur and you can use your scars to help others.”

Grief doesn’t run in a straight line. Anything but. We’d love to see the slow and steady climb from that deep, dark valley head right up the side of that mountain to joy. But, unfortunately…it just doesn’t happen that way. Grief runs all skwiggly-skwog…up and down, back and forth, around and around and around.

At first you don’t think you are making any progress at all. You can’t feel anything but pain. You cant see two minutes in front of you. It’s a bloody wonder we survive at all. The world is dark. No color…no sound…and certainly no joy.

One of the things people had the hardest time understanding in my early writing was the “gems in the flames”. I always looked for those gifts God left for me along my path as he led me through the fire. This wasn’t just a Pollyanna attempt to keep my glass half full. This was an exercise in faith knowing that…even in my darkest, most painful moments…my cup was still full to overflowing because Jesus was in that valley with me. Urging me on. Asking me to trust Him and just take one more step.

It’s easy to have faith when things are looking good. When you’re standing on the mountaintop and you’re feeling great, you may even forget to thank God for carrying you through the muck. Or, you might throw a cursory “Thanks!” His way then think “I’ve got this!” No, it’s when you’re down at your lowest…when life is hard and painful and dirty and ugly…and you beg for God to catch you and bring you out of this that you lean in closest.

When you’re walking the road of grief and things hurt so bad and grieving tears your heart out of your chest, you may very well be tempted to take a shortcut. Circumvent the whole process, push that nasty wad of grief way, way down deep inside and slap a smile on your face. Because, let’s face it…that’s what the world is usually asking you to do. “Aren’t you over this yet?” “You just need to _____________” (fill in the blank with any of a zillion suggestions you receive). The sheer variety of platitudes is mind numbing.

Oh, you can try to walk around it or climb under it, but one of these days, that bandage is going to come off and you’re going to have to face grief head on and it’s going to be ten times worse than it was before. At least, that’s what happened with me when I tried to date someone way…WAY too soon after Mr. Virgo died.

Even four years after Mr. Virgo died and I started dating Mr. Fixit, I was still pretty broken. Fortunately, he has a huge heart and an infinite amount of patience with me. He allowed me to talk it all through with him. He’s a great listener. Then one day, I didn’t feel compelled to talk about it as much and my heart truly started to heal.

Mr. Virgo came along when I was in a really vulnerable place. I had gone through a particularly difficult and ugly breakup/divorce five years before. And still, for the first year, that man listened oh so patiently as I went though all the gory details and told him every sad and angry story. He saw the potential and he invested in our love.

Both of these men love me with the white hot heat of the sun. Neither relationship would have ever worked had I not already worked through a lot of the pain of grief…both that of divorce and that of death. Those two men I dated between Mr. Virgo’s death and Mr. FixIt’s arrival though? Oy! I bled all over them from wounds they never caused. It wasn’t fair to them. I hate that I was blind and couldn’t see past my own need for a tourniquet.

Fortunately, I did come to some understanding how unfair it was to another person to try to have a relationship too soon. That’s when I stopped trying to date and started a serious relationship with Jesus. Then…when I was in a much better place…I was ready to open my heart and try again. It isn’t easy. There’s nothing about grief that is easy. And if you are in the throes of it, you will not understand this, but…I’ve come to look at every situation with a level of Joy. Maybe not jump up and down happy-happy joy. But with the Joy of knowing I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and will never, ever leave me. I have Jesus to hang onto when I go through the worst of situations. THAT Joy….that Joy with a capital “J”.

There is Joy in the scars because you have the opportunity to share your story with others. You have the opportunity to reach back to others coming behind you who are trying to find their footing in their pain. Your scars give you the freedom to love others. Your scars give you validity. They show others they aren’t alone. And when you can be there for another who hurts like you once hurt, you give the greatest gift possible. Empathy.

You don’t have to have flowery words. You don’t have to offer Hallmark phrases. You can give a hug, sit quietly, or just be honest and say, “Whew…I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you.” It’s isn’t easy to be there for someone who’s in pain, but it is so fulfilling to know you can somehow help another human being when they’re hurting.

Being vulnerable. Being available. Being open and honest. That is where I find my Joy in grief.

❤️

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

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors: Setting and Keeping Boundaries

Sat, 16 Nov 2019 02:30:26 -0600

“Setting boundaries is like building a good fence. It keeps life neat and tidy.”

Growing up in a dysfunctional home in the ‘50s and ‘60s with an alcoholic father taught me a lot of things. But how to set and keep boundaries was not one of them. Heck, I didn’t have a clue what the term meant. My family of origin was so codependent, there was very little demarcation between where I ended and where others started.

This carried into my adult relationships. I married men who were equally codependent and it nearly killed me. After Hubby #2 and I split up, I bought Melody Beattie’s book…Codependent No More. It was eye opening. I will never forget the day I drew the line in the sand, creating a kind of demilitarized zone between us. The look on his face was “shock and awe”.

That was the day I began to own myself. I set clear boundaries and expectations. I demanded respect because, for the first time in my life, I felt true self respect. It was liberating. As I’ve gotten older, there are some boundaries set in stone, but others have become a little more flexible offering some give and take while still keeping the searchlights on the perimeter.

I was watching the hearings yesterday for the Impeachment Inquiry. I was impressed at the poise and dignity shown by the former U.S. ambassador, Marie Yovanovitch. She never lost her cool. She answered with the aplomb one would expect from a seasoned diplomat. That is, until one of the female panel members (I’m sorry, I cannot remember her name) started a line of questioning that got personal.

Her question…how did this affect you…elicited a guarded response. “I am a very private person, but…well, it’s been difficult.”

“How has this affected your family?”

Women recognize the look on the ambassador’s face. She was crumbling behind that mask. Then, instead of capitulating and answering, she said, “I’d really rather not answer that…” immediately followed with a sincere, “but, thank you for asking.” That’s a boundary. I know it sounds condescending, but I felt so proud of her in that moment.

Women are programmed from a very young age that it isn’t polite not to answer someone’s question. That’s ridiculous. Just because someone asks does NOT mean you need to answer. This boundary can come in very handy when you are a widow. You can say no. You can change your mind. What sounded great three weeks ago may not work when it comes down to going. It’s ok to say no. It’s ok to change your mind.

I was talking with Daughter #1 last night. She was telling me about Big being on two swim teams…the competitive club team and her high school team. The new high school coach wants all the team members to come to swim practice all the time. So does the club coach. My granddaughter is all of 15 and she has set boundaries for what she can and cannot achieve. They need her because she’s good. She isn’t being a prima dona about it…she just knows her limitations. The coach tried a threatening tactic. “If you don’t come to all the practices, you won’t letter.” “That’s ok I just want to swim with my friends and be on the team I already lettered for swimming .” As a matter of fact, she’s lettered in swimming and academics (STEM) and has been inducted in the National Honor Society. Yeah, she’s good without the threats.

It warmed my heart to hear how my daughter stood up for and respected her own daughter’s boundaries. This is how we raise healthy young women to be strong and stand up for themselves. Because today it’s the swim team. Tomorrow it’s the college professors or coaches or football players. She needs to be able to set and keep boundaries for her own health and safety.

Making and keeping boundaries was a new life skill that I didn’t learn until I was in my 50’s. Now I’m at the point where I relish the opportunities to help younger people establish this skill in their own lives. It’s not only valuable, it’s absolutely necessary to protect your mental and physical self.

❤️

“Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load.”
Galatians 6:4-5 NIV

Shelves of Memories

Tue, 12 Nov 2019 02:30:47 -0600

“The antique jelly cupboard from the farm now houses my quilts.”

When I showed you my beautiful jelly cupboard that I recently moved from the farm, many of you asked to see it when I had the quilts inside. As I sat working in the living room at the Ponderosa yesterday afternoon, the warm sunshine streaming through the big windows made its way to the cupboard. The shelves sat empty and glaring at me. I set my work aside and went on the hunt for my quilts. They have been put away since the wedding a year ago and it was about time they were brought out for all to see.

I am of the mindset not to “save the good china”. I want what few antiques I have curated to be displayed and used in my everyday life. Part of this is because my kids more than likely will not be interested in them. And partly because one of the lessons Mr. Virgo unwittingly taught me was…life is short. Use the crystal and the quilts.

When the unfortunate parting of the ways came on Christmas of 2014, just ten weeks after I arrived to help my Aunt Peeps, I didn’t know what to do with the cherished items I brought from Colorado. Five thousand pounds of stuff I didn’t believe I could part with became an albatross around my neck. I couldn’t leave it at the farm and I couldn’t take it with me on the road. My good friend, Steve, let me store a lot of it in his basement. And I decided many of the most cherished family keepsakes should go live with my cousin, Tammy. That way I can visit them and she can enjoy them.

My quilts were one of the things I simply could not part with and I carefully stored them away for the perfect way to display them again. Once they were safely tucked on the aged bittersweet colored shelves of the jelly cupboard, I sat back to observe my handiwork. I realized something heartwarming.

For the last few years, I have been dreading the day when I can no longer visit or spend time in Grandma’s old red farmhouse. That day will come…when, I don’t know. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it is that change is the only thing we can count on in this earthy plane. As I sat and looked at the worn wood the color of a caramel apple, I realized I could feel the farmhouse. I could see the hump in the floor where it’s settled over the years. The old faded linoleum that made cleaning much easier. I could hear the squeak of the stairs and the way the spring squeals when the screen door slams. I could see the boxes of Wheaties that Pop-Pop kept on the top of the cupboard for his dessert after supper. I could hear the faint sound the doors made when I reached in as a little girl…taking the mishmash collection of dishes out to set the table or putting them back in after hand washing and drying.

In that moment I realized that, even though the house may someday be inaccessible to me, this jelly cupboard is the heart of what is left of the beautiful childhood memories created within the crooked walls of a crooked little house in West Virginia. And…it is mine. Combining households with Mr. FixIt has definitely expanded our “footprint”, however…we each have things that are our personal possessions. While I don’t believe I will ever accumulate “stuff” like I did before Mr. Virgo died, what I do have will be things that are beautiful, useful, and that bring me joy.

❤️

“That precious memory triggers another...”
2 Timothy 1:5-7 MSG

Tell Me About Yourself

Mon, 11 Nov 2019 02:30:15 -0600

“It’s Monday…Let’s do something different!”

It’s Monday! It’s a brand new week and I wanted to do something different. We will be heading into the holidays soon and I’ve been reading posts where people already have their holiday shopping done. And wrapped! I wish I could say the same…but I’ve been a little busy!

Do you, or someone close to you, have an online business that sells gifts appropriate for holiday gifting or decorating? If so, please leave a link to your website or favorite item in the comments. I’m all about supporting small businesses and independent artisans.

Are you a writer, poet, artist, photographer, singer, songwriter, actor, or other creative? Drop a link to your content or social media sites. I’m all about supporting creative people.

Do you have a special talent you’d like to share? Is there something about you that’s fascinating? Do you have a story that needs telling that might help someone else? Tell us in the comments below or give us a link to share. I’m all about promoting people in their efforts to gain a platform.

I was thinking about this in church yesterday. It’s not always all about me. God has given me this wonderful platform to touch the loves of others. It shouldn’t be just through my words. It should also be through yours. Everyone has a story. Everyone has a gift…a talent…a skill. Stories should be told because they will always help someone else. Talents and gifts should be shared as examples of what God does in our lives. We are here to lift each other up and I’d love to start out the week with a stepping stone.

What do YOU do? Where are YOU from? What moves YOU? Let’s learn about each other.

❤️

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

Between the Trees

Sun, 27 Oct 2019 01:30:43 -0600

“Sitting by the river is soothing to the soul.”

Being a writer is a wonderful thing. I can get lost in a blank page, creating worlds from my thoughts. It’s like magic…making something from nothing. I pray over my keyboard. I ask God to bring me words to say and people who need them. I am humbled when someone reaches out and tells me how my words have encouraged them or helped to ease the pain of their particular loss. I am quick to tell them…it is not me. I am merely the transcriptionist.

When I pray the Prayer of Jabez, I ask for God to give me those Blessings with my name on them. I ask Him to expand my territory and to walk with His hand over me to keep evil far from me so that I may not feel/cause pain. I love when He brings people to me. It happens daily and I am so blessed by His generosity.

As I sat yesterday in the r-pod, working on a writing project, I noticed the camper next door had turned their outdoor speakers up and were playing loud music. Not over-the-top loud…just annoying because it was disturbing my flow. I stopped and looked at the clock. Just after noon. I had been working straight through since breakfast. I sighed and closed my iPad.

Should I go say something to the people? Should I give them a stern look as I pass by? Should I report them to the park office? I sat and prayed for discernment and wisdom. As I washed up the breakfast dishes, I looked out and there were two children…maybe ‘tweens…carving pumpkins! They didn’t have their noses glued to an electronic device. They were camping with their family and doing fun, creative things in the outdoors.

I smiled as I dried my hands. Just WHO is the one with her nose glued to an electronic device? Oh, yes…that would be ME! I laughed as I looked up and said, “Ok, ok…I get the hint!” After taking a look around the camper to make sure things were unplugged and safe to leave, I donned my jacket and headed to the Fall Harvest Festival.

I watched a chainsaw artist carve a bear out of a log. I sat and listened to some live Bluegrass music. I went to the river and sat in a chair and read for an hour. I put my book away and just breathed in the smells of the day. The aroma of good food from the lodge kitchen. The smell of wet leaves and swift river water. The earthy smell of wool as the sun warmed my sweater. I closed my eyes and listened to children throwing rocks in the river and an elderly couple chatting softly as they walked slowly by…their feet shuffling through the leaves.

I thanked God for reminding me to remove the plank in my own eye before I asked my neighbor to remove the sliver from theirs.

It was a really good day.

❤️

“You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
Matthew 7:5 NIV

Time Travel

Sat, 26 Oct 2019 01:30:14 -0600

“Coffee and sunshine and a little nosh!”

As I explored the latest West Virginia State Park on my camping itinerary yesterday, I took a king sized jump back in time. The last time I was at this particular park was with Hubby #2. I can’t tell you the year, but my guess is it was the summer of 1979, although it could have been later. I remember bits and pieces of that trip. I remember feeling so extravagant to travel to such beautiful places. We stayed a night in this lodge I am sitting in as I write this post. Oh, my…so much water over the dam since then.

I sat there in the morning sunshine, watching the river making riffles on the smooth stones below. The trees are yellow and brown and still-green here. Tiny little splashes of red and orange peek through as you move your eyes across the steep hillside at the far edge of the river. By 1:00 in the afternoon, the brilliant sun of morning gave way to the clouds portending the heavy storms predicted this weekend.

I haven’t met a West Virginia State Park I haven’t liked. This trip has seriously been magical and something my heart and soul so desperately needed, if for no other reason that to remind me how dearly I love Mr. FixIt. Not that there has ever been a question. We all have a tendency to get wrapped up in the busyness of life and forget to stop and appreciate what we have. I’m just as guilty of that as anyone.

Getting away also reminds me of the independence I cultivated for my self after Mr. Virgo died. I either got out and had adventures, or I would spend the rest of my life sitting at home alone. And that is just not me. I need solitude from time to time…to refresh and recharge and stretch my abilities. When I do that, I am a much better partner for my husband. I am more patient, more loving, and decidedly happier. This is a benefit for both of us.

I’ve been gone for quite a bit this year. Between Girl Camping trips, six weeks in Colorado for my daughter’s wedding, and this Charity Trailer Raffle Tour, I think I have spent more time away from home than I was there. I have a patient husband, to be sure. But we are missing each other a lot so we are working on our itinerary for the next two months and figuring out the best way to travel AND be together.

It is supposed to rain a lot this weekend so I’ve saved my writing and indoor projects till then. I need to take advantage of the sunshine when I can. When I woke up yesterday morning, it was 37 degrees. By the time I rousted myself to get coffee, it was 8:00 and 42 degrees. I took the electric griddle outside and cooked with it sitting on the picnic table. I fried a whole package of bacon and carefully placed the cooked strip between layers of paper towels and slipped the entire batch into a zip lock bag. Stored in the refrigerator, these will be eaten up long before they would spoil. I did the same with a batch of pancakes and stored them two to a sandwich bag. That way, I’ve cooked several days of breakfasts ahead of time. When it’s raining this weekend, I can still have outdoor cooked meals.

As I finished writing this piece, I watched a little boy, maybe four or five years old…walking along the river. Bright yellow leaves rained down around him. With hands reached out, he laughed as he tried to catch them…his feet crunching on those he missed. He picked up rocks on the river bank and watched out for his little brother toddling along behind him. They were out with their dad. I love seeing dads with their littles…teaching, loving, experiencing the joy of the day. I close with this thought. Wouldn’t it be a better world if the littles spent more time outside with their dads? Or moms, if dad isn’t around? Or with anyone who loves them and wants to teach them about the world and about life? Wouldn’t it be better than handing a child an electronic device to keep them quiet…engaged in learning what someone else is teaching them? Maybe something that isn’t reflective of your values? I’m not being judgmental here. There were plenty of times I let my own little watch too much TV in order to have some peace. It just seems we are raising a generation that’s greatest skill is dissociation. I’m not sure how you put the smoke back in the bottle.

With that thought, I have spent entirely too much of my morning sitting here with my own set of electronic diversions so I’m heading out to enjoy this day before the rains come and I get stuck inside. I hope you have a beautiful weekend wherever you are. Put the phone down…go outside and play. You’re never too old to “go places and do things”, as the Girl Campers say!

❤️

“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

Less is More

Thu, 24 Oct 2019 04:10:38 -0600

“My favorite boots.”

Ok…you all know me. You know I have something to say about…you know, everything. I’ve been known to turn a phrase. I’ve been able to paint pictures with my words. It’s not me…it’s all God. But, as I sat down last night to write this post, I was at a total loss for words. Yesterday was just about the most beautiful day I have ever seen and I didn’t have anyone to share it with. Not in real time, anyway. Mr. FixIt is still at home, picking pears and cleaning out the last of the garden. And there’s all of you. And Kaye and her fella, “Not John Hancock” (sorry, I’ve forgotten his first name but it’s definitely NOT John). I met them on a hike in Beartown State Park.

I just spent the whole day yesterday gobsmacked at every turn. It started when I awoke before dawn and saw the fog settling in on the river. I jumped up in the dark, threw on my camp clothes and muck boots, and headed down the road in the campground. I got down on the riverbank and waited. I’ve learned to wait patiently for the light. There’s a moment…just a fleeting moment, when the light is perfect and the color is perfect and the subject is perfect. It happens every day…but most of the time, we aren’t there to catch it. Or we aren’t paying attention.

If you blink, you can miss it….that one perfect shot. That one picture that says “WOW”. You can take 500 shots and have one, if you’re lucky. Or, you can take 500 shots and have SO many that just knock your socks off and you can’t choose. Some I need to keep aside for the project I’m working on. And some, while I would love to share them with you today, are just too big and the internet here at the campground won’t handle it. You’ll have to wait.

So, I chose this one. I was standing by the river, waiting for the perfect light, when I looked down and saw this colorful array of leaves around my feet. Simple. Yet it says so much. These feet have carried me for sixty-six years now. They’ve run and jumped, danced and snuggled. They’ve kicked and stomped and run away from so many things. But this day…this day they stood…patiently waiting for the perfect light. In a pair of boots that my Aunt Peeps gave me years ago. They are one of my most prized possessions. Rugged. Sturdy. Utilitarian. And practical on a wet, foggy morning on a riverbank.

These boots symbolize where I am in my life. I’m comfortable. Happy in my own skin, just for the sake of being happy. There’s something to be said for that kind of simplicity. And for knowing when less is more.

❤️

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:21 ESV

Coffee with Wanda Belle

Wed, 23 Oct 2019 01:30:12 -0600

“The many colors of Autumn”

I was pouring my coffee yesterday and my mom popped in my head. She often does, but yesterday she “came” to have coffee with me. Mom loved her coffee…hot and black. She had a Pyrex coffee pot and I was enamored with the way you could watch the coffee brewing…bubbling up through the center tube into the glass handle of the lid then seeping down through the grounds. There was never a time when there wasn’t coffee on the stove.

Until she got older. Then it was “too much work” or “the pot is just too heavy to lift”. Then she turned to Sanka. Ok, there might be some of you who like Sanka. If you do, I mean no offense…I don’t mean to “yuck your yum”. But…ugh! Any instant coffee is a poor substitute for the real thing, in my humble opinion. I felt she had just…settled.

As I poured my coffee and thought of Mom, I could almost hear her say, “Why are you bothering with this whole rigamarole? You get out the grinder and the beans. You measure and grind till it’s just so. You measure again and pour the bottled water in the coffee maker. You plug it in and wait. What an ordeal. Just get yourself a jar of Sanka!”

I smiled.

“Yeah…no, Mom. It my routine. It’s my pleasure. When I have that first sip of hot, strong coffee (with cream and stevia, please) I’m in heaven!” Is it more work? Not that much. When I first started this trip, I bought a “pour over” thingy. I used it for the first week or two and stopped at the first Walmart I came across to buy a 4-cup Mr. Coffee. That’s the perfect size to fill my Tervis coffee cup twice. And the second cup is hot in the electric coffee maker.

Someone gave me a hand grinder and a French press many years ago. I used it when I was on The Grand Adventure in Colorado those three months after Mr. Virgo died. Many times I didn’t have electricity but I wasn’t about to turn to instant. Making coffee off the grid was a lot more work than this…but oh, it was the best coffee ever! I thought about bringing that setup with me on this trip but I knew, even without electricity, I can use the little Mr. Coffee because of the solar panels on the roof of the r-pod. Isn’t that a trip? I haven’t tried it yet…but I will before this ride is over.

I’m camping in the woods again this time. I love waking to see the trees all around, to hear the wind rustle through the leaves, to step out of the camper into the glorious light of autumn shining with that rare amber light of fall. I believe I’ll take my coffee down to the river and set a spell before I start my project of the day. I hope you get outside and enjoy some of this before winter sets in.

❤️

“You make darkness, and it is night, when all the beasts of the forest creep about. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening.”
Psalms 104:20-23 ESV

Waiting for Home

Sun, 20 Oct 2019 01:30:07 -0600

“The house I wanted for a B&B in Elkins…it always makes me wonder…what if?”

I’m not kidding when I say I spent just about every moment of the forty years I lived in Colorado waiting for the day I could move back home. Oh, there was a stretch of time when I was young and cocky and I thought I knew better than those “old fogeys” back home who were SO out of touch. Little did I know I would give my right arm to return to my roots one day.

I had the opportunity to come home when Hubby #1 and I split up, but I turned it down. My daughter was about three years old at the time, and I wanted her to have broader horizons than I had growing up so I elected to stay in Denver where I had no family support and a relatively small social circle.

When I was married to Hubby #2, there was some talk about going back home, but he is a Colorado boy, born and bred. You just don’t take them out of that climate and plop them down in humidity. I remember dreaming at night that if anything happened to him, I’d hightail it home as fast as I could.

Then, Mr. Virgo came along. He was my best bet to get back because he was born and raised in South Philly. But he had tried his whole life to get back to Colorado, which he adored, so I knew there was a very slim chance we’d actually move back to West Virginia. However, I did get him to discuss the possibilities of owning a B&B somewhere back here.

I’ll never forget those days when we would do internet searches for B&B’s for sale. We found a big house in the historic district of Parkersburg that was a real possibility. But the one I had my heart set on was actually here in Elkins, WV. It was right across the road from the back side of the Davis & Elkins campus. It had seven bedrooms and five full baths with a large commercial kitchen. I was in love!

Mr. Virgo? Not so much. This is where the wheat was separated from the chaff and I realized it was never gonna happen. He had put his roots down in Colorado and there would be no budging that man. Now, every time I am near here, I have to drive past “my B&B”. I have no idea who bought it. It doesn’t look as though it has been turned back into the B&B it was many years ago. When I see it, I am reminded that we don’t work on our time. We work on God’s time. And it wasn’t time for me to be here back then.

I do have an affinity for this little town though. Mostly because of the college and the Augusta Heritage Center which works to preserve the old timey ways of our ancestors. I was thrilled to spend the afternoon with “my people”…folks who obviously love their heritage as much as I do. I’ve seen some beautiful places on this trip already. But I think this stop has been my favorite so far. I just wish Mr. FixIt could have been with me. He would have enjoyed this so much.

❤️

“And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not.”
Deuteronomy 8:2 ESV

Eat, Pray, Camp!

Wed, 16 Oct 2019 01:30:46 -0600

“The r-pod 196 nestled in the trees at Cedar Creek State Park near Glenville, WV”

I moved to the next campground easily enough yesterday morning. Mr. FixIt met me at the McDonald’s in Glenville for breakfast so I could get my travel coordinates before we parted company for another couple of weeks. We had the BEST weekend! It was our first wedding anniversary, which I had told you about. When he arrived at the campground Saturday night, he greeted me with a dozen roses and a sweet card. I greeted him with a warm supper and a big hug. We hiked, biked, and chatted with folks he knew in the campground. (Have I told you he knows EVERYONE?!) We rested and watched movies and took naps. And we just flat out enjoyed not having cell service or TV to distract us from enjoying each other’s company. It was wonderful!

Speaking of no cell service, we had just finished eating lunch out in front of our camper on Monday when Mr. FixIt’s phone rang! We could barely hear a woman’s voice and she was saying something about coming to the office. We thought it must have something to do with his insurance policy because the call came from his agent’s office. That was really weird.

After lunch, we decided to go for a bike ride around the state park. It’s such a great place to ride bikes because the campground is essentially flat. When we got back to the camper, Mr. FixIt reached to remove his wallet from his back pocket and…it was GONE! We looked in both trucks and all over the camper and campsite, but he figured he had to have lost it when he was riding his bike.

I hadn’t realized till I got back to the camper that he wasn’t right behind me. I got off my bike and took off my helmet and gloves and here he came. It turned out he had gotten his shoe lace wrapped around the bike pedal and had to stop at the camp store to get untangled. He assumed that is where he lost the wallet. So, we got in the truck. I prayed out loud.

“Jesus, please help us find my husband’s wallet!”

We took off driving very slowly…looking for a brown wallet amongst the equally brown leaves all over the roadway. We hadn’t had any luck when we passed a couple out for a walk.

“You haven’t happened to find a wallet, have you?”

“Nope…sorry. We haven’t seen a thing!”

“Ok, we’ll keep looking. Thanks!”

While we were talking to the couple who were walking, another couple rode past us on their bikes on the other side of the truck.

Suddenly, we heard the walking couple.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

I looked in the rear view mirror and they were waving us back and pointing at the couple on the bike. The bikers rode up to us.

“You looking for a wallet? I just turned one in at the park headquarters building! They have it waiting for you!”

I stuck my hand out the window and looked up and shouted, “Thank you, Jesus!!!”

We drove on up to the building at the park entrance and sure enough, it was Mr. FixIt’s wallet…intact with his one lone dollar bill and his credit cards. As we were driving back to the camper, he looked at me and said, “Man, that was really lucky!”

I looked at him with a level stare and said, “No, honey…luck had nothing to do with that. What did I do as soon as we got in the truck? I prayed that Jesus would help us find your wallet, didn’t I?” He nodded in agreement. “Then, we asked the walkers if they found a wallet and they didn’t. But they asked the bikers, and THEY did…and had turned it in. All in the space of about ten minutes after I prayed! That was a prayer answered, sweetheart…plain and simple.”

He had to agree. Especially when we were sitting at breakfast yesterday and he checked his phone.

“Huh…I have a missed call.” It was from the same number that got through in an area with no phone service. They had called back and left us this message.

“Hi there…this is __________ from you insurance agent’s office. We received a call from the folks at Cedar Creek State Park saying someone found your wallet. You need to check in with the headquarters office to get it back.”

I looked at Mr. FixIt and smiled. “See? You can add getting a phone call in an area with no cell service about your lost wallet to the list of steps God took to return it to you!”

I’m gobsmacked when God does these things…especially when it shows another person that He’s really REAL and cares about ALL the things, not just the big stuff. Even a wallet that falls out in the leaves.

❤️

“If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.”
John 15:7 NIV

All Good Things...

Mon, 07 Oct 2019 01:30:46 -0600

“The curtain closes on another successful Fall What-a-Hoot!”

What a FUN event we had this weekend at the Fourth Annual Fall What-a-Hoot at Beaver Creek State Park with the Girl Campers! OMGosh…we ate and laughed and knitted and crafted. We sat around the campfire every night and talked and talked and talked. We toured each other’s campers. We broke in a newbie. We hugged and prayed and praised.

We antiqued and flea marketed and shopped and faired. We watched a movie on the big screen outdoors. We captured sunrises and sunsets. We cooked and shared recipes. We shared pictures of the kids and grandkids and great grandkids. We taught and shared. We listened. We embraced each other’s differences. We lifted each other up. We included everyone and made everyone feel welcome and special. You know what we didn’t do? We didn’t talk politics. We didn’t watch TV. We didn’t complain…about anything. Not even the 41 degree morning. Ok, maybe a little about the mosquitoes. And those folks on that one site that had a WAY too big fire and a drunken party till the wee hours of Sunday morning that kept some gals awake. Oh, and did I say…NO POLITICS! It was heavenly! The weekend ended with a much, MUCH needed rain. I’m staying on for another extra night since it’s supposed to rain all day today. I have writing to do and some trip planning. I’m also going to work on a little project I’ll share with you soon.

Happy Monday, everyone!

❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13 NIV

Setting up the “Spare Room”

Sat, 05 Oct 2019 01:30:44 -0600

“Converting the sofa to a spare bed in the RPod 196!”

I’m Back!!! Mr. FixIt and I had a wonderful time camping together and the little break was just what I needed to recharge. There’s nothing like being in the woods in a little camper. Losing Mr. Virgo taught me to really appreciate every moment and this week has been grand!

On Monday, we checked into Tomlinson Run State Park in the tippy top of the Northern Panhandle of West Virginia. The drive up was lovely as we followed the Ohio River on Rt. 7. Mr. FixIt drove separately and followed along behind me. We got to our campsite by mid-afternoon and unhooked. It’s a lovely campground, located on top of a hill and densely wooded. The sites are all nicely spaced apart from each other. We had electric but no water. That’s not a problem, really. You just use the water you carry with you in your fresh water tanks. We rode our bikes around the campground, we cooked outside, and we spent as much time as we could sitting out looking at the stars.

We left Tomlinson Run on Wednesday and headed to Beaver Creek to meet up with the Girl Campers. Mr. FixIt loves to hang out with the girls and they really enjoy him as well. We had fires in the Solo Stove which is wonderful…so much less smoke than a conventional campfire but still enough that you feel as though you had the camping experience. We had some rain here Wednesday night. Quite a bit actually.

Mr. Fixit left yesterday mid-day to head home. My friend Diane joined me last night. Diane graduated from high school with me but we didn’t know each other back then. She and I didn’t really become good friends till I moved to the family farm in West Virginia in 2014…the year after Mr. Virgo died. I needed to find someone who could help me unload a truck so I called her to get a recommendation. We became fast friends after that.

I tried to get her to camp with me several years ago, but Motel 8 is roughing it to Diane. Then, when she found out I was taking the RPod out for a road test, she texted me with a bombshell. She wanted to come camping with me! She knew I’d be writing about my camping experiences and wanted to offer her services as “blog fodder”. “Camping with the Non-Camper!” Brilliant! This could either be really, really good…or really, really bad. I’m happy to report that, so far, she seems to be having a grand time! She fits right in with these great gals.

As is always the case, there’s always a good deal of food at these events and last night was a smorgasbord. Tonight is soup night…my favorite night during What a Hoot. Everyone brings their A-game on soup night and we all go around taste testing each person’s creation. I decided to do something a little bit different this year and make beef and noodles. I’ll stick the chuck roast in the crock pot in the morning and let it simmer all day. It will be a welcome addition, I am sure.

This morning was predicted to be 41 degrees! After a long stretch of hot, dry weather, I am really welcoming the cooler temperatures of fall. I needed to make a reconfiguration of the camper to accommodate my guest. I turned the jack knife sofa into a twin bed. The back of the sofa is a little bit higher than the seat when it’s laid out flat. I bought some firm upholstery foam sheets to lay down on the lower section to make an even base and place my inflatable mattress on top. It was cool enough for the furnace. Today is Pioneer Days down in the Historic Village. The grist mill will be running and there will be tours of the village buildings. Our friend Gail’s son wrote a book about the haunted history of Beaver Creek and will be on hand to sign his books.

So far, the trip is fabulous and so is the RPod 196! The tickets are on sale on girlcamper.com for $10 each and the proceeds benefit the Hold You Foundation, an organization that assists families with critically ill children. This is a wonderful chance to support a worthy cause as well and get the opportunity to buy a wonderful camper! It’s good to be back!

❤️

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

We’ve Come a Long Way Baby!

Mon, 16 Sep 2019 01:30:40 -0600

“Camping in the early days in Denver. This is just down the street from where Ben & Sue live!”

Janine and I spent our time at the RV Show yesterday browsing around for content for our blogs. We stood for eight hours and walked nearly 10,000 steps. By the time the show was finished, we were exhausted but then there was work to be done. Processing and editing photos, writing blog posts, calculating trip routes and travel times. All the logistics that come with the postmortems of a travel show.

I’ll bet we didn’t get to see one tenth of this show. And even that was overwhelming. We did see a couple of really cool campers. We saw some really EXPENSIVE campers. We saw everything from bargain basement, bare bones boxes to luxury on wheels. It’s amazing what some of the interiors of these campers look like. Marble counters, high end furnishings, and appliances that look like they come out of the finest kitchens. It boggles the mind that people would pay half a million dollars for a fancy bus.

There are so many accessories….many that you definitely don’t need, but there are lots that were pretty handy. One was a rechargeable work light that would work well to illuminate a campsite if you arrive in the dark and need to back in. We have some really fun accessories that I’ll be sharing with you after the big reveal next week. We are still holding back the majority of the photos till then.

In the meantime, they are breaking down the show overnight. I need to get a smaller ball on my hitch to fit the new camper. Janine and I are heading to the Ponderosa today then to Huntington tomorrow. We’ll dry camp out in the field tonight! So please keep us in your prayers for travel mercies today. I am so excited about pulling this camper today!

❤️

“For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.”
Proverbs 2:6 NIV

The Really REALLY Big Show!

Sun, 15 Sep 2019 01:30:02 -0600

“Janine, her BFF Carol, and me in front of the R Pod at the Hershey RV Show.”

Ok, so I thought Friday’s show was busy? Hokey Smokes!!! Yesterday was absolutely insane at the RV Show…but SO amazingly fun! Hundreds of people came and walked through the camper. Everyone loved the decor and if they didn’t…it was probably a guy. Guys don’t necessarily get the whole “decorate your camper” thing. That’s why most campers are varying themes of BROWN. I think a guy takes a look and says, “Yeah…that won’t show dirt. Use that!”

I do have to say, the folks at Forest River are stepping up their game in the new R Pod. The cabinets are a lovely shade of grey and the walls are off white. It is a perfect canvas on which to decorate in whatever style strikes your fancy. The light colors along with multiple large windows brings in an abundance of light which is exactly what I am looking for in a camper. I am going to switch the mattress out. I’ve never found an RV mattress that I found satisfactory. I am very choosy about my mattresses. I have an extra memory foam mattress at home so I’ll switch it out when I’m there next week.

Janine and I were so exhausted when we got back to our hotel room yesterday. We both took a long nap, then headed out for dinner. Our meal was ok. I was disappointed in my main course. I had pasta and meat sauce with Italian sausage. The sausage had been left in the skillet too long and was actually burnt. When the waitress took my plate, she asked if there was something wrong. I explained and she offered something different. By that time I was full from just the pasta and sauce and didn’t care for anything else.

Pretty soon, the manage/owner came out to talk with me. He said he took my entree off the check. In the process of our discussion, I informed him I had a good understanding of what he was going through. I told him about Mr. Virgo working in the Food & Beverage industry all of his career. He lit up and we began a long discussion comparing notes of who worked where and when. This is something I always found fascinating with Mr. Virgo. No matter where we were, he could find someone who knew someone and there was always common ground. It made me smile.

I told him our story. I told him about going out to buy the camper and how he died while we were looking. I told him about buying the little camper and taking it out in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado. I told him about selling my house and buying the big camper and getting rid of 95% of my personal belongings. I told him about being on the road in the camper and writing about it and how I came to know Janine. Then, I told him the happy ending of the story…running into Mr. FixIt and how we are just about ready to celebrate our 1st Wedding Anniversary.

A happy ending. It’s never “The End” though…is it. Mr. Virgo died. But it wasn’t the end. It was the end of many things…but not of him. Or of me. There is always more story to be written…even when you cannot believe you can survive another moment after such a painful loss. Being away, doing something different, learning new things, expanding my territory. All these things offer a lovely perspective of life. I can’t think how my life could be any more perfect than what it is. I am so incredibly grateful. Telling my story gives me this gift every single time.

❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
James 1:17 NIV

Full Moon...Friday the 13th

Fri, 13 Sep 2019 01:30:48 -0600

“Tonight is a full moon AND Friday the 13th! What could POSSIBLY go wrong?”

If you have ever worked in an emergency room, you know it is guaranteed to be crazy busy on the night of a full moon and any Friday the 13th. Add the two? Yikes! Let’s just say, I’m super happy I am going to go work an RV show today and not an ER!

Yesterday was insanely busy. I got up early and finished packing. Mr. FixIt had to work so I loaded up the truck by myself. Although I started early and it was only 73 degrees, within an hour I was sweating buckets and things became decidedly more difficult. I managed to get everything finished around 11:00 and headed to town. I had some errands to run before a doctor’s appointment at 2:45. The Doctor ran really late so it was 4:15 by the time I was finished.

As I walked around the back of my truck in the parking lot, I noticed the hitch wasn’t on my truck. Mr. FixIt usually does that for me because a hitch with all the gear to use weight distribution bars is really heavy. I had to drive all the way home and hook it up myself before I could head out of town. I was really tired by 10:00 and started looking for a hotel room. I finally found one around Hagerstown, MD and stopped for the night. There’s a long stretch through the mountains where the pickin’s are slim.

I love traveling by night. The traffic is lighter and the moon was amazing! By the time I got settled in my room, it was 11:30 so I was whupped. I don’t have to be at the RV Show till noon so I could sleep in this morning! Gotta be ready for a busy, busy couple of days!

❤️

“For it is written: “ ‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’ ””
Luke 4:10-11 NIV

There is Another

Mon, 09 Sep 2019 01:30:03 -0600

“There is another who stands with us in the fire….always.”

I cannot tell you how many times I have felt alone in my life. Totally alone. Totally forgotten. Maybe not totally worthless…but pretty darned close sometimes. When I went through my formal conversion to Judaism just before my second child was born, part of the process was to sit before the Bet Din…the Jewish Tribunal Court that determines your suitability. Did you learn all you needed to learn? Are you converting for your faith…or for your husband? How will you accomplish the very important aspect of the Jewish faith…being a contributing member of the synagogue?

These were the easy questions. I had already lived a Jewish life for 12 years. This conversion was merely a formality so that our child would be considered by other Jews to be Jewish once she was born. The difficult question came last.

“Do you renounce Jesus as your personal savior?”

I thought I would fly through these questions without giving them a second thought. But this question….this…betrayal to all I had learned as a child hit something deep within me I didn’t even realize was there. But what was I to do? I was pregnant out to here and my nice Jewish doctor-husband was sitting on the other side of the door, waiting for me.

“I have obligations to my family,” I thought to myself. “I have people depending on me to show up as a Jew…not the least of which is my unborn child.”

So, I said yes…and that’s where the trouble started. I felt God…I don’t know…step back, for lack of a better description. From that moment on…for the next ten years…I felt alone. Forsaken, as I had forsaken Jesus. Granted, I had not recognized him as the Son of God at that point. I had never invited Him into my life. I had never given over to Him and called Him Lord. I guess, in that moment, I realized He was still in the back of my mind. He was still there. That is, until I kicked Him to the curb in the office of the synagogue that cold and sunny January day.

I didn’t deserve Him. I had shunned Him. I felt there was no forgiveness for such an action and that was where I was left. Dying on the vine from the inside out. Ten years later, after an overdose nearly killed me, I started my long journey back to life and along the way…praise God…I was brought to my knees at the foot of the Cross and came home to Jesus in 2005. Nearly fifteen years ago.

What I’ve learned since then is this: I was never alone in the fire. God was always there with me, no matter how far I tried to push Him away. I spent that whole decade feeling alone and unworthy…far from God on my side of the fence. Yet He sat there patiently watching out for me, patiently waiting for me to cry out for him.

I think of myself as a parent…how sad I have been at times when my children’s focus has them far away from me and how joyful I feel when they call, or reach out to me for something even as mundane as a family recipe. This must be how God feels when we reach our arms out to Him to be held. Like any parent…He loves His children. Like any parent…He rejoices when His children love Him back.

❤️

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.”
Psalms 36:7 ESV

Let Things Go

Sun, 08 Sep 2019 01:30:33 -0600

“Letting things go for a little while gives your mind and heart a chance to breathe.”

I have a list as long as my arm to get accomplished in the next four days. On the upside, I don’t have a camper to clean and prep for a trip. On the downside, I still have laundry, errands, packing, planning, writing, and a couple of doctor’s appointments before I slip out of town on Thursday for the beginning of this amazing Girl Camper Trailer Tour.

So, with all this stuff on my list, what did I do yesterday? I let things go. I created a day just for me. I met ten of my dear friends from my high school class for coffee and conversation. We caught up with what’s been going on since the beginning of summer. We haven’t met since June before I left cross country. This is the first chance I’ve had to plan a coffee gathering since returning from Colorado. I needed to fit it in before I leave again this week.

We caught up with everyone’s health issues. Yes, we’re THOSE people now…surgeries, hospitalizations, injuries. We are “of a certain age” and things break down more often it seems. One of the gals was new to our gathering. She’s been liberated from a longstanding situation that didn’t allow her to socialize before now so there was a lot of catching up to do there. We talked about our vacations over the summer and travel plans for the fall. We shared photos of the grandkids…and GREAT grandkids! Ninety minutes flew by and someone called, “Picture time!” We needed to enlist a patron sitting in the cafe to come take our photo. A young woman doing homework. I smiled. “High school friends. Don’t ever lose touch!” She smiled back and took the perfect picture.

When it was time to leave, we each hugged everyone there. We’re of that age…we don’t know “when” and “if” anymore. So we hug and kiss a lot and give lots of “love you’s” and “take care’s”. I left feeling loved and supported and relieved those I care about were experiencing a pretty good week. As I was heading to the truck, one of our granddaughters texted to say she was in town and did I want to snuggle our great grandson. Well…of course! Silly question!

I went to the former Mrs. FixIt’s house and visited her and with not one, but BOTH great grandchildren for an hour or so and caught up with everyone, then headed off for errands. I met Mr. FixIt after his golf scramble and went to one of my favorite stores…Rural King. I’m looking for a cool barn coat but I’m not finding one. I’ll probably have to buy online.

So, there you go…my primer on how to let things go. Totally self serving and vitally important. Church today, then I can piddle around the house. It’ll get done. And, it’ll get done without me feeling like I’ll tear my hair out at any minute. That is a monumental win-win in my book.

❤️

“a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;”
Ecclesiastes 3:5 ESV

Stitched with Love

Fri, 06 Sep 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“My friend’s comfort quilt is on its way. She’s had her first dose of chemo.”

My dear friend’s quilt is on its way out west. As I sat and hand stitched the binding, I listened to praise music for a bit, then I switched over to my daily devotional. My Bible app on my phone has a function where someone reads the Bible to you. That is especially handy for my Bible plan that I’m working on. It’s planned so that you read the entire Bible in a year. I’ve only read the Bible completely once. I read it from cover to cover…from Genesis to Revelations. That’s tough. You get stuck in all those begats and Kings and it’s difficult to keep from going cross eyed.

This plan reads a couple of chapters from the Old Testament and the New Testament. Then it reads some from Psalms and finishes with Proverbs. Every day. Once I got two weeks behind and swore I’d never do that again. Then over the weekend, I hit the two week behind mark again. Currently I’m only behind nine days. I have some catching up to do. Listening over the headphones accomplished two things…it helped me catch up a bit and it let me stitch the Word into my work. Then I prayed over the quilt and hugged it close and sent it off to my friend, hoping she feels the love and hugs and prayers put into each stitch.

I’m counting down the days for my trip now. We’ve all learned from experience just how fast a week can go by. It will be no time and I’ll be off to the Hershey RV Show. I’ll meet Janine there and we’ll work the show for two days. Then we’ll be off to Huntington, WV.

I’ve been researching stays for my trip and all the writing that is going to be involved with it. Lots of driving. Lots of photo editing. Plus another project that’s coming up very soon. PLUS my own writing here. That’s a ton of work. What I will have to do is share my trip writing here on some of the days. It will be extremely difficult (I think) to write the daily essays you and I have become accustomed to. Then again, writing on this blog has become my bedtime ritual and I may not be able to sleep until I write something here.

At any rate, you and I are about to embark on a VERY exciting journey filled with fun experiences and beautiful scenery. And sometimes we’ll still talk about grief. Because, you know…it’s what we do here. Grief and joy can exist at the same time.

❤️

“a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;”
Ecclesiastes 3:7 ESV

Soft Hands

Thu, 05 Sep 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“Hold people’s hearts softly…with open hands.”

I’ve learned to have soft hands in my relationships. I’m not talking about getting a mani or using the latest lotions and potions. I’m talking about holding my relationships softly. I’ve learned a lot about relationships over my life. I’ve certainly had enough of them. I used to be embarrassed to say Mr. FixIt is my fourth marriage. I mean, would it have been nice to celebrate my 50th Anniversary with the man I married in 1973? Well…if it WOULD have been nice, I’d still be married to him now, wouldn’t I? Same goes for the one I married in 1979.

When I married Mr. Virgo in 2007, I truly believed it was my last marriage and we would grow old together. Then 2013 happened, and that dream was shattered by his untimely death at the age of 62. I was only 59, but I swore I would never, ever get married again. “No one could ever measure up.” “My heart could never take that again.” “I’ve already used up three women’s quotas…I’m done.”

I had every reason in the book to never do this again…then Mr. FixIt came along and God granted me another chance at happiness. I’ve been able to use a lot of the lessons I learned in my first three marriages and use them in my new marriage…my LAST marriage.

I knew nothing when I married my first husband…as is true with most people, I suppose. We were so very young…I was only 19, he was 20. We argued…a lot. We had a baby straight away and we were separated before she was two. I learned a lot about what I didn’t want in that marriage.

Hubby #2 was my longest marriage…20 years. And the divorce was extremely painful. When I look back on that marriage, I realize I held onto my husband with tight fists. I was jealous of his coworkers. The nurses and medical staff, the female doctors…well, anyone really. I spent my entire relationship wondering when he would leave me for some talented, intelligent, good looking, young thing. I held on so tightly neither one of us could breathe and the relationship became toxic.

By the time Mr. Virgo came along, I was looking for what I DID want in a partner…not the other way around. I held him softly, but I held myself in an ironclad fist. My second marriage did not end by my choice, so I told myself I had to be the very best version of myself…the perfect wife…with Mr. Virgo or he might leave me, too. The marriage was much, much happier…don’t get me wrong. But it was a lot of work to try to be perfect all the time. In all honesty, I have no idea what might have come of that relationship had he not passed away. I can idealize it and say it was perfect, but no relationship is absolutely perfect. Really, really great is a glorious gift.

By the time Mr. FixIt came along, I was tired of being something…someONE…I was not. I knew if I ever had the opportunity to have another serious relationship and be married again, I was going to be a “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” kinda gal. Which works out really great because Mr. FixIt is a “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” kinda guy. I love our relationship because we aren’t guarded around each other. We’re easy with each other. We hold each other’s hearts, but with soft, open hands.

You see, what I finally learned…and trust me, I’m a slow learner…what I finally learned was this: If you hold your love’s heart in the soft, open palm of your hand and he flies away…he was not yours to begin with. And, without the tight grip of jealousy and fear of abandonment, the relationship can breathe and grow.

I never once questioned Mr. Virgo’s commitment to me, yet I still held a piece of my heart tightly in my clenched fists for fear he’d leave like the last one and break my heart. It never occurred to me it would be his death that would crush me. I don’t question Mr. FixIt’s commitment either, and I haven’t held anything back. It’s liberating. Can I get crushed again. Yes, of course. But death has taught me I can survive anything so I don’t live in fear anymore. I have soft hands. And that is a much more graceful way to live.

❤️

“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.”
Philippians 4:5 NIV

Random Acts of Kindness...Senseless Acts of Beauty

Tue, 03 Sep 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“My grandma always said you can catch a lot more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.”

About thirty years ago, a woman named Anne Herbert wrote something on a placemat in a restaurant. “Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.” Since then, countless posters, books, t-shirts, and movies have incorporated this idea of doing something for others…some kindness…without expecting anything in return. Things like paying for the person behind you in the drive through at the local coffee shop. Or, leaving a basket of flowers on someone’s doorstep. Or, something I like to do every once in a while….put a sticky note on a $5 bill with a note like “God loves you!”…then tuck it in a book at the library or a book store.

Practicing random acts of kindness didn’t start with Ms. Herbert, of course. The original practitioner was Jesus, of course…and we would do well to strive to emulate Him. Being a good person seems to be rapidly going out of style. My dad wasn’t what you would call a profound thinker, but he said one thing that always stuck with me. “Computers will be the downfall of mankind.” I think I rolled my eyes when he said that. But maybe he wasn’t so far off.

I don’t think it’s computers, per se, that will be the downfall of man. I think it’s how computers are used. Social media has created a monster. It’s given people a voice who may never have had one. It’s placed a filter between people….it’s created an US against THEM atmosphere. And, it has taken away the social filter of eye contact, allowing whatever vitriol that comes to mind to flow through the keyboard without repercussion. Cyber bullying isn’t limited to 8th grade girls and misunderstood emo boys.

I will have to say…thankfully there has been very little in the way of nastiness on this page. I won’t tolerate it and the few times it’s happened, the instigator has been blocked and the offending message deleted. That isn’t the case everywhere. It’s hard to judge the “tone” of a message when it’s written. All it takes is one “rude” comment to unleash a flood of bullying back and forth…and that’s with grown adults!

It’s a new month. School is back in session. I don’t want to wait for Christmas to have the good feels. Let’s go out today and do kind things for people. If it’s not new to you, great! Keep up the good work! If it’s been a while and you’d like to rectify that situation, go out there and do something nice for someone today. And if someone does something nice for you, pay it forward.

We attract to us what we dish out. If we are negative and uncaring, we just get more of the same. If we are kind and loving, there is a better chance of attracting that same kindness and love. If it doesn’t come right away…keep trying. It never hurts to spread good vibes around the world.

❤️

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

The Tug of War

Mon, 02 Sep 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Angel on one hand, devil on the other…trying to have their way with me.”

Mr. FixIt and I haven’t had a lot of time together this summer. I was gone a lot and, even though he joined me for three weeks in Colorado, we both have been working nonstop at this and that since we got home the first week of August. Here it is September already and I’m already preparing to leave again.

We miss being together and we both know the importance of devoting time to our relationship. It’s been really nice this weekend because we took three days off for some much needed R&R. When I woke up yesterday, I was tired. My allergies have been giving me fits creating fluid in my ears which sometimes makes me dizzy. I laid in bed for twenty minutes telling myself it was perfectly fine to stay home…we didn’t have to go to church. I mean…it’s just this once, right? We go almost every Sunday when we are home. That deserves a day off to sleep in. I just didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like going.

As I let these thoughts run through my mind, I was almost convinced to turn over and go back to sleep when a stern “voice” shook me from my reverie.

“When you don’t FEEL like going is exactly when you NEED to go!”

I quite literally jumped out of bed.

Ohhhhh….my thinker was what was “sick”. Church is the place it gets healed.

When I’m thinking I don’t need to go to church is exactly when I need it the most. And yesterday, I am not kidding…church felt like plugging in my jet pack. I got fed the energy and grace and love and lessons I needed and I left there convicted. Convinced the place to feel better is to draw closer to Jesus, not turn over and go back to sleep.

It’s not enough to go every Sunday and get plugged in, hoping the charge lasts till the following Sunday. That obviously didn’t work last week because I easily could have opted out. My tug of war pitted the proverbial angel on one hand and devil on the other…each trying to pull me to their side. I know I can’t ever go wrong when I choose Jesus.

The key is to draw closer…constantly. The Bible says we are to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). The way to do that is to turn whatever you are doing into worship. Whether you are singing in the choir or scrubbing toilets, it can be done with a tone of worship and praise. And when we pray, we are to devote ourselves “to prayer, keeping alert in it with an attitude of thanksgiving” (Colossians 4:2)

Just that boost, and the conviction to keep close, has given me rest and regeneration. I feel so much better and not nearly so overwhelmed by all I need to accomplish in the next two weeks. I came to the farm after church…to my place of meditation…to the home of my heart…and enjoyed a quiet evening while Mr. FixIt bowled. Today, I’ll go back home and get some work done. Perhaps I’ll pressure wash the deck!

❤️

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2 NIV

Dining Alone

Sun, 01 Sep 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“Dining alone can be an intimidating experience when you are widowed.”

I saw her walk into the restaurant with the rest of us “early birds”. The waitress came up to her table and handed her a menu.

“Just one?”

I’m sure I’m the only one in the restaurant that saw the shadow of pain skitter across her face.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

sigh

I wanted to smack the perky waitress but decided at some point in the meal, this would become a teaching moment.

When we walked in, there were friends sitting in a booth near the front of the restaurant. They called to us to join them. The woman dining alone sat nearby. Our friends lost their son a couple of years ago. Eventually, our conversation included him…mentioning him by name, telling a funny story or two, comforting her and telling her at two years, it’s still ok to cry. It’s always ok to cry.

The waitress came back to give us our check and I chose that moment to speak to the woman dining alone. We made direct eye contact.

“I remember the first time I went to a restaurant alone after my husband died.”

She looked at me steadily. I recognized the sadness in her eyes. I sat there…many times.

“It doesn’t really help to be asked…’Oh…you’re alone?’ The first time I went to our favorite restaurant, I opened my iPad and pulled up my favorite picture of my husband and propped him up on the table so I didn’t feel so alone.”

“Yes…it’s really hard. Especially when someone comes up to you after a year and a half and asks ‘Where’s Paul?’”

The waitress whirled around. It just dawned on her what had happened. She opened her mouth to say something and I quickly said, “It’s not your fault. You aren’t clairvoyant so you had no way of knowing.” But now she’ll be more aware the next time someone comes in unaccompanied.

As we were leaving, I glanced over at the woman dining alone and gave her a long, knowing look and a gentle smile. She smiled back and waved.

God moments. He gives us the people we need to help…and to help us.

❤️

“He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing.”
Deuteronomy 10:18 NIV

GRIEF + TIME = grief

Thu, 29 Aug 2019 01:30:48 -0600

“Grief is a process that varies from person to person…but there are some general similarities.”

The other day I read a Tweet that stopped me in my tracks. A woman said she had cut her two best friends completely out of her life because in the entire year after her niece died, neither one of them bothered to check in with her. Her comment came after someone checked in…a full two years after her tragic loss. He texted her with a very simple message…

“I’m just checking in to see how you are coping after the death of your niece.”

Simple. To the point. And, so welcomed it brought her to tears.

It prompted me to reflect. When was the last time I checked in with my friends who have lost loved ones? I get so wrapped up in my “work”, my “ministry”, with the bereaved, I forget to reach out and connect myself sometimes.

Last night I spent a good two hours writing quick texts to several of my peeps who had lost someone significant in the last couple of years. I heard back from them and the response was universal…”You have no idea what it means to have someone remember to ask how I’m doing!” “Thank you SO much for checking in…it means so much to me!” “My own kids don’t even want to listen!”

It’s true…once a “reasonable amount of time” passes, people move on with their lives. And, unless they have been bereaved, they may not understand that you haven’t. I remember how I felt abandoned. Like no one cared anymore. That isn’t true, of course. They just don’t have a point of reference for the depth of your pain and…it would scare the crap out of them if they believed that depth of pain could possible last more than a few months.

There is no way to compare your own experience with that of another. Your grief is different than my grief. And it doesn’t matter how your person died…your grief is the worst grief ever because it is your own. But truly, I’m here to tell you, there is some grief that I cannot begin to imagine. Like the mother whose son was murdered by terrorists and left to die on the roadside. Or the mother whose daughter was found dead three days after a heroin overdose. Or the wife who returned from the grocery store to find her husband dead on the back porch from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

There are so many stories in the work that I do. It breaks my heart into little pieces. And, it makes me think, “If he had to die, at least it wasn’t like that!” I find myself feeling grateful it was “only a heart attack.” I didn’t have to watch him slowly fade away from the ravages of cancer.

As I talked to my friend whose son was killed a little over a year ago, I thought back over the years since Mr. Virgo died. And, while there isn’t some neat and tidy delineation from year to year, there is some general sense of first, second, third, etc.

The first year is such a fog. You are numb. You are just trying to get the next thing done, the next paper filed, the next account closed. Closet? Check. Accounts? Check. Cellphone? Check. The first year becomes a blur…a cross between busy and madness.

The second year can be surprisingly rough…like you are standing in high tide during a storm surge. Your footing shifts like the sand beneath you in the ocean. Each wave hitting you blindly, knocking you beneath the surface. And…you can’t swim. Not even close.

At some point along the way…you hear it. A little snippet of music. A little bubble of laughter. A little glimmer of color peeking through a stormy sky. And that’s when the tides begin to shift a little. The waves not quite so hard. Or…maybe we’ve become better swimmers.

For me, the third year gave me a little breathing room. It was a period of exploration and self-discovery. A time of reaching out and stretching beyond my past and stepping a bit more boldly into the future.

The fourth, and beyond, found me building a boat to carry me over the waves till the next storm comes.

I listened intently to my friend sharing her grief. I asked questions. I resisted the urge to share my experiences except to say the occasional “Yes! I get that…I felt that, too!” It was amazingly comforting to me when I found others shared some of the same things I was experiencing. At some point in our conversation, she asked…

”How is your life?”

“I feel bad sharing how wonderful my life is when yours sucks so terribly,” I said.

“No…don’t ever feel bad about that! Your story gives me hope!”

And that…in a nutshell…is what keeps me going. It keeps me telling stories…even when you hurt…even when I hurt. Because life keeps going on around us whether our sense of time has stopped or whether death has taken the joy from our hearts. I write about Jesus and faith. I write about grief. I write about pain. I write about love and joy and rocking babies. I write about travel, and camping, and becoming strong. I write about farms and mowing and fried green tomatoes. I write about life and all it’s little bits…both good and bad.

But mostly…I write about hope.

❤️

“You are my refuge and my shield; your word is my source of hope.”
Psalms 119:114 NLT

Do You Remember When.....?

Tue, 20 Aug 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Clockwise from Top Right: Phone Booth, Fireweed, Joe Pye Weed, Naked Ladies (Belladona Lily)

Mr. FixIt took the day off yesterday. I had to run a couple of errands, but I was back home by noon. The temperature was already well into the 90’s by then and I actually had the thought…”Ok, I’m done. I’m ready for FALL!” Cool, crisp days with a warm sweater, sipping a mug of cider while gazing at the changing of the leaves suddenly sounds very appealing to me. And this from a woman who hates fall because winter is right behind it. Not this year…I’m ready for this sweltering heat wave to break.

We never did put the window air conditioner in the family room this summer. Mostly because we were gone a lot. And also, it didn’t get all that hot till we were ready to leave on our big trip out west. At this point, I told Mr. FixIt we should just skip that particular ordeal this year altogether. It is quite a chore getting that huge air conditioner into the window and before we know it, we won’t need it anyway. That being said, we were both tired of the heat by 5:00 so he asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with him.

We love going for drives in the countryside. West Virginia has the best roads for drives and there’s always something interesting around the next bend. We kept remarking how overgrown everything is from all the rain this summer. Old abandoned houses are all but swallowed up by vines that threaten to take them by force into the woods. The Joe Pye Weed covers the roadsides with its smoky pink blossoms. Naked Ladies (Belladona Lilies) poke their heads up in the corners of rural lawns. Dark pink Fireweed mingles with Goldenrod, Queen Anne’s Lace, and Black-eyed Susans. They all look like weeds, but they are West Virginia’s cacophony of late summer wildflowers.

We had no idea where we would end up. We drove past the greenhouses in Palestine and saw they are filled with baskets of mums that will bloom in October. We drove past the place where they used to produce railroad ties. Mr. FixIt said the trucks traveled by night because their loads were always way over the weight limit. He said you could tell it was the railroad ties because the heavy night air smelled of creosote long after they’d passed.

We finally pulled into Spencer, West Virginia…an old town built on the backs of the oil, gas, and timber industries. There are some beautiful old houses there. At one time, the State Psychiatric Hospital was located there and if you weren’t good growing up, “you’ll get hauled off to Spencer” was fair warning to shape up. Now it’s just like any other tired, old town in the Mountain State…bored adolescent boys yelling from passing cars, bored adolescent girls giggling in the booth at Wendy’s over a series of texts and photos they were sharing. An old man climbed into a car with barely enough room for him to sit in the driver’s seat. The rest of the car was filled wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling with trash. Literal trash. He opened the door to the back seat and carefully placed his half-full cup of soda on top of the pile, closed the door, and got in to drive off to who knows where.

The Wendy’s was impeccably clean inside so we stopped for a bite to eat before we drove on to Ripley, then past Ravenswood to Mineral Wells and on home. Mr. Fixit said it would be dark by the time we got home and he was right. I love these kind of evenings with him…away from the television, going for a drive, holding hands and laughing and telling stories. It occurred to me, one of the very best things about our relationship is…even though we’ve only been together since late 2016, we have so many memories in common. We were best friends in high school. While he lived all but a few years of his life within a 20 mile radius of where we were born, I lived two years in England and forty years in Colorado. But, I still came home for a visit every year so I had my finger on the pulse of my hometown. We lived our lives in a parallel trajectory for sixty-some years before our paths crossed for good. We have much of the same history and memories.

As the sun was beginning to make it’s last glorious descent over the beautiful Ohio River, I saw this phone booth standing alone near the Wendy’s parking lot. I turned to Mr FixIt and smiled.

“Do you remember when…..?”

❤️

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
Luke 2:19 NIV

Bowling Season Has Begun

Mon, 19 Aug 2019 01:30:06 -0600

“Pink roses and strawberries…and bowling season. Somebody loves me!”

Mr. FixIt is an avid bowler. He’s been on two bowling leagues for the last thirty-five years and he enjoys it immensely. He has friends there. He has ample opportunity to talk. It’s his guy time. And, I enjoy having a couple of evenings a week to do whatever I want to do as well. Honestly, I fell asleep late in the afternoon and didn’t hear him leave. When I woke up, I caught up with my Sunday evening phone calls and chats so it was a relaxing evening.

When he arrived home, he went into the kitchen to fix something to eat and we were trying to carry on a conversation while I was in the family room. He called out, “You know…I could hear you better if you were in here with me.” Of course! Sometimes we get so wrapped up in what we’re doing, we forget the basic manners and niceties we should offer those we love most.

I walked into the kitchen and there on the counter was a dozen pink roses and two cartons of fresh strawberries! I am always thunderstruck when he surprises me with these lovely unexpected gifts of love.

I looked at him and smiled. “What’s this?”

“It’s been a little while since I brought you flowers. It was time.” He smiled back.

What goodness this is…this life that is sweeter than any red strawberry…softer than any pink rosebud. This is a blessing. This is God’s gift to me. This man who lifts me up and celebrates who I am. Who cheers me on and encourages me to explore and be everything I can be. This man who holds my hand in church and prays alongside me. Who holds me and comforts me when I am sick or sad. I only pray I give him this same love back every day of my life.

There was so much sadness in my life after Mr. Virgo died. I swore I would never fall in love…never remarry…because the thought of going through that again was too much to bear. Then color came back into my life. And I could hear music and I could breathe and somehow I knew I could love again. I don’t know how long we have together…but it’s bowling season and I have strawberries and pink roses and my life is good.

❤️

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4 NIV

“Let The Sun Shine...”

Sun, 18 Aug 2019 01:30:25 -0600

“The Ubiquitous Photo from Woodstock”

Fifty years ago this weekend, a gazillion people descended on Mr. Yasgur’s New York farm just five hundred miles from where I grew up. What started out as a ticketed music event soon devolved into chaos as tens of thousands of unticketed hippies made their way into the tiny village of Bethel. The festival had already suffered a last minute change of venue and was seriously short on cash, but there came a point where Woodstock took on a life of its own.

Fifty years have passed. I didn’t go, of course. I was only sixteen and actually didn’t even hear about it till it was on the news. Not that I would have done something so brazen as to defy my parents because I know they never would have allowed me to go. I never even skipped a class in school, let alone run off to a hippy concert five hundred miles away. Still, I marveled at the mass of humanity. And, I liked the music.

It was such a crazy summer…the Summer of ‘69. The Summer of Love. That’s what we called it. But the older generations thought we young people were out of our minds. Sex, drugs, and Rock & Roll. And now look where we are. I saw a meme today. A grandpa was saying he fought in WWII and built his house with his own two hands. His great grandson said, “Sometimes I put a meme on Facebook and it gets a lot of likes.” That is so sad…and unfortunately, all too true.

We didn’t have the internet in 1969. We didn’t have the news on 24/7/365. We didn’t have violent video games. We didn’t have as many latch key kids and no iPad kids or YouTube kids. Dr. Spock was just beginning to tell us how to raise our kids and to never swat their butts or we would bruise their fragile self-esteems. I’ll tell you what, if I sassed back to my parents, they bruised my “self-esteem” with whatever was handy. I did the same with my kids. Nowadays, you can have your kids taken away for that. And they know it.

I remember Daughter #1 saying she was going to call Child Protective Services because I wouldn’t let her go to a party. I smiled and recited the number to her. Then I took her car keys. It’s hard to parent now. Having the grandkids over this week with their own little ones made me compare how easy I had it compared to what they are facing. And I didn’t have it all that easy.

After my first divorce, I was a single mom in Denver. My family lived in West Virginia. I didn’t have anyone I could leave the baby with while I went to work. I had to find child care…and pray they wouldn’t hurt my daughter. I lived in HUD housing, on food stamps and WIC. I drove a beat up old Pontiac that I paid some Iranians $200 for. The hood and the trunk were wired closed with coat hangers. All four sides were dented in. I prayed every day I could get to work so I could take care of us. I didn’t have a smart phone and five sets of grandparents to step in when I was overwhelmed.

God knows, I made plenty of mistakes in those early years. It’s a wonder we made it through. The music of 1969 was five years old before my daughter was born. I look back now in awe. I knew I’d be “old” someday. I just thought it would take longer. Oh, sixty-six isn’t OLD, exactly. I sure feel the difference, just in the last couple of years. Mr. FixIt and I work very hard and it’s taking it’s toll. I hurt in places that never hurt before. It takes me a bit to get moving. But, like my husband says…you’ve got to keep moving or you’ll stop.

Fifty years since Woodstock…and there’s a real part of me that genuinely feels a little past my prime. However, I’m about to take a brand new camper wherever I want for five months and write about it! Isn’t that just about the coolest thing? I wouldn’t take who I was in 1969 back for anything!

“Let the sun shine…let the sun shine in…the sun…shine in!”

❤️

“I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,”
2 Peter 1:13 NIV

A Vivid Imagination

Tue, 13 Aug 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“The moment I saw this, I knew it was the answer to my dream!”

I was probably about ten years old when I got my first (and only) childhood bike for Christmas. I remember lusting after the sleek English racers I saw some of the bigger kids riding. Oooooo, the idea of all those gears and the trendy dropped handlebars and the hand brakes…I could just picture myself tooling around the world, peddling that bike, looking ever so sporty and sophisticated. I had a vivid imagination!

Christmas morning came. I jumped up out of bed in my worn and tattered flannel jammies, and ran to the living room. There, leaning on its kickstand in the middle of the living room, was a brand new shiny blue bicycle! It wasn’t an English racer. It didn’t have any bells and whistles. It was a heavy, single speed monstrosity from Sears with the label “J. C. Higgins”. It was a sturdy, reliable bike and it didn’t take me long to figure out Mom couldn’t afford that trendy bicycle. I was darned lucky to have this one and not some hand-me-down from one of my cousins.

I used to ride that bike all over the neighborhood. The following summer was the first time Mom let us stay home unsupervised. I played outside from first thing in the morning till I needed to be in to start supper before my folks got home from work. I remember having this intense fantasy of riding my bicycle to Canada. I envisioned panniers on the back…before I even knew what panniers were. I pictured what I would pack in there. I had read The Boxcar Children a dozen times so I knew just what I would need to survive on my own.

In my ten-year-old brain, I had it all figured out. I would need money to survive so I would need to either get a job or sell something. The Christmas Wishbook from Sears arrived that fall and I ran to my room with it to figure out how I was going to raise funds for this epic adventure. And there it was! A snow-cone maker!!! My friends and I LOVED snow-cones! I figured if I had one of these babies, I could set up a stand out in front of the house and blow all those Lemonade Stands out of the water. I mean…who could resist a great snow-cone on a hot summer day, right???

I look back at my youthful exuberance and my little girl naïveté and smile. I was sure I would sell a gazillion snow-cones from this cute little plastic gizmo. Just as sure as I would ride my bike to Canada. Well, I never rode my bike to Canada. I didn’t get the snow-cone maker. But I’ve been on lots of adventures. And, I’ve done things I never thought I could do. And now…I’m going to get to have another GRAND adventure and they’re handing me the camper to do it in!

Believe me…I know how blessed I am to get this opportunity. Between now and the middle of September when I pick it up, I need to plan out an epic road trip. I’m thinking it would be really awesome to combine this with several Meet & Greets and get a chance to meet you wonderful “Ranchers” along the way! I’m just in the formulating stage but I’m thinking this could turn out to be….

Ginny McKinney’s R-Pod-196 Adventure!

Stay tuned to Marshmallow Ranch for details as plans fall into place!!!

❤️

“For nothing will be impossible with God."”
Luke 1:37 ESV

There’s an Adventure Coming...

Mon, 12 Aug 2019 01:30:05 -0600

“Where will my next adventure take me???”

I’ve been hinting at an adventure coming up for me this fall and now I can tell you a little more about it. The manufacturer of the R-Pod has just come out with a totally new design…the Model 196. This is the first redesign Forest River has done in the ten years since the R-Pod was first released. And, Forest River has very generously donated the very first Model 196 R-Pod off the line to the Girl Campers for our annual trailer raffle!!! Isn’t that exciting???

My good friend, Janine Pettit, will receive the camper in the next couple of weeks. She will be putting a Girl Camper spin on it with some beautiful interior decor. Then, the camper goes to the Hershey RV Show. Janine and I will be at the show on September 14th for a meet and greet and to show off our Girl Camper version of the new R-Pod. After that, we head to Setzer’s RV in Huntington, WV for the big reveal!

At that point, I take over and get to pull this camper wherever I want till the end of January…which of course means I’ll just HAVE to go where it’s warm over the winter! (And, yes…Mr. FixIt gets to come along…for at least part of the trip!) Stay tuned for lots of fun and excitement in the coming months! In the meantime, here is a sneak peek at the “before” in a video Janine made at the Forest River factory. This is a gorgeous camper and I can hardly wait to get her out there on the open road!!!

https://www.facebook.com/janine.pettit.5/videos/10157250788233444?s=1219785470&sfns=mo

❤️

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.”
Psalm 91:11-12 NIV

A Farm Girl at Heart...sans Shoes

Sun, 11 Aug 2019 01:30:44 -0600

‘Sitting on the tailgate of my truck…drinking coffee and soaking up summer!”

I hate wearing shoes. I know it’s so stereotypically West Virginian, but I do not wear shoes unless I absolutely have to. Mr. FixIt emptied the truck yesterday morning so I went out with my mug of coffee and sat on the tailgate, contemplating my bare feet and the beautiful sounds of an August day in the country.

It wasn’t long after I finished my morning brew when I heard Mr. FixIt start up the push mower and I knew it was time to get to work. I ran to town to fill up the gas cans. Once I got back home, I hooked up my headphones and hopped on the riding mower. It could have waited till Monday, growth-wise. But the next two days are supposed to be 95 degrees and rainy. So, you know what they say...you gotta make hay when the sun shines!

I love watching the seasons changing here in my home state. Some of the trees already have some yellowing leaves on them. And you can tell a difference in the texture of the grass at this time of year. It’s tougher and harder to weed eat. I left home the 27th of June. There was a whole lot of growth between then and now and there are a lot of branches hanging over the edge of the fields. I’m going to have to get out there with the loppers again.

As soon as I got home the other night, I could just feel the stress leave my shoulders and neck. I can sit outside and listen to the night sounds instead of the constant hum of traffic in the background. As I sat basking in the velvet night air, I thought over all the places we saw over the last several weeks. It was such a wonderful vacation. And, as always, it’s both good to be home and sad that it’s over.

❤️

“The priest answered them, “Go in peace. Your journey has the Lord’s approval.””
Judges 18:6 NIV

The DMV & Me

Fri, 09 Aug 2019 01:30:34 -0600

“Take my advice…bring chocolate next time you go to the DMV!”

How many vacations have you ridden along with me…vicariously? If you’ve been around very long, you’ll know I don’t do very well with “re-entry”. I’ve never just come home and smoothly transition into laundry and cooking and doing the everyday mundane things. And, it seems the older I get, the more difficult it is to come down off the high of a really good trip. And this one was a REALLY good one.

There were a few little bobbles along the way. The whole camper fiasco was a pain in the caboose but I turned it into a teaching moment. Then I lost my driver’s license. I know I had it at the Quick Care when I had the stress hives. But they swear it wasn’t left there. I called the pharmacy to see if maybe I left it there but they said it wasn’t there either. The DMV told me to print off a copy of my driving record to at least prove to a police officer that I have a valid license and I’m trying to fix it. Our whole camping vacation itinerary had to be changed, but that all turned out to be fine.

The first thing that had to be done yesterday was go to the DMV. Well…the FIRST thing I did was go pick up the mail to see if anyone had found it and mailed me my license. Nope. Then I went to the county building and got a copy of my birth certificate and marriage license in case I needed it at the DMV. I had my Social Security card and a vehicle registration with me. I have the Federal ID on my Driver’s License. I had to show a gazillion kinds of ID to get that. I thought SURELY I wouldn’t need a gazillion MORE kinds of ID to let them know I’m the same person with all the OTHER kinds of ID. HA! I was SO wrong!

I stood in the little pre-line line to let the clerk know what I needed. She looked at what I had. Nope. Not good enough. I needed a bill with my name and address on it. Ok, I had my health insurance bill. I handed that to her. Nope. They can’t accept health insurance. I had my taxes. Nope. Can’t accept federal taxes. OK, I said…what do you need? She underlined all the acceptable forms of identification. I went out to the truck and brought back a second registration for a different vehicle. Nope. Can’t come from the same source. Grrrrr.

So, I drove all the way across town and went to my car insurance agent’s office. I changed my address on my insurance and had them print out an insurance card for me. I drove back across town and stood in the pre-line again. Ok…we’re making progress. I got a number! I sat. And sat. And sat. Finally, my number was called and I ran up to the window with a huge smile.

“Identification, please.”

“Here you go! A registration and my car insurance…both with my name and address!” I smiled. They aren’t going to beat me this time!

The clerk looked over my papers and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t accept this. The address on the insurance card doesn’t match the one on the car registration.”

“What?!?!?!”

She quietly starts tapping on the keyboard and read, taps and reads, taps and reads.

“What is your husband’s name?”

I told her.

“And what is his birthdate?”

I told her.

“And you got your marriage license in this county?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Hmmmmm…I can’t find him.”

Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.

They’ve added a large copy of the law, highlighted, that says what the punishment is for disruptive behavior in the DMV. It’s pasted everywhere.

I looked over at the different styles of license plates you can order. And there…on number six…was a bluebird. I could almost hear Mr. Virgo say “Go easy, baby doll.” I thought of Mr. FixIt and how nothing seems to ruffle his feathers. And my shoulders relaxed.

“This must be a difficult job sometimes,” I said to the clerk.

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” She smiled as she continued to type and read.

Finally, I picked up the insurance card. The bottom half was kind of faded where the cartridge was running out of toner. Sure enough, under “Name and address of owner”, there was a typo in the name of the street. But, above that, under “Name and address of insured”, the address was correct. And clearly darker!

“Oh, look! It DOES have the name spelled right on this line! See? The other one is just so light from the printer, it’s hard to read. See the dark one here???”

It worked! My diversionary tactic to take the focus off the wrong one and place it on the right one clearly saved the day!

“Oh, my gosh! It must be my glasses! That IS right!” She took my money and quickly handed my number back to me. “You only have one person in front of you so it should take long now!” She smiled sweetly at me.

Right.

I was there another hour before they took my picture for my new license. And now I have to look at that tired, sweaty, grumpy picture for the next however many years. Or until I lose THIS license. Whichever comes first.

The bottom line is this…these people are just doing their jobs. They don’t make up the rules. They aren’t there to make your life miserable. They just want to earn a buck and go home and put their feet up. So, next time you have to go to the dreaded DMV, bring a smile. Some chocolate for the nice person behind the counter couldn’t hurt either. Maybe I would have gotten out of there quicker if I’d brought a little Hershey’s with me!

❤️

“Now swear to me here before God that you will not deal falsely with me or my children or my descendants. Show to me and the country where you now reside as a foreigner the same kindness I have shown to you.””
Genesis 21:23 NIV

No Worse for the Wear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

Abundance

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

“Heading into the Weminuche Wilderness”

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

One of These Things is Not Like the Other...a BABY!

Sun, 28 Jul 2019 01:30:28 -0600

“Clockwise, top left: Hollyhocks, Toes along the San Juan River, The view from Independence Pass, and….Baby Boo!!!!!”

It was a beautiful day for a baby! We had a leisurely breakfast and headed through Aspen and up Independence Pass. Mr. Fixit ooooohed and aaaaahed all the way. He’s never seen the likes of Colorado’s beauty. We stopped at the top of the pass and I was going to walk out to the windy point to take pictures but I could hardly catch my breath at 12,000+ feet elevation so I elected to stay in the car taking slow, deep breaths. I was glad to get down lower.

We stopped here and there. When I saw the sign for the turnoff to St. Elmo, I hung a right and went back in time to the 1800’s. It has probably been 40 years since I was there. We looked around at the old buildings and antiques. We sat on a bench and ate ice cream. And we finally climbed back in the truck and headed further south.

Along about Saguache…the phone rang and all I could hear was a tiny baby boy crying. “Wait….OMGosh!!! Is that a baby????? He’s here already????” Yes! Our tiny little Boo made his debut at around 5:30 eastern time weighing in at 6lbs13oz! And, of course….he’s perfect!!!

So, the mountains and the flowers, the river and the relaxing beside it….all pale in comparison to being a great grandma…again! What more could I tell you about today??? Thank you God, for protecting Mommy & Daddy and Nana’s little Boo!

❤️

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.”
John 16:21 NIV

A Glimpse of Heaven

Thu, 25 Jul 2019 01:30:08 -0600

“A Glimpse of Heaven in the Colorado Night Sky”

I knew this would happen. I blinked and a month flew by. I left on this journey exactly four weeks ago. Time is such a weird thing after loss. On the one hand…it flies. On the other…it stands still. I got some quality time with my Colorado family. Mr. FixIt has been here almost two weeks already. The package I’ve been expecting for my brother arrived yesterday so now we can pack up and go off on a little adventure on our own before the wedding.

Grandma L. is still hanging in there. She is such a strong woman. She rallies and fades, rallies and fades. They moved her from her apartment at assisted living to a skilled nursing facility on Monday. She had a dream on Tuesday night. At least, she thinks it was a dream. She was lying in bed and her legs felt like stone. But then, she was standing up…strong and vital. She looked around it was so glorious. She saw a crevice and knew she was supposed to jump over it. She knew she COULD. She didn’t see Grandpa right off, but she knew she could find him easily. Instead, she decided to come back and tell us all how absolutely peaceful and grand it is. I love that she could see it all so clearly and she isn’t afraid.

I know she might pass away while we are gone, but I didn’t want to wear her out by adding to the number of visitors going to see her. There are other closer relatives who need to spend time with her. I was able to hug on her last Saturday at her birthday party and she absolutely knows how I feel about her. Her absence will leave a gaping hole for quite some time in the lives of those who knew and loved her.

We all went out for supper last night after they moved everything out of Grandma’s apartment at the assisted living place. There were twelve of us. As I walked back to the table with my food, I paused for a moment and gazed over this beautiful family my daughter was so fortunate to marry into. Another part of my bonus family. We are so blessed…with kids and their kids and us grandparents. We are becoming the matriarchs. I thought it would take longer.

Mr. FixIt and I will head out today for a week of touring the state. We were supposed to do this with the camper, but it’ll all work out without it. I love showing him places he’s never been! So…here we go on another road trip, y’all. Hang on!

❤️

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 NIV

One Small Step

Sun, 21 Jul 2019 01:30:08 -0600

“One small step…”

It was a sultry summer night…Sunday, July 20, 1969. We had been watching the news over the previous week or so about the astronauts that were going to walk on the moon. I was all of sixteen…that magical age where you’re caught somewhere between Barbies and boys. We didn’t have screens on the windows but it was too hot to leave them closed. We absentmindedly swatted away the mosquitoes as we ate ice cream and stared at the flickering grey screen.

Hippies were preparing for Woodstock. Giggling teenagers were having slumber parties. We were rolling our hair on juice cans and wearing bellbottomed jeans. We popped our gum and knew all about Archie and Veronica’s exploits. Dad would complain about the “yippies” next door playing their drums too loud and the cars that went too fast up our dirt street. A couple of times a week, a Jeep would drive up the road spraying DDT into the neighborhood to keep the mosquito population down to a reasonable level. And once a month or so, a different truck would come and spray oil or tar down on the dusty dirt. The first day out after they sprayed, our bare feet would be covered with a half inch think glob of sandy tar turning our soles into…well, soles.

It was the summer of love. My foster sister was going to school all summer in Athens to get a certificate for preschool education. She wrote me long letters and on the back of each envelope she drew a picture of a bunny and wrote “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69” in an arc above its head. The war in Vietnam was cranking up, but we were young and in love with ourselves and life in general. War was something that happened so far away, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with us. But, in all actuality, we were living in difficult, tumultuous times in this country. We were just too young to really understand it all.

And now, here we were in a darkened room, sweat trickling down our backs, waiting for Neil Armstrong to take “one small step for [a] man…one giant leap for mankind.” I remember being absolutely mesmerized by this amazing feat. This was one of those landmark moments in time. A moment when there was a before and after and nothing would be the same again. It was a unifying event and we all held our collective breath in the moment.

Here it is…fifty years later. Where did that time go? It seems I blinked and now I have great grandchildren. I’m feeling particularly nostalgic because I am here with my Colorado family. Yesterday we celebrated the 90th birthday of the matriarch of my son-in-law’s family. Grandma’s health has been failing this week but by golly, she rallied yesterday and seventeen of us gathered to shower her with our love and ate strawberry shortcake…her all time favorite. Afterwards, we left Grandma to get some rest and went out to dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory.

It was one of those days we will remember always…when Grandma’s sun was shining and the moon echoed with the memories of another hot summers’ night, so long ago.

❤️

“it will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky.”” Psalm 89:37 NIV

Hand it Over

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 01:30:30 -0600

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7”

I have struggled with anxiety all of my life. It’s so, so frustrating because I know what it is. I know the feelings are real, but they stem from thoughts. I have a whole toolbox of techniques that I’ve used over the years…some helpful, some decidedly harmful, all of them ineffective to a large degree. It wasn’t until I started studying the Bible looking for answers that I have begun to find some semblance of relief.

I was reading a devotional about anxiety and fear this week and came across something I had never read before but it really struck home. It talked about a secondary effect of anxiety becoming “a fear of fear itself”. That sums it up so distinctly. I really HATE feeling afraid…to the point of fearing the fear. Suddenly, it just all seemed so ridiculous.

The Bible talks a lot about fear and anxiety. So much so that it is apparent these feelings are prevalent in all humans to some degree. For years…decades…I felt weird about my anxiety. Like there was something wrong with me. That I was somehow flawed and no one else had these feelings. Knowing I’m not alone…even Joshua and Mary and countless others were told by God to not be afraid. That is so comforting to me.

I am excited about the upcoming wedding in two weeks. I’m thrilled for my daughter and her happiness. And, it’s hard to tease out the difference between the butterflies of excitement and the quaking of anxiety. It affects me physically the same and my mind can easily take off on a wild tangent which isn’t anywhere I really want to go.

This most recent Bible study I read says whenever the first feelings of anxiety or fear begin to come into your mind, think of a praise instead. Turn on praise music. Sing a praise song. Thank Jesus for waking you up this morning. What I’ve been doing is telling God about all the beautiful things we’re going to do the day of the wedding. I’ve been telling Him about the pretty dresses the girls are wearing. And all the people we’re going to see that we love and don’t get to see often enough. I’ve invited Him to come along with me and to be there right alongside each of us.

There’s so much in life that can change plans at the last minute. There are illnesses in families or some other unforeseen circumstances that you can’t predict. It doesn’t help to be nervous or worried, but it’s hard not to be. As Jesus said, God takes care of the birds and the fields…surely He’ll take good care of us…even in our worst moments.

I hand things over…repeatedly. And, it does get easier and easier to remember to give it to God first before I let my mind jump on the worry train and go off the rails. There will always be something you can worry about. That’s how the enemy steals your joy. And, there are situations in life that you can’t help but let affect you. Things like watching a loved one decline. Losing someone or something special. An unexpected diagnosis or financial difficulty. God wants to walk those paths with you. Reach out your hand and take His. He’s so much bigger than anything that troubles you.

❤️

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:6-7 NIV

Revisiting Memories

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

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

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

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

She wanted to go antiquing.

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

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

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

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

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

“This place is HUGE!”

Yes, my girl…it is!

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

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

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

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

You’re welcome, Moon Pie.

❤️

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

Saying Goodbye to TOW-Wanda!

Fri, 12 Jul 2019 01:30:35 -0600

“TOW-Wanda…being towed away to her new life with a boy.”

Night before last, I put the camper on Facebook Marketplace at 10:00. It sold in thirty minutes! And, there were thirty people right behind the guy I sold it to, ready to step up and pay cash. I was shocked. I was forthright in explaining the camper needed work or would be perfect for a backyard she shed, writer’s nook, guest quarters, or kids playhouse. Still, the price and “camper” were enough to bring everyone out of the woodwork seeking a deal.

The first person who said he wanted it was a guy who just got married on the 8th. He was so excited to get the camper, he was knowledgeable and fully understood what it was going to take to get her fixed. He wanted to fix up TOW-Wanda so he could take his son camping. He took a picture and sent it to his dad. Then he FaceTimed with his son and I could hear their excitement.

This guy knew campers. He knew what it would take to really fix her right. I am so glad about that because I was worried someone who didn’t really know about them might get it and not heed my warnings and try to tow it to the mountains. We had a long talk. We negotiated a price that was fair and acceptable to us both. I told him, I could see God’s hand all over this. For me…to learn a valuable lesson about inspecting campers well before you buy them. And for him…to affordably get into a camper that he has the skills to fix so that he can be a good dad to his son.

Yes…I lost money on the deal. But, no one got hurt…just my pride. And there’s a little boy out there who is going to be one happy camper when he gets to go out in the mountains with his dad. There is no price tag on the making of a man.

❤️

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

Swift Water

Wed, 10 Jul 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“I enjoyed watching the kayakers at Eagle Water Park yesterday.”

When my brother told me he was going to be at the Day Program all day yesterday, I decided to stop in for a visit to see how he liked it. I needn’t have worried. The activity yesterday morning was drum circle. He has loved the drums ever since he was a little boy and asked Santa for a set of bongos. I enjoyed every minute watching him really get into the music and the rhythm. It was so much fun to see him enjoying himself.

I stopped at the cemetery on my way to town and visited with Mr. Virgo again. I was disappointed the night before at the state of the cemetery. The weeds were over your knees in some places. I was also disappointed there were no bluebirds. I always see bluebirds when I go and it wasn’t the same.

Mike is the volunteer caretaker and usually keeps everything really well mowed and trimmed. This year, the rain and cool weather made everything grow so fast, it all got ahead of him. When I arrived there yesterday, he was mowing next to Mr. Virgo’s grave. Three years ago, when I visited the grave for the last time before I made West Virginia my permanent home, Mike was working on some new pine tree seedlings nearby. I went over and introduced myself. I slipped him a crisp $100 bill and asked him if he could keep watch over my husband’s grave for me because I wouldn’t be back for a year. Tears ran down his cheek when he saw the money and he shook my hand warmly.

“I’d be honored to.”

I have to say, there were a lot of weeds everywhere, but Mr. Virgo’s grave was neat and tidy. I called Mike over and thanked him profusely for his gentle care. We chatted for a good while as I pulled what little weeds there were. I laughed as I told him how Mr. Virgo would never pull the right plants when he worked in a flower bed because if it had a flower on it, it wasn’t a weed in his book.

After visiting with my brother, I decided to drive up the road toward Sunlight Ski area. That is where we first lived when we moved to Glenwood in 1986. We had a five bedroom log house on two acres. As I drove up the narrow blacktop, a wave of vivid memories washed over me and I let myself go back to that place in my mind…how it felt to be 33…young, fit, my whole life ahead of me. There were times in the past after the divorce from that marriage where letting myself feel that would have been unbearable. But yesterday was sweet. It was a warm, good memory of when Daughter #1 was Little’s age and I was a stay-at-home mom for the first time in her life.

Once I’d seen all I needed to see, I headed for Denver. But, I kept being drawn to the river. I stopped at Grizzly Creek and watched a guy in a wetsuit swim out to the middle of the raging water to capture a runaway kayak. It was shocking how fast that water was. I could easily see how people could drown in situations like that.

I stopped at Eagle Water Park and watched kayakers battle the man made waves and rapids on the Eagle River. I ran into a guy that was camping in his truck and told me the clouds were actually angels and he had some really great pictures of them. I think maybe he’d been partaking in a little “herbal refreshment”, if you catch my drift.

My next stop was Minturn. There used to be a really cute yarn shop there but it was gone. I went into a little antique store there and chatted with the owner for a while. I purchased a gift for my son-in-law’s birthday. The owner suggested if I had a few minutes to spare, I should go out behind her store and sit on one of the benches along the river and just enjoy…take a minute. I smiled because I’d been seeing signs all over Glenwood the last couple of days imploring people to slow down as they drive through town.

I went out back and watched a hawk hover on the warm wind currents over the river. The sun was warm on my skin and a soft breeze blew my hair across my face. I closed my eyes and listened to the white water rolling big rocks along the riverbed. When I looked across the river, my eyes wandered up the slope noting the incredible variety of wildflowers in full bloom. There was a cliff that ran along the roadside. In it, there was a large hole…a den, I’m sure. I wondered what creatures had called it home over the years.

I finally pulled myself away and got back on the road. It was going on 3:00 when I got to Vail. I’ll bet I haven’t been in Vail proper in twenty years. I pulled into the parking garage and wandered into the village. There were tourists everywhere, wandering around. I stopped and had a fabulous pizza for an early supper then got back on the road. I hit Denver at about 5:30, but most of the rush hour traffic was heading west.

It was a beautiful day for a slow meander through the most amazing scenery. I arrived back at my little camper feeling as though I’d been gone a month instead of just a quick overnight. I felt good getting up there. I’ll be back to see my brother and take him with us to the wedding in a couple of weeks. Time is flying!

❤️

““But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”
Job 12:7-10 NIV

Quality Time

Mon, 08 Jul 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Little snoozing in the morning sunshine.”

Yesterday was so much fun. Little absolutely loved sleeping in the camper. She went to sleep much earlier than usual and I had to wake her up in time to have some breakfast before we left for church. She was very excited to go to “Nana’s Church.” The contemporary mega church model suits Little’s personality to a T. She sat with me and was focused on the sermon throughout. She loved the praise and worship music. She was so animated when we came out of church and declared she wants to go every week. I am highly encouraging that because she had a definite light about her when we came out.

After church, I took Little home and traded….Big came shopping with me all afternoon. We walked all over Flatirons Crossing Mall, had a delicious lunch at California Pizza Kitchen, enjoyed ice cream on our rest break between stores. She is a frugal shopper and had a wonderful time picking out just what she wanted. As I expected, they were things like athletic wear from Dick’s Sporting Goods…with a definite fashionista flair.

The weather here in Colorado has been quite lovely. We have had rain just about every day and it cools things off nicely. The nights have been wonderful for sleeping in the camper with just the windows open and maybe a small fan. Daughter #2 is in the process of changing jobs and found out today her new job doesn’t start till after the wedding. That means we get some more time together this week. I’m so happy for her. This new job pays more, utilizes her degree, and sends her in a direction that offers advancement.

Mr. FixIt is tying up loose ends at home…preparing to fly to Colorado this weekend. I can’t wait to see him! We really miss each other when we’re apart. He has mowing to do and business to attend to. I’ve been looking up things to do to replace the camping portion of our trip. I’d love to show him the Four Corners area and Mesa Verde. We’ll see what all we have time for.

I hope you enjoyed your 4th of July weekend and have a wonderful Monday!

❤️

“Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” 1 Timothy 5:8 NIV

Making “Little” Memories!

Sun, 07 Jul 2019 01:30:08 -0600

“Little’s nest in TOW-Wanda!”

Little is here! She has been at camp all week and we only saw each other for an hour after I arrived last Sunday. I spent a good deal of time with Big this week, so I could hardly wait till Little got back and came over to “camp” with me.

She is my camper. No one else in my Colorado family is even remotely interested in camping. We had big plans to take the camper up in the mountains and stay a couple of days, but with the unfortunate demise of TOW-Wanda…we had to change plans.

I have the camper pulled around behind Ben & Sue’s house, underneath a locust tree. It doesn’t offer anything but a feeling of protection from the frequent hail storms we’ve had this week. I’m plugged into electric and water so I have all the comforts of home in my own little suite.

This incarnation of TOW-Wanda has a queen sized bed with a memory foam mattress that is swoon worthy. It had a bunk bed over the queen bed that also had a memory foam mattress on it. I removed that because I couldn’t sit up without hitting my head. The little dinette collapses down to make a separate twin sized bed that uses the seat cushions for a mattress. Not comfortable for an adult, but just fine for a kid.

Since I’ll be selling this camper here, I went to Walmart yesterday and bought some plastic tubs with tight fitting lids. I spent a couple of hours yesterday taking things out of the camper and fitting them neatly into the storage bins and put them in the back of my truck underneath the tonneau cover. See? There’s a reason I got that before this trip!

With all the extras removed, Little has plenty of room to stretch out and be comfortable while she camps with me. We went out for ribs last night. (Big is a vegetarian so Little and I have to get our carnivore cravings satisfied while her sister isn’t with us.) We had “Mamma Mia: The Movie” downloaded on the iPad to watch after dark.

I don’t get to see my Colorado grands very often…so when I do, I need to make deep and lasting memories with them. Camping with Little last night. Shopping with Big this afternoon. Life is so good!

❤️

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.”
Proverbs 17:6 NIV

The Mother-Daughter Dance

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

“I am a Happy Camper!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

America’s Bread Basket is Baking!

Sun, 30 Jun 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Clockwise from top left: My rig in the summer sun in Kansas, the long straight stretch that is Kansas…look how green!, my digital laser thermometer that I use to check my hub temperatures at every stop, me looking decidedly fresher in the AM than I was by evening!”

You know you are getting into farm and ranch land when you start seeing billboards advertising bovine genetics and DEKALB seed corn. I left the Lazy Day Campground in Danville, Missouri yesterday morning about 8:00. It was a very long, very HOT day. A section of I-70 was closed at Kansas City so I took the recommended detour. I recognized it as the route I usually take anyway to avoid downtown. There is one interchange on the interstate near the city where you have to get from the right hand side onramp to a left hand side exit in less than 1/4 mile. Pulling a camper makes that a real challenge, let me tell you!!! At least it wasn’t with big TOW-Wanda on a Friday night at rush hour. We have to look for the little things!

When I was emptying the tanks on the camper before I left yesterday, it wasn’t 8:00 yet and the sun would take the hide right off of you. The temperature quickly soared to the high 90’s and by the time I was halfway through Kansas, it was 100. The low was only expected to go down to 80 so I stopped and got a hotel room. When I first got in the room, I cranked up the air conditioner and stretched out on the bed. I texted Mr. FixIt and said, “I am NEVER doing this again!!!” He texted back that I don’t have to. I’m holding him to it!

Ok, it was the third day. It was hard. It was hot. I was tired and probably a little hungry and dehydrated. And knowing I have over 350 more miles to go had me feeling really sorry for myself there for a few minutes. But, once I rested for a while and got something to eat and drink, I felt a ton better. When I stop tonight, it’s going to be at my son-in-law’s parents’ house so I’ll be with family. It’s going to take me a week to rest up and acclimate to the altitude. Mr. FixIt will join me on the 13th so that time will pass quickly.

I had a lot of time to think about this as I was driving yesterday. I don’t like being this far away from Mr. FixIt. I thought about that from every angle. I asked myself if it was co-dependency. I don’t think it’s that at all. I do all kinds of things without him and I don’t need to be attached at the hip. I talked with my dear friend Deneene about this last night. She lost her husband unexpectedly about a year after Mr. Virgo died. She is also recently remarried. We decided it’s not co-dependency at all. It’s the fact that we KNOW what can happen and how quickly it can come. I don’t think it’s that I’m doing something without him. It’s that I’m doing something so far away from him and I can’t get to him quickly. THAT I don’t like at all.

Still, it is fun in many ways. I’ve seen some beautiful countryside. The sky was blue and wide open. I’ve forgotten what that looks like living in West Virginia. (I took the picture while driving but my phone was in a cradle and all I did was touch the screen. No eyes off the road for me!) I don’t have anything pressing to do once I get to Denver so I can relax and catch up on my rest, keep myself really hydrated to counteract the altitude, knit, write, and visit with my Colorado peeps. I could not believe how green Kansas is. They had the same long, drawn out, wet spring everyone else had. It is so hard to believe the temperature is in the high 90’s in Colorado and one week ago they had two feet of snow. Crazy weather!

Oh, see that picture bottom right? That’s my digital laser thermometer. After burning up an axle in Indiana two summer ago, I check my hubs religiously…every time I stop and get out of the truck. I know you can just put your hand down there and feel if it’s hot, but how hot is too hot and if it IS that hot, you’ll burn the heck out of your hand. I keep watch on it and it’s always between 100-110. That’s perfect. If it goes up, it means the bearings need grease.

Well, I’m on the last leg of this Grand Adventure. The last leg of the first part of it, anyway! It’s just me and Jesus…making our way west!

❤️

“….“The Lord watch between you and me, when we are out of one another’s sight.”

Genesis 31:49 ESV

#Separation, #Marriage, #Adventure

Travel: Lotsa Learnin’ Goin’ On Here!

Sat, 29 Jun 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“I use a French press a lot when I camp. I have a manual grinder, too.”

So, yesterday morning I took my time waking up. I do that when I travel. My Bible app has a year long study where you read the whole bible in a year. With the trip to Florida, being sick, and getting ready for this trip, I was thirteen days behind. I don’t like to get behind on that one because there’s a good deal to read every day. I spent a little extra time reading while I enjoyed a tasty cup of coffee. I chatted with Mr. FixIt for a while. I finally got on the road about 10:00.

The drive was uneventful. I usually drive in silence because I do my best thinking when I drive. But I wanted to listen to music so I pulled into a rest area and tried to figure out how to connect my phone to the sound system on the truck. It took me a few tries but soon I was bebopping down the highway listening to some praise music.

Around 3:00, I pulled into another rest area and stretched out in front of my hillbilly air conditioner again. When I was almost to St. Louis, Mr. FixIt called. We were chatting as the GPS took me around the city. Still…it was 5:00…on a Friday…in June! Heck of a time to go through there. I wasn’t on the phone long because I needed to concentrate.

Suddenly, two things happened. I noticed the sky got really dark all of a sudden. And, Mavis…my GPS persona…announce I-70 was closed. Closed? Are you kidding me? How do you close a whole interstate. I had to make some quick decisions but the weather did it for me. The sky opened and I was suddenly driving through what looked like a car wash.

I quickly pulled off the highway and into a Denny’s parking lot. I ran through the rain and jumped in the camper. I pulled my vegetable lasagna out of my 12v slow cooker and ate dinner while I watched both an amazing lightning show as well as a band of bright red storms march toward me on the Weather Channel radar.

I looked through the Good Sam Camping Guide and found a campground on the other side of St. Louis. I called and they had one site left. I should have called yesterday morning but I honestly forgot it was Friday. I seldom make reservations when I travel and so far I have never lacked a place to stay.

Before long, the storm was past me and I got back behind the wheel. The detour took about an hour because it was bumper to bumper stop and go traffic for 19 miles. I arrived at the campground and registered. They showed me to my site and it’s perfectly lovely. When I was at Walmart yesterday, I bought a replacement shower head for my camper. I installed it after I arrived last night. Easy peasy. And, the hot water heater worked! Imagine that! We hadn’t even tried it out yet.

As soon as I could, I jumped in that teeny tiny little shower. It was easier to FIX the shower than it was to TAKE one! Once I was all done, I felt like a million bucks. If you look at the map, I am almost exactly at the halfway point. That’s great…but I still have a long way to go! I’m not going to try to make it to Colorado tomorrow. I’ll take it easy and stop in western Kansas or eastern Colorado.

Learned a lot of things today. 1) Make reservations if your camping on a Friday. 2) Pay closer attention to the calendar. 3) Check further ahead for weather and road conditions. 4) Changing a shower head is easy. 5) Listening to praise music is a great prep tool for stressful circumstances!

Enjoy your Saturday!

❤️

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”
James 1:2-4 ESV

Road Trip: Can’t Keep a Good Gal Down!

Fri, 28 Jun 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“A Shady Spot”

If you would have asked me at 10:00 Wednesday night, I would have told you (as I told you this morning) there was NO WAY I was going to leave for Colorado yesterday morning. Ahhhh…but, once I got past the icky stomach, took my tummy medicine, and slept a solid eight hours, it was a whole different ballgame.

Because I was getting up and down, I slept in the guest room so I wouldn’t wake up Mr. FixIt. I awoke before dawn…around 5:00…and felt great. I read my devotionals and caught up on some correspondence then my sweetheart came to check on me around 7:00. I met him with a big smile and said I was good to go! He smiled back with relief. He doesn’t like it when I’m sick anymore that the other way around.

It took a couple of hours to finish packing the truck and camper and I was on the road by 9:00. My first stop was Walmart to pick up a few things. I had some things to return. I got back to the camper and put away my purchases and got in the truck. There were my return items sitting on the front seat. Oy! I really didn’t want to cart them to Colorado so I went back in and stood in a long, slow line. But, it’s done and I was out before too long.

The next and final stop was gas and a great big drink to stay hydrated on my trip. The young gal behind the counter was very excited because she is leaving on vacation today. Her very first camping trip! Well, I turned right back around and talked with her for awhile! I sure hope she has a grand time and decides to keep right on camping! Those first few camping trips are critical. You’ll either love it or hate it.

It was really hot yesterday and about midway through my drive, I pulled over into a rest area to stretch out on my bed. Well, it was over 90 degrees! Of course, when you pull into a rest area, there’s no electricity, so no AC. You need to improvise. The last time I drove cross country alone, I stopped in Kansas for a rest and needed to do something to cool off. I had a tiny little battery fan and a cold pack from the freezer. It worked ever so slightly, but it wasn’t long before the cold pack was melted and that was the end of that.

When I was at Walmart yesterday, I bought two 10” fans that are powered by fan and batteries. I’ve also taken to carrying a very large bottle of water that I keep in the freezer of the camper. Went I stretched out on my bed yesterday, I sat the large frozen container in a basin and put the fan behind it. I also had three water bottles I had frozen. I set them up in front of the other fan. I positioned myself in front of the cool air and had a lovely mini siesta. Perfect! I popped all the bottles back in the freezer before I pulled back on the highway.

“Hillbilly Air Conditioner!”

That right there is a little hillbilly ingenuity. Appalachians are a resourceful lot. I arrived at my favorite little campground in Richmond, Indiana at around 5:30…had supper from my slow cooker and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings as the sun went down. I tried to keep from turning on the AC, but it was still 85 degrees at 8:00 and I was done with the heat by that time. I’ve never slept all night with the AC on in this little camper. It’s pretty noisy in this tiny little space.

I wrote early last night so I could have a good solid night’s sleep. Yesterday was a long day, but I didn’t get very far. That’s usually how it works on the first day out. For me, anyway. I monitored all the systems on the camper and the truck and everything worked just as it should so I don’t foresee any difficulties. As always, I say my prayers for travel mercies. I appreciate when you do, as well.

Have a beautiful Friday!!!

❤️

“Guard me, O Lord, from the hands of the wicked; preserve me from violent men, who have planned to trip up my feet.”
Psalms 140:4 ESV

A Tidy Purchase

Wed, 26 Jun 2019 01:30:58 -0600

“A tonneau cover turned out to be an extraordinary pargain!”

I told you all yesterday about our great find…a tonneau cover for my truck. We installed it yesterday and it was SO easy. It only took about fifteen minutes to do. We had to trim a couple small places in order for the tailgate to close, but that was super easy to do. We didn’t realize exactly how good this deal was till Mr. FixIt looked up this particular model of cover. New, they sell for nearly $800! And the carpeted bed liner sells for almost $500! We got them both for $75!!! Ok, I’m a little excited! Such a good bargain hunter I have for a husband.

We went to the farm yesterday. It appears the young man we had arranged to mow the yard…didn’t. But that’s ok. It is still mow-able without having to bale it. It is awfully wet out there. In the two weeks we were gone, the farm got over four inches of rain. We only got two at the Ponderosa. The ground is soggy when you walk out there. The house at the farm sits back in a holler and doesn’t get much sunlight. It’s nice for keeping cool, but causes a lot of problems with mold and mildew.

We noticed some evidence of termites this time. The first time I’ve seen that so we need to jump on that right away. I did a deep cleaning out there because my uncle is coming for a visit while I’m in Colorado and I wanted fresh bed linens for him. I mopped the floors and dusted. Mr. FixIt cleared off the back porch and scrubbed it down. Everything looked wonderful when we were finished.

I had every intention of leaving for Colorado today, but have decided to wait till tomorrow. This way I don’t have to run at breakneck speed getting everything done and I can take my time. The linens have all been washed and put back on the bed. I have some items to take out of the camper…things I took camping at Blackwater Falls and won’t need on this trip. This will cut down on the weight I pull which will improve my fuel consumption.

Oh, another thing Mr. FixIt did for me. Something was wrong with the water pump in the little camper. A water pump is supposed to turn on, build up pressure, then shut off. It only comes back on when the water pressure drops as you’re using water in the sink or toilet. Mine wouldn’t shut off. It ran on and on and was dreadfully loud. While we were in Florida, we discussed it and I ordered a new pump. It was here when we returned. Mr. FixIt installed it yesterday and it works perfectly! Now the only things I have to do is replace the shower nozzle and test out the hot water heater and we’re in business. Having your own shower when you camp is such a luxury.

I’m really getting excited now about the trip. I can’t wait to see my Colorado family…I’ve missed them so much! Today will be fun packing and preparing for a much needed road trip. Many of you asked yesterday. Mr. FixIt will fly out in a few weeks to join me before the wedding. Then, we will camp around Colorado and all the way back across the country. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a whole year…I can hardly wait to get started and savor every single moment!!!

❤️

“Blessed shall you be when you come in, and blessed shall you be when you go out.” Deuteronomy 28:6 ESV

Home Again, Home Again!

Sun, 23 Jun 2019 01:30:48 -0600

“Clockwise from top: The BEST Carolina BBQ I have EVER eaten…Phifers!, I almost finished one sock this trip, Griffen the Grey (a French Bulldog), a field of yellow lilies.”

I love a good road trip. And I love getting back to my own bed. In this case…the one in TOW-Wanda! I have missed this camper so much while we were gone. Isn’t that silly? Mr. FixIt and I were trying to explain to our friends in South Carolina the merits of sleeping in our little camper out on our property with this really great memory foam mattress. I think they got it. No matter…we made a bee line home yesterday and I barely emptied the truck before I was stretched out and writing this!

I got a text from Big yesterday asking if we were about to get hit with some bad storms. I thought we had dodged them, but apparently not. We stopped in Statesville, NC at an RV dealer to get something when the sky started looking really menacing. We hurried over to our favorite BBQ joint and just got seated when the rain started coming down in buckets.

This barbecue place was just a chance find a couple of years ago. We stopped over night in Statesville that trip and the gal at the front desk said we had to go to Phifer’s for the best BBQ in North Carolina. Now, I’m not a huge fan of the North Carolina style sauce. It has more of a mustard base and has a distinct vinegary taste to it. But theirs? Oh…..my…..gosh. It is sublime!

I asked the nice BBQ lady yesterday what the best thing on their menu was. She said, “ALL of the things!” I said…bring it!

I had a BBQ sandwich with the slaw on it. And a side of fries. I am a fast eater. Mr. FixIt is always getting on me about that. Not yesterday. I savored every last morsel. And, I kid you not, when I beheld the last bite between my thumb and index finger…I felt sad. It was over! It ended far too soon!!! It was a heady experience that I wanted to hang onto. The sauce has just the slightest kick to it. And it seemed there were red pepper flakes in the meat itself. So my mouth held onto this delicious warmth for an hour or so afterwards. I have never experienced food in such a way before!

I want to get back in the car and live next door to this place.

Is that so unreasonable?

Ok…ok. I’ll just have to wait till the next time, I suppose. Uber eats would be WAY over the top, right?

It rained on us part of the way home but it wasn’t too bad. I almost finished knitting one sock of the pair. I caught a picture of a field of yellow lilies. And there’s little Griffen, the grey! He was just as kissable as he looks.

And here it the very best part…there was NO water in the basement!!! Thank you, Jesus…we’re coming to Your house this morning!

❤️

“Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do.”
Ecclesiastes 9:7 ESV

The Deep South

Sat, 22 Jun 2019 01:30:57 -0600

“A canopy of live oak lines a stately boulevard in the equestrian city of Aiken, South Carolina.”

I don’t know if y’all consider South Carolina to be the “Deep South” or not, but I do. Anything south of the Mason Dixon line is Deep South to me. I love the south. Southern hospitality, amazing architecture and delicious taste sensations await you in the south. When you can sit and get as much moisture off the outside of a cold glass of iced tea as there is liquid inside…you are celebrating the Summer Solstice in the Carolinas.

When we left the condo yesterday morning, we made a bee line for St. Augustine where I met up with my longest long-time friend…my sister of another mother…my partner in crime…mi amiga who would open a can of whoop a** on anyone who ever did me wrong….THAT friend. We jumped out of our cars and ran into each other’s arms. We haven’t seen each other since my mom died fifteen years ago and our reunion has been long overdue.

We crammed a lot into the following two and a half hours till we finally had to kiss and hug over the car door for another half hour. That’s a southern thing…the long front porch goodbye then the longer driveway goodbye. We finally tore ourselves away and headed for Aiken, South Carolina.

My dear friend Deneene and her husband Mark got married this spring and we were unable to attend because we were away at the OBX. We had never been to their home nor had we met the newest member of the family…a lovely blue-grey French bulldog named Griffen. Shortly after we arrived, we went to visit Mary…a Sister on the Fly I met in Nashville four years ago at the Country Living Fair. Deneene and Mary met here and somehow I came up in the conversation and they both knew me. Small world.

We went on a “windshield tour” of Aiken and saw much of the equestrian facilities. We drove around and ogled the stately homes along wide boulevards connected by tunnels of live oak dripping with Spanish moss. The air was sticky and hot and we soon found ourselves at Deneene and Mark’s favorite ice cream parlor. I had a blackberry ice cream that made me swoon, it was so good.

I caught this picture of the lovely old live oak canopy. Mark stopped and let me out so I could patiently wait for the traffic to subside in order to get as unobstructed a view as possible. I stood in the middle of the street and marveled at the view. The story is, a physician used to drive his horse and carriage up this boulevard to and from his rounds. His wife felt so sorry for him in the scorching Carolina sunshine so she had these live oak trees planted to provide him shade.

It was a lovely day and evening. Old friends are the touchstones we have with our former selves. Love knows no distance. Nor does it know time. Each visit picked up right where we left off the last time. You almost feel like, “So, anyway…as I was saying…” And they totally know what you’re talking about. That’s a GOOD friend…a dear friend…an honest and true friend.

What an incredible honor it is to have friends like that.

Today we head on home. It will be at least a ten hour day. I knitted all day yesterday. I can’t ask Mr. FixIt to do all the driving today though. I have to do my share. But I do so love to knit while we drive. We have periods of animated conversations. And, we have periods of companionable silence. We are great travel companions, come to find out.

❤️

“Again the watchman reported, "He reached them, but he is not coming back. And the driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi, for he drives furiously."”
2 Kings 9:20 ESV

Vacations: Past & Present

Fri, 21 Jun 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Vacation Photos: The Making of Memories”

The idea of a vacation was totally foreign to me till I was in my late twenties. My family were not big travelers. We didn’t go to the beach every summer like many of my friends’ families did. We didn’t go camping or hike or play on the river that was a mere five blocks from our house. My Grandma was only west of the Mississippi a couple of times in her life. The first was to see my Uncle Sonny get his wings as an Air Force pilot. The second was when she went to Minnesota to visit my aunt’s resort on Lake Kabetogama. Two vacations in her life.

We didn’t have the money to have extravagant vacations. We visited my aunt and uncle over near the eastern panhandle of West Virginia for a week every summer. That was as close to a vacation that I ever got until I was married to Hubby #2. Our first real vacation was a road trip, car camping around Colorado. After that, we went to West Virginia several times to visit family and one year we went on a twenty mile backpack trip there.

The first extravagant vacation we had was a trip to Cancun with friends the year before I had Daughter #2. We went to Hawaii once, but it was very difficult to get him away from his practice for very long. We did quick trips to DC, Yellowstone, and Disney. After he and I parted company, I traveled alone whenever I could. I took Daughter #2 on a three week road trip when she turned thirteen and took her to Mexico for her sixteenth birthday.

When Mr. Virgo came along, we had great plans to travel when he retired. We did go on a long road trip for our honeymoon. We went to Utah once, and Yellowstone twice. In the summer of 2011, I took him to West Virginia to meet my family. He wanted to take me to Europe to see all the beautiful places he had been. We were buying a camper for retirement when he died.

Heading out on my own again, this time with my own little camper, I found travel to be my solace…my escape…a panacea for the pain of losing my husband. I traveled a lot in those years following his death. And, I was still on the road when my Uncle Bud called me home to live on the family farm. Even living there seemed like a vacation…a dream vacation luxuriating in the memories of my loving family.

Then, Mr. FixIt came along. Thankfully, he was retired and itching to get out and do things. We’ve already accomplished more travel in the short time we’ve been together than I did in the last thirty years. But, is it really “vacation” when you’re retired? Yes and no. No, because every day is Saturday, to some extent. We aren’t bound by the clock and time is somewhat our own. Yes when you consider all the work our properties entail.

I am so grateful for the opportunities to travel and see new places. I know there may come a time in the future when I may not get to do these things, so I’m making up for lost time. I’m banking memories like a squirrel hiding nuts. Someday, I’ll look back on all this…I’ll read the pages of this blog or my book…and have some wonderful stories to tell.

❤️

“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man.”
Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 ESV

A Sweet Treat...Yarn!

Wed, 19 Jun 2019 01:30:04 -0600

“Clockwise from Top Left: Hibiscus, Chasing the rain, Low Country Shrimp & Grits, Fishing Boats, New yarns & a present, interesting sand castle.”

One of my readers sent me a message the other day and said I simply MUST go check out the little yarn shop in Ormond Beach. I told her I would sure try to get there. But, I’ve purchased yarn everywhere the last year and I just was having a hard time justifying going because I knew I wouldn’t get out the door without at least two more sock yarns.

I was right! After receiving a little nudge from her yesterday, I told Mr. FixIt we should head to She Sells Yarn after our walk on the beach. He is such a good sport. He’ll take me anywhere I want to go. We walked in and I introduced myself. The owner (Helen) said, “Oh! You have a gift here!!!” Sure enough, there was a little package with my name on it and a jaunty “Happy Birthday” message written on the bag. Inside were little locally-made turtle stitch markers! Thank you, Cindy!!! That was so sweet of you to think of me!

She Sells Yarn is a beautiful shop with a wonderful collection of yarns. I am always partial to locally raised, spun, or dyed yarns and this place didn’t disappoint. One in particular that intrigued me was String Theory Colorworks’ “Matrix”…a blend of 80% SW Merino, 10% Cashmere, and 10% Stellina (to give it sparkle…who doesn’t like a little sparkly in their socks?) This yarn is developed and “lovingly hand dyed” by a husband/wife duo living in Orlando. He is an engineer, she is a biology major. One day she asked, “Honey? Wouldn’t it be cool if…?” And the ball got rolling. She started dying yarn that night with a mathematically determined pattern that would guarantee an even repeating stripe pattern. With their backgrounds, they decided all their yarns had to have science-y names. And the rest is history.

The other yarn is by Violet Flamingo Fibers of Satellite Beach, Florida. Wendy uses ethically sourced and cruelty free fibers for happy socks with good karma. The yarns are all hand dyed in beautiful colorways named after local attractions, flora, and fauna. I chose a mix of bright primary colors called Daytona Beach Boardwalk. This fingering weight yarn is a blend of 85% merino and 15% nylon which will knit up into a lovely, non-pilling sock.

Thursday night is Fiber Friends night at She Sells Yarn so I am looking forward to toting my knitting down and chatting with some of the local makers and meeting new friends. We’ve heard there have been terrible rains in West Virginia since we’ve been gone so we are heading out Friday to drive home with stops along the way to visit dear friends. Even with my darned sinus infection, we’ve still had a wonderful, very restful and relaxing vacation. It won’t be long after we get home that I’ll be packing up the camper and heading to Colorado!

Stay tuned in the coming weeks for some really fun and interesting developments in my world! I’m getting excited…and you should, too!

❤️

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!”
Psalms 90:17 ESV

Happy Birthday!

Thu, 13 Jun 2019 01:30:17 -0600

“Happy Birthday, to ME!”

June is my birthday month.

I love June. I love my birthday. So I just combine them and celebrate the whole month!

After sleeping twelve hours straight on Tuesday night, Mr. FixIt and I went down to the beach and walked then played in the pool for a while. After lunch, I took a three hour nap. Seeing a trend there? It’s all about ME ‘cause it’s my birthday month!

Just as I woke up, Mr. FixIt walked in to make sure I didn’t sleep too long and not be able to sleep later. Then he asked me that question every woman longs to hear.

“How would you like to go eat ice cream for dinner?”

Back off girls…I saw him first!

Yes, ladies…I have married the perfect man. Not only does he celebrate my birthday with me for a month…but he also takes me out for an ice cream dinner. Sexiest man alive.

After a dinner of butter pecan in a chocolate dipped waffle cone, we drove around. We shopped at a couple of Mr. FixIt’s stores. We found Aldi’s and picked up a few groceries. Wonderful strawberries for a dollar.

A simple day…Birthday Eve.

Today is my actual birthday.

Sixty-six. Wow. Why does it sound so much older than sixty-five?

Some of the grandchildren were over Monday evening before we left. I told them how old I was going to be.

“Sixty-six! Can you believe that? It has been half a century since I was sixteen! Half a century!!! You know that’s fifty years, right???”

My wise grandson-in-law said, “Did it go fast?”

How do you answer that? Yes…it flew by in a nanosecond! No, it lasted forever! It’s both.

It’s the coolest thing…to be sixteen plus fifty. I was sixteen in 1969…the summer of love. “God Bless Pink Summers ‘69!” That’s how my best friend signed her letters when she was off at a summer internship. Woodstock. Rock and Roll. Hippies. Bell bottoms. Long hair.

I thought I was free.

I was so wrong.

It took living those fifty years to actually BECOME free. Funny how that works. I’d hate to have gone through all that and not learned the beautiful, hard, gritty, wonderful lessons involved.

Sixty-six. Nope, that doesn’t bother me a bit.

I’m a crone now. I love that!

Happy Birthday to ME!

❤️

““ ‘ “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” ’” Numbers 6:24-26 NIV

Van Life

Mon, 10 Jun 2019 01:30:34 -0600

“One of our Girl Campers brought her conversion van to camp in. We were sold!”

My dear friend Gail has a conversion van that is tricked out like a camper. It’s currently in the camper hospital so she camped in a tent this time. But one of the other gals brought her conversion van and was kind enough to give me a peek inside.

I can see now why van girls love these so much! There is a lot you can pack into a small space. Christy has hers in soft pastels and cream, making the space seem much larger. She uses her Yeti cooler as extra seating. She has a whole kitchen crammed in this little cabinet.

This really got my creative juices flowing and I was thinking of all the things I can do to the minivan when I get ready to convert it. The only downside I could see is no air conditioner. She does have a 12v fan she can use, but I’m thinking I would be limited to spring and fall excursions.

Christy spend five weeks at Quartzite, Arizona in the winter and never felt claustrophobic in this setup. She is thinking she would like to take it on the road full-time. I belong to a few Facebook groups that focus on the van life. It’s intriguing…but a little too confining for two.

Anyway, someone asked to see the van…so here she is! Enjoy!

❤️

“It’s better to live in a hut in the wilderness than with a crabby, scolding spouse!” Proverbs 21:19 TPT

One Hour & Thirty-Five Dollars = A Haircut

Thu, 06 Jun 2019 01:30:12 -0600

“Before and After…what a difference a haircut makes!”

I haven’t really felt like my perky self for a while. Nothing I could really put my finger on. Maybe a little tired. Maybe a little down about aging. I’ve been losing weight but avoiding the mirror. It didn’t really dawn on me till I saw pictures from the baptism a couple of weeks ago and I was up on the stage with my bonus granddaughter. Gasp! I looked SO old! I looked like my grandma. Not that that is a bad thing, but I’m talking in her 80’s. I was in desperate need of a haircut!

I always celebrate birthday month…not just a week or a weekend or a day. Nope…I was born in June…I celebrate JUNE! This month I turn 66. It’s only a number. I have more energy than I did at half my age. I remember when I turned 26. I was SO depressed! It had been a WHOLE DECADE since I got my driver’s license. Give me a break! Now it’s been half a century since I got my driver’s license. insert eye roll here

No, it wasn’t my actual calendar age that was getting to me. It was my hair. I got lazy. I got tired of going in every six weeks and getting it cut. I got tired of sometimes having the perfect cut and other times wondering what went wrong. I got tired of spending the money on something that you just have to do over and over and over.

It’s not my fault really. I saw beautiful older women on Pinterest…long flowing locks of silver hair caressing unnaturally perky breasts. Stylishly dressed. Leaning against brick buildings in downtown New York City….their jacket carelessly draped across their shoulders…their chunky boho jewelry and oversized sunglasses deflecting my gaze from anything that could barely be called crepe-y skin. No…Pinterest assured me I would look uber chic with long, silver hair.

Then, I took a look at myself and wondered what on earth possessed me to do such a thing. Me…in my JCPenney sleeveless summer dress made from t-shirt material. Me…of the ample upper arms and comfortable tummy. Me…of the “I know I have makeup SOMEWHERE in this house!” Me…of the Chacos and farmer tan and clip-on sunglasses and floppy brimmed had and a riding mower. Yeah…it was time for a reality check.

I called Michelle on Tuesday and cried uncle. I said, “You win! I’m coming in to cut it off!” I’m almost sure I heard an audible sigh of relief from the other end of the phone. “How’s tomorrow at 11:00?” She didn’t want to wait too long for fear I might change my mind.

An hour. Thirty-five dollars. That’s all it took to bring back my sparkle. It’s really true…if you LOOK good, you FEEL good. I walked out of there feeling like a million bucks! It’s such a simple thing…getting a haircut. Oh, and a pedi. A MUCH needed pedi. I hadn’t had a “Me Day” for such a long time. It was way overdue and I feel so much better.

I sent the before and after photos to Mr. FixIt with a note…”Here’s the girl you fell in love with!” And you wanna know what he said?

“You’re beautiful…but, I didn’t fall in love with your hair.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

❤️

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

Finding my Father

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do I do now?

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

Then…my dad died.

Then…Mr. Virgo died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

Field of Dreams

Tue, 04 Jun 2019 01:30:23 -0600

“My Field of Dreams.”

I know, I know…how many pictures of a field am I going to post here, right? Oh…however many times I am moved by the view, I suppose…which is daily. Every day, every hour, the view changes with the light. This was taken Sunday afternoon after the heavy rain and hail that swept through the surrounding area. I love the way the sky is slightly pink as the sun begins to set over the hill far to the left there. The air is soft with humidity and brushes the edges of the woods with a velvety glow.

I have a lifelong sister/friend who asked me yesterday if there wasn’t family who could come and mow this for us. After all…I’m 65. I smiled at her love and concern for me. Then I told her what I tell everyone who asks why I still mow. First, 65…nay, 66 in nine days…is young, if you ask me. Second, this is my home, too. Of course I’m going to work on it. Also, seriously…all I do is sit on a riding mower and drive around and around with headphones on listening to rock and roll music. How hard is that?

My biggest reason is this…I spent my entire life praying to have exactly what I have now. I have so much joy in my heart, a few hours driving around cutting grass is the smallest of prices to pay. I truly love it! That being said, my shoulders are tired and sore when I’m done. I wish for a hot shower and a masseuse…only one of which is readily available. But it’s a good sore…a good tired. And I sleep really soundly when I’ve worked hard.

I mowed the big fields yesterday while Mr. FixIt was in town working. We have a lot to get done before we head out camping on Thursday. According to the weather report, we are in for a cool, cloudy weekend with the possibility of rain showers. That’s ok…we’ll have plenty to keep us busy under the canopies. I bought walls for the canopy that will hold heat in. Gail has her canopy, as well. Camping is fun, no matter what!

❤️

“Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.” Psalm 96:11-12 NIV

From Beast to Beauty

Sat, 01 Jun 2019 01:30:03 -0600

“The glorious Luna Moth!”

It takes about ten days for the egg of the luna moth to hatch into a tiny caterpillar and another five to six weeks for that caterpillar to go through multiple instars (stages of growth) to reach its full size…2.5” long by 3/4” diameter. That’s a big green worm! Once it reaches its full size, it spins a cocoon and usually about two weeks later, the moth emerges, wings shriveled and damp. Over the course of several hours, fluid is pumped into the wings, they dry, and voila…one of the largest silk moths of North America emerges to grace us with its presence.

Normally, the luna moth has a wingspan of about 4.5” but they can be as large as 7” across. This fellow is a male. His wings angle backwards somewhat and his abdomen is smaller because he isn’t carrying the 200-400 eggs the female has. They fly in the evening and at night in late spring and early summer. They don’t particularly like when the temperature dips into the 50’s. They’ll be somewhat paralyzed until it warms up.

I love when I catch sight of one of these beautiful moths. You don’t see them quite as often as you used to because a type of predatory fly was introduced to control the invasive gypsy moths and they’ve damaged several species of moths, including the glorious luna.

Mr. FixIt called me into the kitchen last night so I could see this fellow. I ran outside with my phone so I could take pictures while the light was still good. As I was coming back inside, I found the remains of a luna who wasn’t so lucky…wings scattered here and there, coated with drops of dew. Nature. It’s a rough world out there.

“The remnants of an unfortunate demise.”

When I came out to the camper to write afterwards, I watched a video on Facebook. The premise was two former classmates run into each other in the parking lot of the grocery store. They chat and it becomes apparent one is wealthy and the other is not. The one who was not tells the other about her son getting a job after graduation and that he is thriving and so happy. The other kind of turns her nose up a bit and brags about HER son who is going to Stanford. And, as a matter of fact, he was on his way to pick her up….wasn’t that sweet? The poorer mother smiled and nodded and congratulated the other mom on her son’s great achievements. But you could see when wealthy mom left, the working boy’s mom looked a little let down.

I am ashamed to say, I can relate to that…however fleetingly. This is the time of year when news of graduations fill the pages of social media with our darlings’ academic accomplishments. It’s beautiful and I don’t begrudge them their joy. Not one bit. We were thrilled when Daughter #1 got her Associates Degree, majoring in drama. We told her that, and $3.50 would buy her a cup of coffee and she should go on and at least get her Bachelors Degree. But no…she and her fiancé had other plans and married a month or two after graduation.

At some point along the way, she realized perhaps her parents had been right and she had an excellent opportunity to go back to school at which time she became a Special Ed teacher. Again, we were so proud. Then, somewhere down the road, she went back and got her Masters. She’s still married to her college sweetheart and coming up on their 24th anniversary.

Daughter #2 is brilliant…maybe more so than her sister as far as IQ goes. But she has always danced to her own music, struggled over eight years getting her Bachelors but never gave up, and now works in management in the food service industry…the love for which she received from her beloved stepfather…Mr. Virgo.

In the movie I watched earlier, the Stanford son berated his mother for keeping him from his friends and let her know she was distinctly cramping his style while the poor son brings his mama flowers and tells her how much he loves and appreciates her for everything she does for him. A dramatization, for sure. But there is much truth there, unfortunately.

A while back, a friend from long ago posted photos of her daughter getting her doctorate. They flew to Australia to visit her where she was doing research. Her two younger daughters were married, one after the other. Beautiful. Successful. This girl and Daughter #2 had play dates together when they were babies. I had a moment of full on green envy.

For only a moment. Because, in that moment, Daughter #2 called me on the phone. I sat back and listened to her go on and on about the upcoming wedding and how her dress is just so perfect and makes her look like a million bucks. We chatted about how the bouquets are being made with origami flowers from comic book pages. And she found a real Viking drinking horn at a pawn shop and that’s what they’re going to toast with! Wow! And under her dress? Tie dyed Vans…of course!

As I listened to her happy voice, my mind drifted back over the many phone calls when she struggled and suffered through depression and anxiety. Really struggled. And I realized…rich, poor, Stanford, Community College, PhD, shift lead in a restaurant…none of that matters. She’s happy. There is light and life in her voice. My eyes filled with tears…from shame that I was even momentarily envious…and from sincere joy and relief that my baby didn’t end up a statistic like so many others have.

I still have her here…in all her quirky, wonderful weirdness. As we prepared to hang up, she gave me that sweetest gift every mama craves.

“I love you, mama…all over your face!”

“I love you too, Moon Pie.”

She made it…just like the caterpillar to the glorious Luna.

❤️

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4 NIV

Keep Moving Forward...Always

Fri, 31 May 2019 01:30:48 -0600

“I’ve finished the wedding quilt!”

I have over 28,000 emails on my iPhone. This makes my daughter crazy. She says, “What if you missed something???” I say, “Yeah, there’s always a chance of that. But, what if I stayed on my phone for 8 hours a day reading, answering, or deleting every e-mail that came through? I wouldn’t get anything else done.”

I have been known to miss an occasional message, but for the most part, when I scan through, I see the important stuff. A couple of weeks ago, I saw something intriguing come through. Someone was searching for quotes about if or how and why blogging through grief has helped me cope. I wrote back and didn’t think much more about it.

It was a rainy, cool day yesterday. I cuddled up in my little camper and stitched the binding on my daughter’s wedding quilt and listened to the rain hit the roof. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of something brown running by and under my camper. It was two large rabbits. They chased each other all afternoon and made me smile. They made me think of Watership Down. One stopped beneath my window in plain sight. I whispered, “Be careful of the hrududus, bunny!”

Sometimes I feel like I run out of things to say here. I think maybe you’ve heard every story I ever knew. Sometimes I think I begin to sound like your slightly dotty Aunt Felicity who tells you everything she ate today. I know that’s an exaggeration, but still…I wonder if I’m wearing out my welcome. When I stitch or knit or mow or drive, I have conversations with God and I ask him to tell me when I’m done. And, every…single…time, He sends me someone to tell me, “No, dear one. Not yet. Someone tomorrow needs your stories.”

As I stitched on my daughter’s wedding quilt, I watched old black & white reruns of the Andy Griffith Show. Up popped a message from a reader I haven’t heard from in four and a half years. In those years she had lost a husband. Had gained a love. And nearly lost him to a silent heart attack. My posts that they’ve been reading together helped them to see how life can change in an instant. They are working together to create a new life, new adventures, in a new direction. They asked me to please keep doing what I’m doing. It made me cry. God knows our hearts. He hears our pleas. And he sends us answers if we’ll just slow down and listen and pay attention.

After reading that, another message popped up. It was from the woman who wrote to me two weeks ago seeking that quote and the article was published yesterday. I read down through the stories of all the people she had quoted and realized two of them I am connected with on Twitter. I’ll connect with the others now.

Grief is a solitary business yet it thrusts us into a community of others going through similar experiences. The biggest point I made in my story for the article was this…you are not alone. No matter how hard grief is. No matter how isolating it is. No matter how crazy and lonely and forgetful it makes you…you are never truly alone. For me…I have Jesus and my family and you guys.

I’m not about to quit on that.

You can read the collection of stories here: https://www.aklander.co.uk/news/why-blogging-can-help-with-grief

❤️

“For that reason, I don’t run just for exercise or box like one throwing aimless punches, but I train like a champion athlete. I subdue my body and get it under my control, so that after preaching the good news to others I myself won’t be disqualified.”
1 Corinthians 9:26-27 TPT

Severe Weather

Thu, 30 May 2019 01:30:57 -0600

“Severe weather, volunteer pumpkins, a more mowing…another day on the Ponderosa.”

As with most of you, I browsed the news yesterday morning and saw the destruction from the many severe storms throughout the Midwest. I know people there…I was praying for them all. I knew we were supposed to get some rain yesterday, but I didn’t know how severe the storm was going to be.

I went to Schoolhouse Quilts around lunchtime to pick up my daughter’s wedding quilt. I need to sew the binding and then it will be finished. I was finishing my coffee while I visited with Carolyn, the owner. My phone rang. It was Mr. FixIt telling me to look at the radar…we were about to get hit hard.

I wrapped it up quickly, paid for the quilting, and ran to the truck just as the rain started. We live in a really small town. A grocery store, a Dollar General, the quilt shop, a pizza place, a gas station, the thrift store, and a couple of churches. That’s about it. It didn’t take long to drive to “the other side of town”.

I was about to the Piggly Wiggly when the lightning started striking all around me. I could see it hitting the hillside in front of me. I saw the flashes out of my peripheral vision…on both sides. I quickly turned into the parking lot, but it was raining too hard and the lightening was coming hard and fast. I couldn’t even pull up close to the store. I think some other people had the same idea.

I pulled my phone out and opened the Weather Channel app. It has a very reliable radar. When I saw it, I understood what a “Severe Thunderstorm Warning” looked like while it was happening. The notice at the top of the screen said “Lightning detected 0 miles north of you.” Yeah…no kidding!

I sent the screen shot to Mr. FixIt and told him where I was and I was going to sit this one out. Then I thought of the leaky basement and really wanted to get home. I closed my eyes and prayed hard. I told Jesus I knew he had calmed the seas when the storm was raging and I trust that He gives us that same power. I told the storm, in Jesus’ name, to break away and part the sky so I could get home safely.

Less that one minute later…the clouds parted. And even though the radar still showed lightning activity…there was nothing near me. I was home in less than two minutes. These are the things that amaze me. Not because I doubt they can be done. They can. I see it all the time. But it amazes me that I would never have done something like that just a few years ago. I was the scientist. The skeptic. The unbeliever.

Coincidence? Maybe. But I’m telling you what I saw immediately after I prayed for it. It doesn’t make me special or important or better than anyone else. It just makes me believe more. The storms eventually moved out by afternoon. Mr. FixIt came home and I mowed the big field while he ran the weed eater and the push mower. We are due for more storms today so I am planning on sitting and working on my daughter’s quilt.

As I was out mowing around the burn pile, I noticed a large amount of green growth. I looked closer and there was a volunteer pumpkin vine growing from the ashes. I smiled. We burned that brush pile the week before our wedding. When the wedding was over, we used the pumpkins for Halloween decorations. Then, after the first freeze and they got soggy, Mr. FixIt threw them on the brush pile. That’s what I love about WV. You can throw a seed out there and it can grow all on its own.

Same with love.

❤️

““Teacher,” said John, “we saw someone driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us.” “Do not stop him,” Jesus said. “For no one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us.” Mark 9:38-40 NIV

Gracious Conversations

Wed, 29 May 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“Let your conversations be gracious and attractive.”

I have been trying to be more conscious of my conversations of late. I try to steer clear of gossip…listening or repeating. I try to discern the difference between sharing concern or inquiring of someone’s wellbeing and telling tales out of school. I have to be honest…I haven’t always done the best at that.

I’m a storyteller, but I don’t want to be known as a gossip. So when I have conversations with others, I seek to be gracious. I do have my closest confidants with whom I can be brutally honest, but still be gracious.

It is especially difficult to be gracious in today’s sociopolitical climate. People can be truly offensive without necessarily intending to be. And, the same goes for us. We can easily offend others without being aware of it.

Social media is an excellent place to practice gracious conversation, but it isn’t always easy. I am a co-administrator for our class page on Facebook. I asked that someone be made co-administrator simply because we are aging. So many of our friends were dying, I thought if we lost our administrator, we’d lose control of the page and it’s really wonderful to catch up with our friends there.

I received a message from one of my classmates yesterday informing me someone had placed one of those political articles of questionable origin on our class page. She was gracious and expressed her dismay that something so obviously intended to be divisive had been posted there and would I please remove it.

I went to the page and didn’t do anything more than read the headlines and immediately removed the post. Then, I created a post of my own and said I had removed a political post. I reminded our classmates that there are plenty of pages that support those kinds of posts and it didn’t matter to me whose side it was on…it was not appropriate for our class page.

I reminded them we are only “Big Reds” when we are on that page. It’s intended to keep our classmates informed of upcoming events. All too often these days it is where we inform the class that someone has died. It’s a wonderful place to reconnect with old friends we haven’t seen or heard from…sometimes since graduation.

We can stop the political diatribe from amping up by being gracious in our conversations. And, when that doesn’t work, we can disconnect and/or turn a deaf ear to the offender. Just because someone is baiting us, doesn’t mean we need to bite. I wish it were so simple always. I know it’s not. But it felt good to say, “Look, we’ll have none of that here.”

I was camping with a group of women a couple of years ago. Someone went on a rant about politics AND religion…in the SAME conversation. They were making disparaging comments about Jesus. Our hostess stopped her cold by saying, “I love the Lord, and I will not sit here and listen to any such talk. Let’s change the subject, please.” Simple, honest, gracious, and to the point. The subject changed and that was the end of it. I was very proud. And emboldened to have my own gracious conversations.

Practicing grace and kindness elevates our spirits. It lifts us above the ugliness that can creep in. Go out and practice gracious conversations this week. See what a difference it makes in your stress level.

❤️

“let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance—” Proverbs 1:5 NIV

Praying for Others

Tue, 28 May 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“Praying for others is the key to freedom.”

As time passes, my daughter’s wedding is looming in the forefront of my mind. What to wear? Well, I’ve bought three dresses…so far. It depends what suits me that day, I think. The event seems to be fast and loose so I’m not terribly worried about that part.

As I headed into this, the idea of being the mother of the bride…for the last time really…filled me with delicious anticipation mixed with bits of trepidation. Her father and I have mended a lot of fences over the years and I am so proud of the way we can demonstrate good behaviors for our kids and grandkids. Long gone are the angry jabs at each other over a love gone awry.

I overcame the majority of the pain, anger, and resentment through fervent prayer and good therapy. Prayer was my tool. I prayed my family would be healed. I prayed the father of my child would find joy and happiness with the woman he chose. The more I prayed for HIM, the happier I became.

That being said, the enemy loves to sneak in and tell me lies. He loves to remind me I’ve gained a few pounds and my ex-husband will notice. He loves to make me second guess myself and be self conscious of my body and my dress choice. He loves to whisper in my ear and tell me if I would have been a better wife, that great big estate my ex owns could have been mine.

Lies. They are all lies. I could have been the best wife in the history of the universe and the marriage could have still fallen apart. I’m not taking 100% of that one. I’ll comfortably accept my 50%. If I even consider my weight as being something my ex would judge me for, I’m setting myself up for failure and disappointment.

Here’s the thing…if we look for something, we WILL find it. If I look for judgement, I’ll feel judged. If I look for criticism, I’ll feel criticized…even if it’s subconsciously. And, as soon as I feel those things, I’ll react defensively. That whole scenario is a totally no win situation. Nothing good can come from that.

Recently I read about a technique for recognizing the cycle of anxiety and stopping it in its tracks. The premise is, as soon as you feel the very first sensations of anxiety…even if it’s just the thought of feeling anxious…you pull back and become the observer. Recognize what is happening and say to yourself…”Hmmmm, that’s interesting. I’m having a feeling that stemmed from a thought. It is just a thought.” Then, you picture surrounding that thought in a bubble, reach out, and poke it with your finger.

Poof!

When you can recognize what anxiety really is, it’s much easier to step back, give it a poke, and send it on it’s way. It has been working quite well in the last few months. One would think, at the ripe age of 66 (in about three weeks), I’d have gotten a handle on anxiety long before now. Sometimes it’s the fear of having an anxiety attack that brings it on. It’s crazy…but it’s quite real.

This wedding isn’t about me. His house isn’t about me. My weight isn’t even completely about me in that it was caused by taking steroids twice this year. I’m the only me I have. I am the only mom my kids have. The only Nana for my grands. I am my husband’s queen. He will think I am scrumptious no matter what I’m wearing or where I sit.

This is such a relief…to let go of fear. The fear of rejection. The fear of not being good enough. The fear of doing or saying something wrong.

I am enough. I have always been enough.

Dang…I love my sixties!

❤️

“But the moment one turns to the Lord with an open heart, the veil is lifted and they see. Now, the “Lord” I’m referring to is the Holy Spirit, and wherever he is Lord, there is freedom.”
2 Corinthians 3:16-17 TPT

Smoke

Sun, 26 May 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Life has a certain synchronicity. It swirls round and round like wisps of smoke.”

Mail delivery is different when you live on a rural route. When you drive out any two lane blacktop, there are dirt roads that go off up into hollers. There may be a dozen or more houses up there, but it wouldn’t be feasible to send a mail carrier up every little dirt track. So, you often see a whole row of mailboxes on the corner and everyone has to pick up their own mail. Our mailbox is across the two lane from the Ponderosa so we either walk up or stop on our way out when we go somewhere.

When I first moved in with Mr. FixIt, I seldom got any mail here. I have a post office box that I use for my business so it was just easier for me to get all my mail there. Because the majority of the mail was his, I never really saw it unless I picked it up. Mr. FixIt was throwing away junk mail one day and casually remarked, for some reason he had received coupons for cigarettes. He couldn’t figure out how in the world he ever got on their mailing list.

We went into town yesterday to decorate graves on Mr. FixIt’s side of the family. We stopped to get the mail and there was another cigarette advertisement. He handed me the mail and said, “See? We got it again!” I sat there, holding the mail in my hands. For a moment, my heart skipped a beat and I could barely breathe.

“Is this the brand you got before?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s always the same.”

I ran my fingers over the familiar green box and smiled. Kools.

“You know…this is Mr. Virgo’s brand.”

“Whoa. That’s weird.”

“No…not weird. It’s just a message. A sort of hello from beyond.”

I don’t know how things work on the other side exactly. I know there is heaven. And I know the Bible says there is a veil between the worlds and those in heaven cannot see or connect with their loved ones on earth. I also know God loves us and wants to comfort our hearts when we lose loved ones so He sends us things that strike a chord with us. In my case…bluebirds. A particular song that’s out of place. Flickering lights. And, an ad. Of all the cigarette brands that are out there, the one that came was Mr. Virgo’s. It’s not even what I would consider a top brand. Why that one? On Memorial Day weekend?

I reached over and took my husband’s hand. I smiled and looked out the window at the passing scenery. I marveled at this lovely life and all its synchronicity…curling round and round like wisps of smoke.

“Hello, Mr. Virgo” I said softly. “Thanks for coming to see us.”

❤️

“Now they know that everything that you have given me is from you.”
John 17:7 ESV

Wascally Wabbits!

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

“Mr. FixIt…working in the garden.”

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

“Something ate the beans.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

❤️

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

A Lovely Summer Evening

Mon, 20 May 2019 01:30:50 -0600

“Spring? It’s more like summer here in West Virginia!”

Ok…it’s not officially summer for another month. But the temperature on the truck was 93 yesterday afternoon so that is close enough for me! Mr. FixIt and I camped in the yard beside the big building Saturday night and it was wonderful. The windows were open and a small fan on low kept us very comfortable. The mattress in the camper is better than any in the house and it’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a week. The climb-over-you bed configuration wasn’t a problem so I think we’re a go for the big Colorado trip later this summer.

Church was wonderful…again. As I stood there, holding Mr. FixIt’s hand, praising with the other…I counted my blessings as I counted my bonus family down the pew. Afterwards was breakfast out and catching up with what’s going on in their busy lives. (They thought it was very funny that their grandpa and I camped in the yard. He does lots of new things since I came along!)

We delivered a saw to his son and checked out the deck they are rebuilding. Then we headed home. I had a deadline to meet on this new writing project I’m involved with so I climbed in my little camper, turned on the AC, and got busy. In the meantime, someone came to look at the camper we are selling. When we were both finished, we did that very fun thing we love to do…we took a drive and stopped for ice cream!

As we walked back in, the light was perfect on our peonies just outside the back door so I had to stop and snap a picture. It was the perfect summation of the day…soft and sweet, warm and blessed. As I write this, I am again in the little camper, the windows flung open, the frogs peeping in the creek beyond the far field. What a rich and lovely life we lead!

❤️

“The season has changed, the bondage of your barren winter has ended, and the season of hiding is over and gone. The rains have soaked the earth and left it bright with blossoming flowers. The season for singing and pruning the vines has arrived. I hear the cooing of doves in our land, filling the air with songs to awaken you and guide you forth.” Song of Songs 2:11-12 TPT

Farm Life is a Good Life

Fri, 17 May 2019 01:30:58 -0600

“Clockwise from top left: Grandma’s peonies, a row of tiger swallowtails, the peonies out by the road, bearded iris alongside the house, the view from the road, tiger swallowtail up close”

As I was washing the breakfast dishes yesterday, something outside the kitchen window caught my eye. I stood quietly and studied the branches in the cedar and maple trees that frame my view of the yard. Suddenly, I saw it again. A fledgling house wren just took it’s first tentative flight from the nest. It snuggled in amongst the leaves, trying not to draw attention to itself. Mama came flying down and sat beside her brave baby. Soon, she swooped down to the grass and picked up a bug and brought it back to the little one. And so begins the feeding and teaching till this little fellow can survive on his own.

I smiled as I dried my hands and set to my morning chores. Mr. FixIt would be home soon and I needed to get things together to go out to the farm. I packed a couple of bags and gathered the laundry to do while we were out there. I took my morning coffee out on the deck by the pool. Then I wandered over to the garden. I sprinkled the plants with rabbit repellent. I caught sight of a chipmunk darting around the corner of the big building out back and wondered if the repellent works for them, too.

When Mr. FixIt got home, I helped him get the riding mower and the push mower on the utility trailer. Why we didn’t think of doing this two years ago, I’ll never know!

When we got to the farm, we unloaded the mowers and I hopped on the riding mower. If you remember correctly, when I was mowing the farm by myself it took me a good five hours. I had to mow thirty minutes then cool off and rehydrate…over and over till I was done. I literally finished mowing in less than fifteen minutes with the riding mower! Mr. FixIt took the push mower and mowed the ditches out front and the perimeter of the yard. The edges of the lawn are too soft to use the riding mower. It could collapse the creek bank and take me with it.

When we were finished, I cooked a good supper of pork chops, lima beans, and Amish potato salad. We sat down to watch the news and there it was…bad storms coming. We were prepared to stay a night or two, but until we fix that drain at the bottom of the steps, we have to be at the Ponderosa if there is a threat of heavy rain or else we’ll have a flooded basement.

I washed the dishes and was getting things ready to head back home when Mr. FixIt called to me to bring my phone outside. There, on the driveway, were six or seven tiger swallowtail butterflies, intently feeding on something. I have no idea what. When I startled them at one point, they rose up and circled around and around us for several minutes in a dazzling butterfly dance. Then, just as quickly, they settled back down in the same spot. It was magical and went on for forty-five minutes or so.

We finally had to say goodbye to the butterflies and head back to the Ponderosa. Sometimes farm life is a hard life. But, it’s really a good life.

❤️

“May God give you heaven’s dew and earth’s richness— an abundance of grain and new wine.” Genesis 27:28 NIV

Wednesday Evening Walkabout

Thu, 16 May 2019 01:30:23 -0600

“Clockwise from Top Left: Abundant Blueberries, Honey Locust, Wild Grape Vine, Beautiful Peonies”

I finished mowing at the Ponderosa while Mr. FixIt was in town working on a porch he’s building. There were several areas around the edges of the fields where brush, vines and trees had encroached into my mowing space. They are the worst when they hang over and I have to try to mow under them. I bend way far forward over the riding mower, but sometimes a briar will jump out and grab me. So, last night after supper, I did my walkabout and took the loppers with me. I pruned back a lot of branches and threw them into the woods for the critters to munch on and hide in.

I finished the back property line before I gave up for the evening. I love how the fields look when they’re freshly mowed. They smell so good and they are all smooth and even. I snapped a few pictures as I moseyed around looking at the many varieties of trees in the woods beyond the far fields. I love this time of year. The dense foliage makes the shadowy underbrush dark and a cool breeze comes out smelling of musty earth and moldy leaves. It’s a rich aroma of sweet decay combined with cut grass, honey locust, and creek water. It’s heavenly, earthy, decadent. It makes me happy.

Once my tools were put away, I climbed in the little camper, snuggled back into my favorite corner and looked out at the sun setting over the far hill. The reflections of the puffy white clouds and bluebird sky on the windshield of my truck added movement and color to the scene. These are my tranquil moments. It’s MY time. Mr. FixIt is in his recliner inside, watching the news. We both worked hard today. It makes the evenings such a gift.

We are blessed beyond belief. We have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and love in our hearts. We have a wonderful family. We have our health. We have each other. As I was walking around the field last night, a bluebird dashed in front of me and I smiled.

“Well…hello there, Mr. Virgo. I’m doing just fine!”

❤️

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NIV

A Quiet Place

Wed, 15 May 2019 01:30:15 -0600

“Living in a quiet place fills me with peace and gratitude.”

Mr. FixIt had to go help his friend move some things in town yesterday so I hung out at home and “pretend camped”. I piddled around in the camper most of the day. I cleaned up and put things away. I swept and washed the floors and emptied the trash. I wiped things down and stripped the bed. While I was taking off the comforter, I noticed it was damp up by the front wall towards the driver’s side. A leak!

It didn’t leak when I was parked at the campground and we had some pretty heavy rain. This leak came when I was driving through torrential rain on Monday so it has to be either around the window or something at the edge. I happily discovered the bed raises up with pneumatic lifters so I could get under there and have a good look. There were no wet places on the flooring under the bed or in any of the compartments. So I’ll have to look some more.

While I was in under the bed, I got a good look at the water system. Mr. FixIt helped me and we could not figure out why the pump won’t build up pressure and shut off. Again…more investigation is needed. In the meantime, if I can flush the commode and wash my hands and the dishes, I’m not too concerned about the rest of it. Just about every place I plan to camp will have electric and if it’s cold, I have either the electric blanket or the little space heater to keep me warm.

When Mr. FixIt got home, he staked up the tomatoes. Something happened to one of the plants. It’s just gone. The rest look good though. And the beans are coming up much better than last year. I still have a bunch of food in the refrigerator in the camper so I fixed us some supper and we sat at the dinette and ate. That made me smile.

After supper, we went for a quick walk down the road. There’s been some activity on the property next door so we moseyed over to see what’s going on. They are clearing the lot so maybe we’re getting neighbors. We don’t have neighbors within sight of the house so this is something very new for Mr. FixIt. He’s lived here over 40 years.

When we were walking back down the road, holding hands, I looked out over our field and smiled. All of my life I’ve wanted to live on five acres. And here we are! I looked around and thought of all the things I would have liked to have on these five acres over the years. A barn with maybe some animals…a cow for milk and butter, some chickens, maybe a couple of goats or sheep. A big garden. Some fruit trees. I sure would have done more with this than five acres of lawn to mow. And now?

I never say it’s too late to do something. But my priorities have changed. We like to travel and we’re going to be too old before too long to maintain that level of farming. No…we’re looking at simplifying now. But it’s nice to dream about what we might have done, had we been together when we were younger.

This is our little slice of heaven, and so is the farm. When we got back from our walk, I jumped on the riding mower and mowed till it was almost too dark to see. I watched Mr. FixIt with the push mower in the fenced yard. I watched how the mower took the curves of the field and turned them into the swirly rows of a contemporary quilt. I watch the old yellow cat sitting at the edge of the field, eyeing me to see if I was going to sacrifice another turtle for him. Thankfully, I did not. I noticed the petals of the poplar blooms fallen as I mowed over them. I watched the robins swoop in to get the bugs the mower stirred up. I took a deep breath of new mown grass. And…I smiled.

❤️

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19 NIV

Camp Hair...Don’t Care!

Mon, 13 May 2019 01:30:38 -0600

“Images from camp…The Three Amigas (Gail, Janine, & Ginny), fishing, TOW-Wanda III, and ramp casserole in an iron skillet.”

OMGosh! Other than not having subzero temperatures, this week has been quite reminiscent of my first winter in TOW-Wanda Grande. I was parked up on the banks of the Ohio River with no running water. This state park has a few electric sites and I was lucky enough to get one. But, there’s no water at the sites. I had to rely on the freshwater tank for flushing the toilet and bottled water for drinking. Since I don’t have the propane system or the water heater checked out yet, I had to heat up water in the microwave or running it through the coffee pot for washing dishes or taking sponge baths. I am really looking forward to a proper shower when I get home today. I definitely have camp hair. And I definitely don’t care!

Everyone left yesterday and headed home. All except for me, that is. I already had last night reserved thinking at least someone would stay over. That’s ok, though. I used the day to do some writing I have a deadline for. Then I did a little knitting and watched old Andy Griffith reruns. All the kids either texted or called me for Mother’s Day which was so nice. Gail came back to the campground after dinner and brought me some homemade cream of broccoli soup. It was a really good day.

Gail and I are cohosting a Girl Camper event next month at Blackwater Falls so now I can turn my attention to that. I ordered a floral canopy with matching chairs to set up at that outing to give people a place to sit when they come to visit. When you have a campout with a group of Girl Campers, everyone wants to see inside each other’s trailers so we usually have a little snack out or a cocktail to share with guests.

The gal who camped right across from me this time had her little camper all decked out on the inside like a vintage one, but it was brand new. She used her grandmother’s quilt to cover the seat cushions and had her mother’s 25th anniversary silver tea set on display. She made banners for each window from embroidered linens. It was absolutely darling. When her husband peeked in to see what she had done to the inside he said, “Really? Really??? You had to do all PINK?” She created a grey interior for him and switches it out. That seems like a lot of work to me, but as long as the hubs is happy.

So, today I pack it up and head home. I can’t wait to see my Mr. FixIt and give him a squeeze. He sent me a picture of the garden and the beans are all up. He’s been spreading the rabbit repellent and so far, so good! They haven’t eaten any of the young plants.

Hope you have a Happy Monday!

❤️

““All who are skilled among you are to come and make everything the Lord has commanded:” Exodus 35:10 NIV

What a Hoot!!!

Sun, 12 May 2019 01:30:56 -0600

“Coffee in the camper…my favorite thing about camping!”

The Girl Campers have been meeting at Beaver Creek State Park for the last three years or so. Some come for a day or two. Some come for a full week of fun. Gail is our Hostess Extraordinaire. Janine, our fearless leader and “Camper in Chief” is here with her Mister and anytime the three of us get together…it’s the Three Amigas. A good time is always to be had when we gather around the campfire.

“Janine loved her socks!”

We have a Spring and a Fall “What a Hoot” event. Where did we get that name, you ask? We get to listen to the owls! We cannot call them in the spring because they are on the nest. But in the fall, we can play their calls over a speaker and call them in close so we can hear them. It’s beautiful.

“The blossom of the pawpaw tree. Isn’t it beautiful?”

The park naturalist came again yesterday. He took some of the campers on a guided nature walk and identified several varieties of wildflowers. Then later in the afternoon, we went fishing. One of our gals caught a good sized catfish on her second cast. I casted fifty times and didn’t catch a thing but I had fun!

“Sherri caught a catfish on her second cast!”

I finished knitting the socks I was working on. Janine has been marveling over them for a year. That’s how long it took me to knit them! So, I gifted them to her and she was so tickled.

“Some of the girls made camping journals to keep as a memento from their trip.”

Dinner last night was a smorgasbord of soups and fresh fruit. Bourbon Brownie S’mores for dessert! I didn’t have the ones with bourbon…I had mine plain. But they were gooey and decadent. Today, I get back on my diet!

I hope you enjoy the photos! I’ll be heading back to the Ponderosa tomorrow!

Oh, and…it’s Mother’s Day. Moms come in all shapes and sizes and descriptions. Some of us are moms. Some of us chose not to be. Some wanted to be and couldn’t. Some were…and lost their babies in one way or another. Some lost their relationships in some way. A lot of us have lost our moms by the time we get to be my age. And, some are fortunate to yet have theirs. The bottom line is…no matter what state you are in….it’s Mother’s Day. I hope it is a good day for you and yours…even if there are tears.

I miss my mom…my grandma…and my “other mother”, Louisa. I’ll see you all some fine day.

And, I miss my girls. I’ll see them soon!

❤️

“Adam named his wife Eve, because she would become the mother of all the living.” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3:20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My View

Fri, 10 May 2019 01:30:03 -0600

“Oh, how I have missed the big picture window over the bed!”

The thing I have missed the most since I bought TOW-Wanda Grande was the window over the bed. Propping up on pillows with a cup of coffee in the morning and looking out on the sunrise is priceless. And now, I have that back. The other things are the windows at the head and foot of my bed. The windows in TOW-Wanda Grande don’t open very wide and you really don’t get a good breeze. I love having that window open over my head and feeling the cool evening breeze wash over me. It’s also nice to hear the night sounds of frogs and crickets and whatever fauna is lurking around in the dark.

The more I stay in this little camper, the more I absolutely love it. I did have a little problem. I noticed a trail of little black ants making their way up to the cabinet over the refrigerator on Wednesday night. By yesterday morning, there was an army. I opened the cabinet and took all the food out and discovered they had found an open packet of Club Crackers in a box. How can they find this stuff?

I pulled everything out and sprayed with a botanical ant killer and they were soon gone. It seems ants have been terrible this year everywhere. We are having a huge problem with them at the Ponderosa.

Other than that, and the bed being a tad bit firm for my liking, my heart just sings in this little tiny, tiny home on wheels.

More girls are arriving daily and I believe all should be here by this evening. We have been knitting and talking and eating and napping. Oh, and having campfires. Gail has this new thing she bought called the SoloStove. It looked similar to the tub out of a washing machine and when you burn wood, it doesn’t smoke. You can still smell a wood fire, but just enough that it’s pleasant and it doesn’t choke the life out of you. Life doesn’t get much better than that!

❤️

“A friend loves at all times...” Proverbs 17:17 NIV

Rainy Days

Sun, 05 May 2019 01:30:13 -0600

“Grandma’s rhododendron is starting to bloom out at the farm. I think it might have gotten a little nipped by the polar vortex this winter, but it sure loves these rainy days!”

It has been rainy in West Virginia the last couple of days. We’ve even had some thunderstorms, which I dearly love. I remember really missing them when I lived in Colorado. The thunder doesn’t roll there like it does here. The rain held off till Mr. FixIt and I were finished changing the oil in both trucks. I sat on the mechanic’s stool, looking up at the sky when it started to sprinkle and asked God to please hold off for an hour or so. He was so gracious to do so. Thank you.

I was very disappointed. We had everything set up. I got the truck up on the ramps with Mr. FixIt’s guidance, and I got down under the engine and set to work. Try as I might, I simply could NOT loosen the plug in the oil pan. I couldn’t get in a good position to get leverage. The battery pack for the headlamp sat on the back of my head wrong and kept getting in my way. And for some reason, I didn’t like the feeling of that truck over my chest on the plastic ramps Mr. FixIt has. His metal ones were stolen and I just didn’t trust plastic to hold that truck up off me. It gave me the heeby-jeebies.

Mr. FixIt took my place and, with some difficulty, finally got the plug out. I got BACK under the truck and tried to loosen the oil filter and it wouldn’t budge. I hated to admit defeat, but i just don’t have the arm, wrist, and hand strength I used to have. I climbed back out and sat on the stool handing Mr. FixIt what he needed, when he needed it. When he was finished, I held the funnel while he poured the oil in.

“I’m sorry.” I said, dejectedly. “I just couldn’t do it.”

Mr. FixIt looked at me with soft eyes and said, “That’s ok, baby. That’s what husbands are for.”

For one second, the feminist reared up in my head…then I stopped. I looked at this kind, gentle, yet strong man and said…

“Service. That’s your love language, isn’t it?”

He smiled and went back to the task at hand. I didn’t even offer to try helping him when we got his truck up on the ramps. We just chatted as he told me stories or pointed out the differences between the two trucks and their filters. I sat on the stool, smiling and sending up a big “Thank You” for my many, many blessings.

❤️?❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17 NIV

I Choose Joy!

Tue, 30 Apr 2019 01:30:27 -0600

“I’m choosing joy by choosing to remember the special moments we spent at the seashore last week.”

Even though Pastor Justin’s message Sunday morning was about choosing joy, I just had one of my “bad nights”. Yesterday’s post indicated I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I did. Re-entry from vacation was part of it. Being overly tired was another. And, after being gone a week, there was a lot of catching up to do and we just heard one bad thing after another all day. It just hit me hard. Combine that with eating a greasy burger too late in the evening and I was up half the night.

I tried all my go-to remedies and nothing seemed to help. I was up pacing the floor. I tried snuggling with Mr. FixIt and that helped, but I was too hot. Finally, I took a Benadryl because I had been out mowing all afternoon and my head was throbbing. I settled into the guest room, opened the window to let the cool night air in, and read my Bible till I got drowsy. When I finally slept, it was sound and deep and restful…just what I asked God for in my nightly prayers. He is a good Father…His lullaby is perfect.

I hit the ground running yesterday and went for the MRI of my foot. I’ve had several MRI’s in my lifetime. I couldn’t believe it took a whole hour! It was an open MRI and, of course, the only thing in it was my foot. But the noises were the same. The technician turned up the music really loud and I listened to the country station for an hour. The only hard part was boredom thinking of all the things I could have been doing. Laying still on my back for an hour on a hard table wasn’t too much fun. I just used the time to have a conversation with God.

I needed to have fasting blood drawn from an appointment a couple of weeks ago and I kept forgetting to go in so I did that. Then I stopped at the mall and bought yet another dress for the wedding. I can’t seem to make up my mind but this one I really liked and it was 50% off. I can wear it to my niece’s college graduation this weekend and see how I like it. I even found some cute little sandals that were also half price. I’m not buying any more dresses!

My last stop was Walmart for new sheets for the camper. I’m not one for keeping a lot of old sheets around. I buy two pair and rotate them till they’re worn out. I’ll bet I could count on two hands how many sets of sheets I’ve had in my life. Funny thing…they are exactly the same pattern as the sheets I bought for the big camper five years ago. I would have used those, but they were full size and the new camper ya s a queen bed. I also picked up a couple of throw rugs and a new shower curtain. Everything else will get moved from the old camper to the new one.

Before we leave, I need to treat the fresh water tank with a mild bleach solution and run it through the pipes. Then I need to put some Dawn dish soap, Calgon Water Softener, more water, and a bag of ice in the black tank and take the camper for a drive to let it all slosh around in the tank and dislodge anything gunking up the works. I will drive up to a rest area up north and empty the tanks and get them all ready for Thursday. Once I get back home, I’ll make the beds and wipe down the surfaces. I’ll wipe out the fridge and the cabinets and wash the floors. Once the bathroom is cleaned, I can put down the new rugs. I’ll pack it up and we’ll be ready to go!

So…today I choose joy. Even in the busy rush of life and travel preparation. Just breathe. Just breathe.

❤️

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.” Psalm 94:19 NIV

Oh...Oh...OBX!

Fri, 26 Apr 2019 01:30:47 -0600

“Is there anything better than spending time with loved ones?”

This has been the BEST week! The weather has been amazing. The company SO much fun. And the food has been divine. The only thing that could have made it better would be if ALL the family could be here.

We started out with a hearty breakfast. I had a box of matzoh leftover from the Seder demonstration at church group the other night and brought it along. My very favorite Passover breakfast is Matzoh Brei. You take the sheets of matzoh and crumble them up. Pour enough hot water over them to cover them and let them sit for a while. Then you squeeze the water out of them and place the wet matzoh in another bowl. Beat three or four eggs with some cinnamon, a dash of salt, and a little vanilla extract together then pour it over the wet matzoh and stir till you get a thick batter. Drop 3/4 of a cup of the thick batter on a hot oiled griddle and cook till browned and set in the middle. Serve with butter and syrup like pancakes. Yummm!

We all gathered our things and headed to the beach. Sue and I walked for a while and the guys fished. Mr. FixIt let me cast for him once. We got out the umbrellas and sat for a long time watching a school of dolphins playing in the surf not too far from the shore. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any cooler, we saw the blowing mist from a small humpback whale that breached and showed his beautiful tail fin as he dove back into the sea. OMGosh! That was SO exciting. The guys never got a nibble while we were there so Sue and I decided to head to the indoor pool and exercise. We did some stretches and water aerobics moves till we were tuckered out and headed for the condo.

After our showers, the boys come in with stories and pictures of all the fish they caught AFTER we left! Skates, shark, drum, croaker…they were busy but as always, practiced catch and release. It is the sport that is fun…not the killing.

Once we were all cleaned up, Mr. FixIt hunted up a restaurant that served scallops as that is Ben’s all-time favorite. We discovered Henry’s in Kill Devil Hills and it did not disappoint! I had the best coconut shrimp. Sue had a blackened tuna steak and the boys both had scallops. The hush puppies were really good. We were all too stuffed to order a rich dessert. We stopped at the Ben Franklin store for souvenirs for the grandchildren and Walmart for milk and we were done for the day!

As Sue and I were splashing around in the pool in the afternoon, I shared a concern that’s been bugging me just a little. My younger daughter is getting married in August and I am heavier than I wanted to be. I still have some time to lose weight, but that’s not the point. I’m self-conscious because my ex-husband will see me as fat. It’s ridiculous that I should even let that thought in, but there it sits. Sue has known me through thick and thin since my older daughter started dating her older son. We talked about it as we bounced around in the water with our ample sixty-something tummies and laughed at how silly we can still be, even when we KNOW it doesn’t mean diddly squat what others (ESPECIALLY ex-husbands) think! We talked about dressing strategies and letting go of the rest.

This has been an excellent week for me…just what I needed. A week of fun and sun, sand and surf, and lots of love. My best champions are with me this week and I feel surrounded by their love and care. As Ben & Sue head off to the airport tomorrow, Mr. FixIt and I will drive home to the Ponderosa for a few days of mowing before we pack up the new camper and head out on her maiden voyage to Indiana!

My heart is so full!

❤️

“Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.”
Colossians 3:15 NIV

Service, Sunshine, and Seafood

Mon, 22 Apr 2019 01:30:32 -0600

“Low Country Shrimp and Grits”

We enjoyed our Easter service at the United Methodist Church across the road from our timeshare. We attended the contemporary services and the music was very nice. The sermon was thought provoking. And it was fun to go to a Southern church and see folks in their Easter dresses. The children enjoyed a demonstration up front with the Pastor before the services began. The church itself was lovely with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Curratuck Sound.

Afterwards, we drove around and found a restaurant that was open and had a seafood extravaganza and ate till they had to roll us home. I had the Low Country Shrimp and Grits. Yummmmmm. We came back to the condo and some napped while others walked or made phone calls. We were all still too full to eat dinner but we did finally polish off the apple pie we started Saturday night.

It was a lovely, lazy, family day sharing stories and photos. Today, we are tourists!

❤️

“The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.””
Mark 6:30-31 NIV

Good Friday

Fri, 19 Apr 2019 01:30:21 -0600

“My grandma’s pretty posies…I love to visit them.”

I ran to the farm yesterday to pick up my laundry I left hanging to dry. I took a quick walkabout to see Grandma’s posies. She loved them so much and I always feel so close to her when I see them.

Grandma loved Easter time. Her flowers were beautiful and she almost always had all of her family together to go to church. I feel terrible that I won’t be attending church with the kids this weekend, but there is a church right across the road from the condo so we will still get to go to an Easter service.

The bags are packed. Going to the time share is much like camping…we take extra linens and pots and pans because the one’s there are somewhat lacking in substance. We also bring some dry goods with us because groceries down there are so expensive. So, the truck will be packed first thing in the morning and we’ll hit the road no later than 9:00.

Small group last night was wonderful. I talked to the girls about Passover and the rituals around the Seder meal. I brought some traditional foods for them to taste. They weren’t crazy about the gefilte fish!

Kathy spoke about Easter. She told how Jesus washed the feet of the Disciples. Then, she prepared a basin and pitcher of warm water and washed all of our feet. It was a humbling experience. When she was done, I stepped forward and invited her to sit so that I could wash hers. I followed her example and told her the beautiful attributes Jesus sees when He looks at her. I thanked her for being such a shining example of a humble servant for all of us to see. And I told her how much I dearly love her.

What a wonderful way to start out our week!

❤️

“It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean. When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” John 13:1-17 NIV

The Beloved Eastern Redbud

Thu, 18 Apr 2019 01:30:18 -0600

“I couldn’t get a good photo driving today, so I found this one through Google. This is what the redbud trees look like with the fresh, spring green of new growth. Stunning!”

I think I would be hard-pressed to choose just one singular thing that I love the most about West Virginia. There are so many things to choose from…my grandparents’ farm, the lush green woods, the beautiful Ohio River, the sounds of peepers and the numerous birds including whip-poor-wills and owls and mockingbirds. They are all so incredibly beautiful. But, if I had to choose just one thing, it would be the redbud trees in the spring.

These purply-pink flowering trees burst forth in early April bringing breathtaking views around every bend. They tend to stick close to roadways and the stunning shock of pink against the bright spring green of the new growth makes me catch my breath and utter oohs and aahs like watching the Fourth of July Fireworks. They are at their peak this week and I am sure we will have quite the show on our drive south on Friday.

We are both SO looking forward to getting away. We finished the first big mow of the season yesterday and we are so sore we can hardly move. By having the far field brush hogged, our mowed acreage has increased to six acres at the Ponderosa. For those who don’t know, a brush hog is a powerful mower you pull behind a tractor. It cuts down grass much like cutting hay and if you want to return the field to regular mowing, you have to keep after it. However, it isn’t easy mowing. The ground in uneven and choppy and you about lose the fillings in your teeth when you run over it with the riding mower. It will take a while for the grass that grows to look more like a lawn and less like a pasture.

The roughness of mowing, as well as it being our first cutting of the season, has my shoulders, neck and arms screaming. Not even a hot bath could help. Hopefully sleep and NSAIDs will do the trick.

My appointment at the orthopedist went well. He wants to do an MRI of my foot to check for stress fractures. That will be done as soon as we get back from the beach. Today will be spent packing during the day. This evening, I will be reading the Passover Haggadah to my small group from church. I love remembering the Jewish holidays.

❤️

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters,” Colossians 3:23 NIV

Hummers!

Mon, 15 Apr 2019 01:30:16 -0600

“The hummingbirds are back!”

They’re baaaaaaack! I was stretched out in TOW-Wanda, relishing my very satisfying afternoon nap, when I turned over and gazed out this great big, beautiful front window at the stunning pink flowers on the shrub nearby. That’s when I saw her…a lovely iridescent hummingbird, hovering around the heady floral aroma…getting some much needed nourishment from her migration. My heart leapt for joy! I do so love this time of year…the day I get the taxes done for another year!

This time…I promise…THIS time I will keep my records straight. I will make sure enough is withheld for taxes. I will NOT put it off till the very last minute! I promise!

Yesterday was a coffee day for the girls from my class and it was such a beautiful day. So many of them couldn’t come for one reason or another and we missed them. Mr. FixIt came and met me at the local library and we sat down to get our taxes done. It went pretty fast because I had most everything completed the day before. We just tidied up loose ends and ended up filing jointly. It saved us some money.

When I finally hit “send” and the returns went flying through the wires on their way to the IRS, I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. I turned to Mr. FixIt and said, “Steak! Give me steak! And a baked potato! And broccoli!!! He grinned ear to ear. He was just as glad to have the taxes over so he could get his wife back instead of Godzilla!

We hit traffic coming through town. It was the Easter Parade! I haven’t been to one of those in decades. I rolled the window down and heard the high school marching band going by. I could see them through a parking lot as I sat in traffic. Children rushing for thrown candy. Balloons being carried through the crowds. And finally…the Easter Bunny. It made me realize…since my littles are either too far away, or too big, or too little for the Easter Bunny, I hadn’t even given the furry guy much thought, even with all the store displays. Today after church, we are taking our great granddaughter to the mall to see the furry guy himself. Then I can give the baby her book…Baby’s First Book of Bible Stories. We bought it for her Baby Dedication and forgot to bring it with us. And, we won’t be here for Easter…we’ll be at the beach. There is a church right across the street from out condo so we can still go to services.

The steak was fabulous. Then we went to the park to walk. I couldn’t walk more than half a mile with this painful foot. I have an appointment Wednesday with the Orthopedist to determine what’s going on. I think it’s a Morton’s Neuroma. Let’s lay odds if I’m right or not.

We got home and I fell asleep in the camper…I really LOVE having a window open right above my head! Beautiful, beautiful day!

❤️

“I know every bird in the mountains...” Psalm 50:11 NIV

Darkness into Light

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled.

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

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

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

❤️

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

Memory Recall

Thu, 11 Apr 2019 01:30:10 -0600

“Photos of childhood memories can bridge the miles between you and your children.”

Sometimes it’s hard to reach my kids, both literally and figuratively. They have busy lives. Jobs, families, houses…they don’t have a lot of time to visit with their mom. I get that. I was in their shoes. So, instead of whining about it and pulling more than a nominal guilt trip, I have taken to sending them pictures of things I find on Pinterest. Not just any old thing. Things that will stir a memory of their childhoods and make them smile whether they have time to talk or not.

One such photo was this one. It is identical to the kitchen we lived in when she was little and her daddy was in medical school. She remembered the sink, she said. But I know, if she remembered the sink, she thought of all the times I canned our food and baked our bread. She might have thought of the times we set up the tent in the backyard so she could have a sleepover. I’m sure she thought of the slumber party I let her have in the Vanagon camper with the pop top. We were still finding peanut M&M’s months later. Maybe she thought of the Christmas Eve Blizzard when we spent the day pushing people out of the ditch in front of the house. Or the time she rode her bike on the church parking lot down the street and almost put her eye out on a tree branch.

I miss being close to my kids. Maybe by this time, if I hadn’t have found Mr. FixIt, I might have been back there…or at least spend more time in Colorado. But, just as my girls have lives…so do I. I just have to make the most of the time I do have with them when I am there.

I spent yesterday at the farm again. I made great progress on the paperwork I’m doing. Tomorrow I can wrap it up and we can do our taxes and be done with it. I promise myself every year that I wont procrastinate next year…and here we are. Down to the wire yet again. Maybe next year!

❤️

“But everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way.” 1 Corinthians 14:40 NIV

Bad Night - Great Day

Wed, 10 Apr 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Resist the devil and he will flee.”

I remember back in the first two to three years of my grief, I often had what I referred to as “bad nights”. Nights were especially difficult from the beginning. Too many hours stretched ahead with too much time to think…especially since I had such a hard time sleeping. It didn’t take much to send my mind chasing rabbits and soon a thought would have me in a tailspin. I spent SO many nights alternating between gripping the mattress and throwing up. All. Night. Long. It was brutal.

Thankfully, that finally evened out. Partially from time and healing, but mostly because I got a grip on my anxiety once I learned it’s source. Some may call it a trick of the mind, but I have been much more successful in not only controlling my anxiety, but sending it packing altogether. Prayer and petition to God to come in and bring me comfort helps tremendously. One thing has really helped me and the old me would have rolled my eyes with a “Right…sure…ok.”

That one thing is banishing Satan. The enemy comes to rob, steal, and destroy. He is the force behind the thoughts “You can’t handle anything.” “You will always have anxiety.” “I’ll make sure you are miserable all the days of your life…this will never get better.” When I feel anxiety creeping in, I talk out loud now. I just tell the old goat to get the heck away from me because I don’t believe his stinking lies.

The second thing I do is listen to praise music. I have discovered if I’m having anxiety and I start playing praise music and singing along, the anxiety dissipates. I cannot be anxious and upset while praising Jesus.

And…I’m human. Sometimes I forget to do those things and I get caught with my guard down. That’s what happened on Monday when we drove by my dad’s house and saw it had been torn down. I immediately felt sick and I let things spiral. I felt horrible and out of control. I could hardly eat a thing and that night, after writing my post, I tried eating a bowl of cereal and immediately got sick.

I did excuse myself to the guest bedroom so as not to interrupt Mr. FixIt’s sleep. I took something to settle my stomach and I read the Bible and listened to praise music. And I asked God to send his angels to wrap their wings around me and keep me safe. I immediately fell into a deep sleep and awoke refreshed and feeling much better.

I knew I needed to spend some time at the farm, though. The Farm is my touchstone. I drove out and sorted through my papers to prepare the taxes. I drank coffee and walked around the yard looking at Grandma’s posies. Once the paperwork was sorted, I took a little snooze in Grandma’s bed and finally headed back to The Ponderosa.

Mr. FixIt did yard work all day. The field looked like a well manicured golf course. He wanted to show me some things so we walked the entire five acres, hand-in-hand, marveling at the spring beauty. We inched through a rose bramble to look for arrowheads on the creek-bank. We moved an old fallen tree. We found violets in the grass and looked for frogs in the ditch along the road.

Last night, just before bed, we went out back in our robes and slippers and held hands while we counted stars. The “bad night” of the night before wasn’t even in my memory. It had been banished with a stern warning…spoken aloud…”Get away from me Satan…you have no dominion over me!” He isn’t as powerful as he would like you to think he is. He can’t read our thoughts so we must speak aloud to him.

Every time I get closer to Jesus…every time I raise my hand in church and further commit my heart to Christ…the enemy swings hard. He does this for the precise reason…he knows I’m a threat. He knows who lives in my heart…who is my true north. And he hates that. That’s ok. I can do hard things. I can have a “bad night” if it means I get so much greatness on the other side.

❤️

“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” James 4:7 NIV

A Room With a View

Mon, 08 Apr 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“This was the biggest selling point on this camper.”

I could hardly wait to get home yesterday afternoon. We had a beautiful day….the baby dedication at church was lovely and we had a family breakfast afterwards. Then we ran errands. It rained while we were in church and again while we were eating breakfast. Then it was dark and cloudy all afternoon. We got home about 4:00 and I made a bee line for TOW-Wanda III and a much anticipated Sunday afternoon nap. I was no sooner tucked in till the sky opened and the sound of rain on the camper roof lulled me quickly into a deep sleep.

When I woke up…this is what I saw and I smiled from ear to ear. This window. I love all the light in this camper and this window takes the cake. I can prop myself up in the corner with my lap desk and iPad and be a totally happy camper!

I remember all the times in Little TOW-Wanda when I sat like this, propped up with a mug of good coffee and a stack of magazines…staring out a window like this and letting God’s nature heal my broken heart. Oh, how I’ve missed this. To turn over and see the sky. To gaze at stars as I drift off to sleep. I’m itching to get off on adventures but there’s stuff to be done first.

Today we are heading to my friend’s house to pick up the camper she’s giving me. I have no idea what shape it’s in so we’ll see. Then there’s taxes. The bathroom is coming along…Mr. FixIt has plumbing to do before we can move the rest of the shower stall in. I need to clean out TOW-Wanda Grande and get her on the market. I need to clean out the truck because we leave the 19th to head to the beach. The first mowing at the Ponderosa occurred this weekend. That means the yard at the farm is going to need mowed this week, for sure.

And off we go. This is the time of year when we hit the ground running. That lazy nap yesterday, stretched out in my little new-to-me camper looking through my big picture window at the rain on the flowering bushes, will just have to hold me over for a while.

❤️

“Dear friend, guard Clear Thinking and Common Sense with your life; don’t for a minute lose sight of them. They’ll keep your soul alive and well, they’ll keep you fit and attractive. You’ll travel safely, you’ll neither tire nor trip. You’ll take afternoon naps without a worry, you’ll enjoy a good night’s sleep. No need to panic over alarms or surprises, or predictions that doomsday’s just around the corner, Because GOD will be right there with you; he’ll keep you safe and sound.” Proverbs 3:21-26 MSG

TOW-Wanda III: Day 1 - Cleanup

Sun, 07 Apr 2019 01:30:52 -0600

“The first thing that had to go was the bunk bed over the main bed.”

The first thing I did yesterday…after coffee, of course…was head out to the new camper. I could hardly sleep the night before, I was so excited. I didn’t realize how very much I missed my first camper till I got a load of this one! I hooked it up to electric and checked out the systems again. The air conditioning worked fine. I cleaned the filter screen in the AC unit so it works more efficiently. The fan, lights, and microwave. I haven’t checked the refrigerator yet.

Mr. FixIt was kind enough to bring a ladder and some RV cleaning products out to the camper for me as well as a hose and scrub brush. I started scrubbing with an RV wash/wax combo and followed up with a Norwex cleaning cloth and Norwex cleaning paste to get the black streaks off. I rinsed it well and checked inside…NO LEAKS! Yesssss! No leaks is a good thing…especially with a 2007 camper. This thing is built exceedingly well.

The camper is a Cikira Classic Cruiser 18FB…which roughly translates to an 18 foot camper with a front bed. From what I can find, Cikira RV wasn’t around for very long, but I don’t think that was because they lacked a quality product. If this camper is any indication, the quality is excellent. The RV industry isn’t easy to break into. But more importantly, look at the date of my camper. The economy in 2007 was booming and people were traveling a lot. Then 2008 came and the bottom fell out of the market. No one was spending money on anything extra. I know…that’s when I had to close my needlework shop. Hobbies like camping and needlework are the first to go when it comes to extraneous expenses.

Once I had the outside walls scrubbed down, I opened the awning and gave it a good wash. I left it open to dry in our beautiful 72 degree weather and closed it up before dusk so it wouldn’t gather the dew. Then it was time to head indoors. The first thing that had to go was the bunk bed overtop the main bed. The previous owners had a 10 year old daughter who loved the bunk above, but it was too confining to lay underneath it and I knew I would hit my head every time is sat down. The bunk was secured with sturdy angle iron and the plywood base was screwed securely to it. I removed the twin size memory foam mattress and Mr. FixIt helped me carry it down to the storage room. We can use it for an extra if we have overflow company.

The front piece of the bunk bed was a long piece of heavy angle iron attached to a decorative wood front. I removed that piece but left the other three pieces of angle iron connected to the three walls above the windows. This way, if we ever need the bunk bed again, we can pop it back in easily enough. Taking that bunk out opened up the entire bed area and made it much more comfortable, roomy, and light. By this time I was fried so I gave in and snuggled up on my new bed and took a nap.

So, our blessings continue. Our great granddaughter is being dedicated to Jesus in church this morning! My heart is so happy!

❤️

“And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”
Mark 10:16 NIV

What a CRAZY Week!

Sat, 06 Apr 2019 01:30:47 -0600

“The perfect little camper!”

When I started out this week, I never dreamed I’d be the owner of SIX campers by the weekend!!! What??? Yes, that’s right…S-I-X campers! Ok, when Mr. FixIt and I started dating, he had two campers (a hybrid and a 27 foot Jayco) and I had one (a 30’ Starcraft). Then, by fall I bought our fourth camper…a 1967 Franklin I named “Joy”. She is still out at the farm and I need to get her over to the Ponderosa so I can work on her some more.

I picked up the little camper yesterday and I’m telling you…she’s a little cream puff. She is immaculate inside with a Sealy memory foam mattress. (Color me happy!) Mr. FixIt went with me to check her out carefully and he agreed I got a good deal on a great little camper. Hooking her up was easy peasy. We stopped at the first gas station and checked the air pressure. This is especially important every single time you tow. Remember the blowout I had coming home from Blackwater Falls a few years ago? It was caused by undetected low tire pressure. I learned a valuable and expensive lesson that day. All four tires were low. This happens when a camper sits for a while. We pumped them all up and headed for home.

The second test would be to see how well Frieda pulled this camper. I was sure she would do well, but this is an 18’ camper. I’ve seen different weights. An online spec sheet says 3740 and the tag on the trailer says 4200. There are some steep hills on the drive home so I watched carefully. Frieda towed that trailer like a boss and the transmission temp didn’t get up over 197 degrees which is perfect. When we got home, I felt the hubs and they were barely warm to the touch so that is wonderful.

I pulled the camper around to the side of the house where the water connector is. The exterior surface is fairly dirty and dull. I wanted to see how it would clean up. I used my Norwex cloth and cleaning paste on a two-foot square section and it looked brand new when I was done. When it started getting dark, I went in the camper and stretched out on the yummy mattress. It’s wonderful! I opened the rock guard from the front window and it is exactly like my first camper…a Sportsmen Classic by K-Z RV.

I loved my first camper and I’ve got to tell you…I love this one more. If my first camper would have had a dinette with a separate bed, I never would have gotten rid of it. This one has exactly what I’ve always wanted and I’m thrilled!

Now, a friend has a 30’ camper that she is giving me and we are going Monday to bring her home….making SIX campers. Mr. FixIt has one for sale now and TOW-Wanda Grande will be on the market as soon as I get her emptied and cleaned up.

“Hi, my name is Ginny…and I have a camper addiction.”

This was absolutely, without a doubt, a prayer answered. This camper is more economical, practical, safer to tow….Thank You, God!

Oh, an update on the bathroom. We managed to go another day without killing each other. However, we did end up having to cut a big chunk out of the drywall to get the bottom piece of the shower stall inserted. AND…there was yet ANOTHER trip to Lowes. Mr. FixIt’s measuring is impeccable. I am not kidding…that opening isn’t 1/16th of an inch bigger than the shower base. I am in the presence of engineering greatness…seriously!

❤️

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”
Proverbs 16:9 NIV

The Third Generation

Fri, 05 Apr 2019 01:30:09 -0600

“Introducing TOW-Wanda III”

I’ve spent a lot of time in my big camper so far this year. She has been my office and sanctuary where I sequester myself and write. And lately, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about how she came into my life. It was the year after Mr. Virgo died. I sold my house and traded in Little TOW-Wanda for TOW-Wanda Grande. She was fancy-schmancy, let me tell you. When things didn’t work out on the farm like I thought they would, I lit out with this behemoth and hauled her all over the country…writing about it all the way. I lived for months at a time on a hill overlooking the beautiful Ohio River. I camped in my son-in-law’s parents’ driveway in Denver and on my friend Sue’s property overlooking Mesa Verde. I towed her from South Dakota to South Carolina and all points in between. But to just hop in and take her camping spontaneously became a chore. A major chore. It was literally like pulling a house and I didn’t go camping nearly as often as I would have liked.

I was visiting with my very wise and experienced friend, Janine Pettit of Girl Camper fame over the weekend in Huntington. I told her I was thinking of going out to get a bigger truck because my camper was just too beefy for her in the mountains. I loved her response. Simple, direct, and too the point.

“Ginny, you don’t need a bigger truck. You need a smaller camper.”

Stopped me cold. It had never seriously occurred to me to downsize the camper until that moment. Suddenly, it made perfect sense. As with all things, I talked to God about it. I told him I would be able to get out and reach more people if I wasn’t so bogged down with the big camper. I told him what I needed in a camper….a bathroom with a toilet and shower, a kitchen with a good sized fridge, a dinette, plenty of storage, and a comfy bed with windows like my first camper. I’ve always been so sorry I traded her in. If I would have known the thing with my aunt at the farm wasn’t going to work out, I never would have gotten such a big camper. That being said, I still wanted a camper with more than one bed. I also wanted a camper with fiberglass sides instead of that rippled aluminum. Those can get dented up so easily with hail and errant branches. Then, I just left it with God. If He wanted me to have a little camper again, He would bring her to me. I knew this…I felt it.

Yesterday morning, I picked up my phone and I “accidentally” hit the FB Marketplace button and up popped the cutest little camper. I almost couldn’t believe it. I haven’t measured her yet but I think she is about 18’ long…exactly the size of Little TOW-Wanda. It has the fiberglass sides like I wanted. It has a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. It has a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator/freezer, a double sink, a two-burner stove, and a microwave. It has a dinette that will turn down into a single bed. It has a double bed and a bunk bed over it…both with a memory foam mattresses. And, get this…it has the very same window configuration Little TOW-Wanda had. It is absolutely perfect and it cost 1/3 the price of a new one of comparable size with a better floor plan than any I’ve seen.

I showed the picture of the camper to Mr. FixIt and told him I was going to text the owner. It had been on FB an hour. I was the first to contact the gal and I went to see the camper last night. I couldn’t believe it. It was exactly….EXACTLY…what I asked for! God is SO good! After carefully inspecting the camper, I told her I’d take it and gave her a little earnest money to hold it till she gets the title for me.

I have been trying to think of a name. I was thinking I should call her Pollyanna. But that just doesn’t fit right. Here’s the thing. My main camper will always and forever be “TOW-Wanda”, no matter what she looks like. It’s how I take my mama with me. She would have loved traveling and having her little house with her. Therefore…meet “TOW-Wanda III”.

❤️

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” Proverbs 16:3 NIV

Vibrant Women

Mon, 01 Apr 2019 01:30:37 -0600

“Vibrant Women…a women’s ministry.”

Something phenomenal happened Friday night and it has taken me this long to process it. Actually, I’m sure I’ll be processing it for some time to come. We have a husband-wife team leading our church. It has been wonderful to watch Pastor Heather growing into a strong leader for the women of our region. A little over three years ago, God planted a seed in her to lead a Women’s Ministry. She gathered her friends together, told them her ideas for this movement, and asked them to start feeding her possible names. When she heard “Vibrant Women”, she was moved. Vigorous. Energetic. Lively. Vital. All words that resonated with where she wanted to go with this movement….words that described women of strong faith.

This was the third Vibrant Women event held at our church…the second I have attended. It’s come a long way since the beginning. I think there might have been two-hundred women at the first one. Friday night saw almost SEVEN HUNDRED women packed into our church. There wasn’t a seat in the house. The sound booth said at one point the decibel scale peaked out at the same level as a jet engine. It was crazy fun. The energy level in that room was amazing.

We had a guest pastor…Pastor April Carter of the Together Church in Yakima, Washington. Pastor April spoke about Living Beyond Fear. Oh….she touched every single one of us. At the end of her message, she told a personal story. Someone who works in her church called her…panic stricken. Then he arrived home, his house was surrounded by police, fire, and ambulance crews. They would not let him in the house. The only thing he knew was, something happened that involved his son. Pastor April and Pastor Micahn headed to the hospital to meet them.

As they sat there, waiting for word of what was going on, she absentmindedly fingered a necklace she was wearing that a friend gave her. It is engraved…”I Can Do Hard Things”. The time dragged slowly by. They prayed together. They held each other up. And, finally…the doctor came out. Their friends’ son had gotten his hands on a gun and somehow accidentally shot himself. And they could not save him. Pastor April closed her eyes and repeated to herself…

“I can do hard things. I can do hard things. I can do hard things.”

Since Mr. Virgo died, I haven’t been so good in medical emergencies. There have been times I haven’t been able to show up for people who need me to do hard things. Pastor April challenged us to put on our boxing gloves and get in the ring of life and fight. Listening to her, I felt empowered. I felt stronger. I felt like trying harder and being the best version of myself I can be. I mean, isn’t that what faith does for us?

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Even the hard things.

We were doubly blessed in that Pastor April delivered our message at church yesterday too so we got to hear her twice this weekend. I googled her name on YouTube last night and there was a message called “Hard Reset”. You should give it a listen if you are interested. She is very good.

❤️

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:13 NIV

Girl Campers

Sun, 31 Mar 2019 01:30:57 -0600

“Aren’t these the cutest little campfire cupcakes?”

There is something so special about camping with a bunch of gals. You may not have met them yet, but they’re going to be your new BFF’s before the weekend is over. I’ve been involved with the whole camp-like-a-girl movement since Mr. Virgo died and I got my first camper. I was first introduced to Sisters on the Fly and along the way, I met and got to know Janine Pettit.

Janine has been a girl camper (little “g”) since she was a child and traveled with her parents on camping vacations. Along the way, Janine was asked to write a series on the GoRVing blog about amazing women campers. The RV industry recognized there was a whole demographic they weren’t serving well and Janine was just the person to bring on board to reach them. She’s personable, fun, and extremely knowledgeable about all things camping.

Almost four years ago now, Janine started the Girl Camper Podcast which has become an incredible resource for women hoping to get into camping but may not be sure where to start. You may recall I have been interviewed several times on Janine’s show and I am always honored to attend her events. I meet some of the most wonderful women.

I went to Milton, West Virginia yesterday to visit with my tribe. Janine was in from New Jersey for a Camper College at Setzer’s RV in Huntington. Camper College is an event an RV Dealer sponsors with Janine and the gals get a couple of hours to ask questions and learn more about campers and their operation. Gail Bable is the Camp Host for Beaver Creek State Park in East Liverpool, Ohio and she is one of my home girls.

I love going to these events because you get to see gals you haven’t seen for a while and you always get to meet new people. I was standing in the kitchen visiting when Gail came up to me and drew my attention to the two women sitting on the sofa.

“Ginny, I overheard those two gals chatting. They are both widows.”

I walked right over and sat with them. I could see they were emotional and wiping away tears.

“What are we talking about, girls?”

“Dead husbands, I’m afraid.”

“Ahhhhh….yes. I have one of those. I’m Ginny McKinney. It’s so nice to meet you.”

We sat and visited for a bit and exchanged info. One is a published author and the other is a blogger and about to head out full time in her new Little Guy Max camper. You never know who you might meet along the way and how you might be able to help each other.

My good friend, Cherry, brought the cupcakes that look like little campfires. Aren’t they the cutest things??? Janine handed out some swag…collapsible fans, sunglasses, bottle openers. A good time was had by all and of course there was enough food there to feed a small army. I left after dinner to head back home so I could get up in time for church this morning. What a fun, fun weekend!

If you haven’t followed Girl Camper yet, do head over to her Facebook page and her website. It’s such a loving, warm community of women.

Girl Camper

❤️

“...a sweet friendship refreshes the soul.” Proverbs 27:9 MSG

Getting Healthy

Sat, 30 Mar 2019 01:30:01 -0600

“It’s time to get healthy with AdvoCare’s 24 Day Challenge!”

I went to the doctor last week for bronchitis and had to do that thing I’ve dreaded the most…I had to step on a scale! I haven’t weighed myself in ages…mostly because I just find it so demoralizing. I am past the caring what others think of me thing. However, I do still care what I think of myself. I don’t feel healthy when I weigh this much. My feet hurt. My bladder leaks. My acid reflux is abysmal. The whole thing makes me pretty darned cranky.

Unfortunately, I’ve had to take steroids twice in the last six months and that wreaks havoc on my weight. However, I can’t just blame this weight gain on medications. Writing this book kept me sequestered in my camper for the last two months. And when I write, I nibble and nosh without thinking much about it. Winter brings the blahs and comfort food gets me in trouble in a hurry.

It’s time to do something about it. I did check into a weight loss program that a friend of mine is one. She has had a dramatic weight loss and looks wonderful, but her program is $400 a month and that is unreasonable for someone on a fixed income. I have decided to do what worked for me last time and just ordered the Advocare 24 Day Challenge. It’s time. It’s not too terribly expensive and if you work it, it really gives me that jump start I need to get me going. If any of you are interested in doing it with me, you can send me a private message and I can send you the link to purchase what you need. If you followed along with me three years ago, you saw what a difference it made.

It’s a new season. I need to stay active and physically fit so I can maintain my fun girl camper lifestyle! I’m going to be 66 this summer…it’s time to really take serious control of my health!

❤️

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”
1 Corinthians 9:24-27 NIV

The Ponderosa

Wed, 27 Mar 2019 01:30:52 -0600

“The Ponderosa is the land I have dreamed of all my life.”

I’ve still been recuperating from this bronchitis/cold/virus/allergy thing. Kind of laying low, taking care of myself. To keep from re-infecting Mr. FixIt (he already had this last month), I’ve been spending a lot of time out in TOW-Wanda…resting, reading, writing, napping, cogitating. It has been very good for me to spend so much time in my little house on wheels. It certainly made winter go by MUCH quicker!

As I was writing this yesterday, I was stretched out in my “sun room”…the slide-out in my camper. It is actually the dinette, but it collapses down and makes a twin-sized bed and I actually have a mattress in there. I have piles of pillows and comfy blankets all around so it’s a nice little cocoon in which to snuggle and write and dream.

An e-mail came in while I was writing and it took me back probably ten years or so. It was from a site called Land Watch. Many years ago, I was trying to convince Mr. Virgo that it would be a very good idea to move back home to West Virginia. He humored me and looked at the farms and land I found. He half-heartedly searched for B&B’s for sale here and in the surrounding states. But, he came from Pennsylvania…he lived a long time in Florida…all with the goal of ultimately living in Colorado. His Nirvana. I think if push came to shove, he would have moved here for me…but he wouldn’t have been happy. God had different plans anyway because he took Mr. Virgo to His home before I could take him to mine.

As I looked at that e-mail and thought of all those times I dreamed of having a few acres in West Virginia, I looked out the windows of TOW-Wanda at the fields and far hills of the Ponderosa and smiled. I have what I have always dreamed of having. A faith-filled life. A wonderful family…biological and bonus. And land…a garden, grass, trees, flowers. TWO farms, actually. I’m doubly blessed. I had no idea ten years ago I would realize my lifelong dream but it wouldn’t look at all like I thought it would. It’s funny how life plays out.

I took the liberty of blurring out some identifying features in the photo above. There’s a neighbor up at the top there…I blurred out their home. And I blurred out the roads and route numbers that were on the map. But it gives you an excellent view of the Ponderosa. All that green there? That’s what we mow! This satellite image was taken at least two and a half years ago because the maple is still in the front yard. It fell in late 2016 or early 2017. You can see the curved drive where there are two campers parked. My TOW-Wanda sits where that blue dot is on the map.

Nature is getting ready to show off…things are getting green. The trees are starting to bud. The forsythia are blooming, as are the daffodils. They were stunted somewhat by the polar vortex, I think. They are much shorter than usual. We were walking through the yard on Monday and realized it won’t be long till we need to mow it. It will be at least a month before we get the pool ready. As I am writing this, the sun is shining. We are at our high for the day…51 degrees. We are going to our Alma Mater’s Girl’s Softball game this evening to watch one of the granddaughters play. It is a good life we live and I still have to pinch myself sometimes to believe I’m really here.

❤️

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters,” Psalm 23:2 NIV

Widowed or Single?

Tue, 26 Mar 2019 01:30:29 -0600

“Has the mental image of ‘widow’ changed all that much?

One of my friends shared a post with me yesterday. Ironically, it turns out I know the woman who wrote it. And, I know her well enough to understand what she meant by what she said about being called a widow. The writer, Jan, said she didn’t like the term “widow” because it conjures up this preconceived notion of “old” and “feeble”. As she says, we live in an era where ageism runs rampant. Our gray hair and social mores puts the widow in an unenviable position on more levels than grief alone.

Jan says she hates going into doctor’s offices and filling out the forms, having to select widowed or single. She has taken to saying she is “single-by-death” because, she DOES feel single. I’m all for changing the vernacular and the image of widows. Of course, the early throes of acute grief is a time where most of us feel old beyond our years, lost, destined to a life of lonely sadness. After that period of crisis, we do begin…in our own time…to heal and move forward. I don’t know any widow who wants to be looked down on and pitied. In this day and age, widows aren’t a bunch of doddering old ladies wearing black and sitting in the corner crying all the time.

I hated the term widow, too. I thoroughly resented it at first because I was very, very busy trying to pretend he didn’t die. Calling me a widow just turned a spotlight on my spectacular ruse and left me with nothing but shadow puppets of my former life. I sometimes rebelliously referred to myself as “single-by-chance” simply because I hated the word death as much as I hated the word widow. “Single-by-chance” could cover a lot of situations…death, divorce, break-ups. I liked it. But eventually, I just went with widow and tried to show what one looks like by pulling a huge camper across the country alone and dancing on the bar at Coyote Ugly and going into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months…alone.

In researching photos for this post, I Googled “widow”. There was a plethora of images of spiders and Scarlet Johansson in a black latex catsuit with the occasional Civil War era tintype of a haunted woman in black thrown in for good measure. This got me to thinking…if Google is any indication, maybe the world isn’t as obsessed with the word “widow” as widows themselves are. Widowhood and grief are lonely pursuits. We are singular. We are rather myopic. We have lost half of our whole. At least, we have for a while. Eventually, half reduces itself…bit by tiny little bit.

I was widowed…singled-by-chance…surely not by choice. Now that Mr. FixIt and I have married, when I relate my story in my work as a speaker and a writer, I say I was widowed. I suppose in the absolute vernacular, I am a widow. But that is a far smaller piece of who I am today than it used to be. I think that’s the way it should be…for me.

That’s the beauty of language and social norms. We can change things. We can change the words and the images of who we are in the world today. Who we are and how we want to be seen. What works for one may not work for another. Be who…or what…you are. Empirical evidence says…I am a Child of God…first and foremost. The rest is superfluous.

❤️

““Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.” Then all the people shall say, “Amen!””
Deuteronomy 27:19 NIV

Into the Woods

Mon, 25 Mar 2019 01:30:28 -0600

“A satellite view of The Farm….lots and lots of trees and hills.”

You have seen pictures of the farmhouse I’ve been caring for…the home of my heart. I’ve tried to describe what the 74 acres looks like. “Lots of trees and woods” is a bit of an understatement and it’s hard to picture if you are unfamiliar with the dense deciduous woods of West Virginia.

I went on Google Maps and took a satellite view of the farm. I wasn’t able to get all the land in one picture without making the house look so small you couldn’t see it. But, that little red dot in the lower left corner is the map pin on the house. And those dense woods you see there is maybe two-thirds of the farm itself. Inside those woods are trails and roads, creeks and rocky outcroppings. And somewhere off to the right about one-third up from the bottom is the strawberry shed where we sorted berries for the farmer’s market.

The ground gains elevation rapidly on both sides of the house and comes together in a “V” and on up the hills to the back of the farm. The little creek that comes down off those hills and runs right past the bedroom window roars when there’s been heavy rain. It crosses under the road through a two or three foot culvert and joins the bigger creek across the road. That flows on down to a larger river, to a larger river, to the Ohio River to the Mississippi River, and finally to the Gulf of Mexico. Water from our farm. Isn’t that cool?

Well, in theory it is cool. But this is the time of year for massive flooding so our rushing creek water gets added to thousands of other creeks and the drainage backs up. Our watershed isn’t related to the flooding in the Midwest. Their flooding is of epic proportions and people are still trying to dig out from under that.

Before Parkersburg built the flood wall, town used to flood a lot. When I was a little girl, around five years old, the creek that ran beside our house overflowed its banks and we were evacuated by rowboats going up our street. Since then, a lot of mitigation work has been completed and they don’t see that kind of flooding anymore.

We are supposed to be getting rain all day again. A little cooler today, but soon….soon we will enjoy long stretches of warm spring days and we can spend more time outside. The forsythia is just started to bloom. Whole hillsides are covered with bright yellow daffodils. They were an inexpensive flower that farm wives could afford to put in their yards to brighten up their little corners of the world. As a matter of fact, you drive along country roads and you can tell where houses once stood by the evidence of daffodils in a square or rectangle…surrounding the perimeter of a house long gone.

The grass is greening up. Mr. FixIt and I remarked that we’ll be mowing before long. And, the spring onions are sending up their shoots in clumps all through the lawn. The first time or two that we mow, it will smell strongly of onions when we pass over them. When I was a little girl and we milked cows, the milk smelled and tasked of onion. NOT want you want to eat on your !Cheerios! The butter also smelled like onions…not quite so bad if you were putting in vegetables, but yucky if you were putting on biscuits with jelly.

I love, love, love this time of year. Time to roll up our sleeves and get stuff done!

❤️

“Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.” Deuteronomy 32:2 NIV

Sunday Memories

Sun, 24 Mar 2019 01:30:54 -0600

“Grandma always carried a fresh hanky wherever she went.”

I was looking through my picture albums on my iPad yesterday. I sometimes browse to find old memories that stir up a story for you. This one did just that. I’ve been writing about The Farm since early on in this blog. Grandma’s farm holds a king-sized piece of real estate in my heart so my stories often center around my memories there. And, since I am knee deep in editing my rough draft for the book, I have been writing and re-reading these stories.

For as far back as I can remember, my grandma tied a shiny dime in the corner of a clean hanky and gave one to each of us kids to take to church. The hanky for our little noses…the shiny dime for the collection plate. Then Pop-Pop gave us each a stick of Beeman’s gum. Actually, we only got half a stick till we got older. I can remember when I ‘graduated’ to a full stick…I felt so grown up.

“Bethel Chapel…the little church on the hill. I drew this picture June 28, 2001…sitting on the sidewalk out front.”

The little church-house up on the hill has been there since June 9, 1914. It hasn’t had a lot done to it in all those years. Two rooms were built on the back for classrooms and an indoor bathroom…something we didn’t have the pleasure of when I was growing up. The windows have been replaced. The belfry was listing to one side so it’s been shored up. It has been painted countless times over the years. When my cousin Rick and his wife Charlotte got married, my Aunt Peeps painted that church all by herself so it would be fresh for the wedding. That woman loved to paint!

I have some really wonderful memories of that little church. And I’ve had some of my most traumatic there. This was the church where the little circuit preacher literally scared the pee out of me and I headed off to find God some other way. That led me to eventually becoming Jewish for twenty-seven years, and now…here I am…full circle and back to my roots. This was also the church where my parents were married, where my Pop-Pop was one of the lay-ministers, and where his funeral was held. Many Sundays I sat in the hard wooden pews as a little girl with my feet dangling mid-air, clutching my little hanky and worrying out the knot to get my dime ready for the collection. Many Sundays, Aunt Idy played the rickety old piano…it’s keys sticking and horribly out of tune.

Aunt Idy lived in a crooked white house. She was a tiny, frail little thing…never married. She helped care for her invalid sister and brother and she was my grandma’s best friend. Once a week, Aunty Idy called to get the latest “news” for the Ritchie County Gazette. She wrote the column about the latest goings on up Dutchman road and Grandma always cringed when she saw something about herself in the paper. She abided by the rule “Fool’s names, like their faces, always seen in public places.” It was usually something like “so-and-so had a visit this week from such-and-such from somewhere” or “Mr. & Mrs. Somebody went to Parkersburg this week to see the doctor. All were given a clean bill of heath!” Thank God Grandma never told her about hemorrhoids!

Grandma’s hankies. I have a couple of them somewhere in my things…the things I couldn’t part with. I don’t know that my kids will be interested…or even my grandkids. So, maybe when it’s my time to go, I’ll tie a shiny dime in the corner and go looking for Grandma.

❤️

“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. As it is written: “They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor; their righteousness endures forever.”” 2 Corinthians 9:6-9 NIV

From Wounded to Awakened

Wed, 20 Mar 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Awakened Women know from whence they came. Overcoming brokenness takes a great deal of hard work and patience.”

It would probably be safe to say most of us have been wounded in one way or another in our lives. You don’t get to 65 without some bumps and bruises. I spent so much of my adult life as one of the walking wounded. Growing up with an alcoholic father, being subjected to sexual abuse, experiencing brutality at the hands of a teacher, and getting the pee scared out of me by a traveling preacher were the foundation of fear that wounded my little girl psyche. That led me down a path of self destruction that nearly ended my life.

Kathy, my small group leader, posted this meme in our group chat yesterday. When you are the wounded woman who has become awakened, you don’t always understand the significance of the steps involved to heal. It’s easier when you watch others achieve their own healing. That’s when you understand just how far you’ve come. In other words, sometimes you really don’t get something till you see it in black and white.

I was sitting with Mr. FixIt at breakfast yesterday when I saw this meme. I had just been talking to him the other night about how different I feel with him than with any other person I’ve been with. I am totally at home. Comfortable in my own skin.

“You see the list on the left?” I said. “That was me before Mr. Virgo. Actually, I was still a little bit like that while I was married to him. But now? Now I’m firmly planted in the list on the right. You didn’t do that. I didn’t do that. GOD did that. Ok…I had to choose God first. Then I had to ask him to fix me. But HE’S the one that did the fixing. He’s the one who sent the right therapists, the right doctor. He’s the one who gave me the courage to find my voice.”

He “gets” me. He’s the one who gets to reap the rewards of my awakening. I remember back when I was separated from Hubby #2. I knew he had this good, kind, gently, emotive man inside him. He knew I had the potential to embrace everything in the list on the right. We just couldn’t bring those things out in each other. We needed to go through what we went through to become who we are.

Our daughter is getting married in August. Mr. FixIt and I will be attending the wedding being held at my ex’s somewhat palatial estate. I’ve never been there but I’ve seen pictures. The “me” that used to live in the left hand list would walk into that house feeling less than…unworthy…apologetic…falling all over myself to make a good impression, to look a certain way, to act a certain way in order to gain approval. The woman I have become is awakened. I know my value. It doesn’t come from anything…or anyone…earthly. I needn’t apologize for anything. I speak gently to myself.

I have to admit…the first time I saw a picture of my ex’s house, I burned with envy. For just a moment. The thought was, ‘That should have been MY house!’ Which was immediately followed by, ‘Yes, dear one…but HE comes with that house.’ There’s definitely a reason we aren’t together. We are both much better off apart.

This has been a long….LONG time coming. And, I’m finally…finally…finally there. ❤️

“for the light makes everything visible. This is why it is said, “Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light.””
Ephesians 5:14 NLT

A Night Out

Mon, 18 Mar 2019 01:30:21 -0600

“I love vintage embroidered linens.”

When we finally got home from town after church yesterday, I went out to TOW-Wanda and started getting her ready for the camping season. And, by getting her ready I mean I made the bed. And got in it. There’s nothing better than a good book in your camper on a Sunday afternoon. That, and a little snooze.

As I was getting the linens out to dress the bed, I came across these pillow cases. The blue and white one was purchased as part of a set made from antique German linens I purchased in Colorado in the ‘80s. The antique dealer had them embroidered…the pillow cases with the scroll embroidery and the shams with “Good Morning” and “Good Night”. I love this set and had forgotten the pillowcase had made it’s way into my camper at some point.

The other pillowcase is from a set I had my mom embroider when she came to Colorado one time. She used to embroider all the time and I loved the idea of having something she made to carry with me forever. It makes me smile and think of her.

I sent my manuscript to the proofreader last week. There were a few typos she highlighted for me. And, there were a couple of notes to areas that needed fleshing out in my book. She mentioned she wanted to know more about my mom and our relationship. When I curled up under the covers in TOW-Wanda yesterday, I thought of my mom…Wanda. I picked up my iPad and wrote more about this kind and loving soul who was my mother. She was one of a kind and I loved listening to the rain on the roof as I walked down memory lane with my mom.

Mother-daughter relationships can be tricky. My mom and I butted heads a lot. In all honesty, I was always a little too big for my britches, as my grandma would have put it. I was married to a doctor. I had a career in medicine. I had traveled a lot more and had lived in big cities. I fancied myself ever so much more sophisticated than my mom. It wasn’t until after the overdose that I realized what a horse’s patoot I had been to my poor mother. The only defense I have is the fact I was on Prozac for so many years and it changed my personality so that I really didn’t care much about others.

Fortunately, I got off all the meds and alcohol and grew up quite a bit so that my mom and I had a much better relationship the last few years of her life. It would have been so terribly sad if she would have died before we got to that point. She has been gone for 15 years now…so hard to believe. I am so happy I have tangible reminders of her and that I chose to keep them when I downsized. There are some things you just can’t get rid of and this pillowcase is one of them.

When Mr. FixIt came home, he came out and joined me in TOW-Wanda and we spent the night in the camper…our first night out for 2019. Maybe it’s not quite camping weather because they were predicting a bit of snow overnight, but we had plenty of cozy comforters and a furnace to keep us warm. Bring on the camping season!!!

❤️

““Honor your father and mother.” This is the first commandment with a promise: If you honor your father and mother, “things will go well for you, and you will have a long life on the earth.””
Ephesians 6:2-3 NLT

Kiss Me...I’m 23% Irish!

Sun, 17 Mar 2019 01:30:33 -0600

“We’re all Irish on St. Paddy’s Day!”

According to my DNA test results, I am 23% Irish-Scottish. I wish I would have known this before Mr. Virgo died because he was a very, very proud Irish lad. I mean…McKinney, right? It doesn’t get much more Irish than that. He acted like he had a corner on the market when it came to Irish roots. He adored St. Patrick’s Day. Every year, we had corned beef and cabbage and fried apples for dinner. He stopped short of wearing green since he worked in 5-Star hotels and restaurants. He had a certain decorum about him. But, ohhhhhh, that was HIS holiday.

He called me the night of the 16th and said…”OMGosh! I forgot to buy green food coloring for the beer! You’ve got to go to the store for me!” Ok…every…stinking…year.

“Are you telling me you can’t think of this at least ONCE in the 364 days between the holidays?” I was always thunderstruck this incredibly organized VIRGO couldn’t seem to grasp that he was going to need green food coloring every year.

“Yes! Please…it’s 9:00! The stores are going to close soon…I need to bring it in with me in the morning. Get as many bottles as you can!”

sigh

“Ok, babe…I’ll do my best!”

We lived in a teeny little town with one grocery store. I rushed in and cornered the first grocery clerk I came to. “Quick! Green food coloring! I need ALL of your green food coloring!”

Do you have a picture in your mind of the look on her face?

“Ummmmmm, ok. It’s over here.”

Four little bottles. I bought them and tried to calculate if I could get to the next town in time before they closed so I could buy more when my better angels said, “Nahhhhh…that’s enough.”

Every year…same thing.

I was sitting in the pizza joint typing this the other night. I haven’t really felt Mr. Virgo around for quite awhile, but as I was in the middle of typing this story and literally laughing out loud…the radio overhead got really loud.

“At Last” by Etta James.

We danced our first dance to that song. I sat back and looked at the empty seat across the booth from me and smiled.

‘Are you here? Did you come to say hello? Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Mr. Virgo! I’m so glad you stopped by.’

❤️

“Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” Mark 16:16 NIV

Heaven Sent

Fri, 15 Mar 2019 01:30:41 -0600

“I know it isn’t officially spring, but….this is good enough for me!”

Beware the Ides of March, they say. March 15th hasn’t always been my favorite day. For instance, this was the day Hubby #2 told me he wanted a divorce. Not one of my better days. This was also the day of Mr. Virgo’s viewing and Rosary which knocked all previous bad days out of the bad day competition up to that point. I think the 16th nudged ahead of that one.

Now though…now is different. Even though it’s not officially spring in West Virginia, you can’t tell Mother Nature that. Yesterday was stellar with a temp of 79 degrees at 4:00pm. After watching videos of the bomb cyclone that tore through Colorado on Wednesday, I was ever so grateful to sit in TOW-Wanda and write. The sounds of the peepers serenaded me as the stiff breezes rocked the camper gently. I even rubbed it in by video chatting with my favorite peeps in Denver and showed them the sunshine and open windows in my camper. Yeah…they don’t like me much right now….can’t understand why. insert eye-roll here

We all have good times and bad times in life that cycle up and down. I don’t forget the bad times. In the throes of acute grief, you honestly don’t believe you will ever feel joy again so it comes as a surprise when you first feel it. You even feel guilty because, after all, how can you possibly laugh when your person died? Eventually, one smile brings two. Laughter slowly replaces tears. Warm memories eventually move the pain of loss a little further back in your mind till eventually, even one day after the angelversary, you can feel the sun on your face and appreciate a warm spring day with undeniable joy in your heart.

Life is good. God is great. Spring is here. Joy abounds. Breathe. If these things aren’t here for you yet…hang on. They’re coming. ❤️

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.” Proverbs 17:22 NLT

Angelversary

Tue, 12 Mar 2019 01:30:19 -0600

“Remembering Mr. Virgo”

Last year, I removed the date of Mr. Virgo’s death from my calendar so I would no longer receive reminders on my phone. After all, I’m not likely to forget such an event as that anyway. I do have a hard time remembering the exact date of my mom’s death and my grandma’s and my dad’s. I know approximately when they occurred but I have to look it up if I need to know the exact date. Not so with Mr. Virgo’s. I’ll never forget that…or him.

It was six years ago today that we set out to buy the travel trailer to take us into retirement. It was a beautiful sunny day with a hint of spring and we had everything to look forward to. Although I had been having premonitions all week, it was still a shock when he died so suddenly.

This was something I didn’t believe I could recover from. I swore to my girls that I would never, ever get married again because I couldn’t go through this a second time. Yet, here we are…six years down the road and I’m married again…to an equally wonderful man. I’ve been blessed with good men in my life.

My friend Deneene lost her husband in March a few years after me. I began to mentor her through the widow experience when she was going through a particularly rough patch. We don’t get to see each other much anymore as she has moved to South Carolina with her new love. We connect frequently via chat and yesterday, she sent a note telling me she was thinking of me and the angelversary of Mr. Virgo’s death. She asked how I was going to commemorate this day. Last year, when I removed the alarm from my calendar, I thought five years was enough of that. I figured I wouldn’t want to do anything special anymore. But, once I thought about it, I decided I was wrong. Time doesn’t change the facts.

It’s interesting at this point to think of my marriage to Mr. Virgo. He has now been gone the same amount of time we were married. And, just because time has passed, and just because I’m crazy in love with Mr. FixIt and I’m happily married, doesn’t mean my love for this wonderful man I shared my life with has diminished. Daughter #2 called me yesterday and we talked for quite some time about this. When we lose someone so special, our hearts expand at some point. My heart is much, much bigger than it was when Mr. Virgo died. There are spaces there with the names of every person I have truly loved. Those spaces do not become smaller in order to allow room for other to come in. The vessel itself had to grow.

As time has passed after each loss, those spaces that remain from the love lost aren’t empty shells. I’ve filled them with love and memories like filling a beautiful vase with thousands of blooms…only these flowers will never die. There were times, especially with the divorces, that I held onto bitterness and anger, but those things did not serve me. Filling each space in my heart with love has been my saving grace.

I am so blessed to be married to such a wonderful man who does not expect me to clean house and rid myself of those spaces in my heart. I would never expect him to do so. If you have truly loved someone, no matter what the end result of the relationship, filling those rooms full of flowers can set you free.

So, I’m at the farm. I’m writing and drinking good coffee and eating chocolate hearts. And I’m counting all my blessings for a heart filled with blooms by remembering my life with a good, kind man. ❤️

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26 NIV

Tap Tap Tap

Mon, 11 Mar 2019 01:30:31 -0600

“Typing away…tap, tap, tap!”

I am back to work on the book. I’m editing the first rough draft and it’s going really well, actually. My prayer going into this was to have a cheerful heart and find joy in the process. It’s amazing what a change in attitude can do in making a normally arduous task into something of a pleasure. Fresh eyes and a little distance gives you a new perspective and it’s easier to identify where the story needs polishing.

I took yesterday off. Grandma always instructed us to keep the Sabbath. She told me if I ever sewed anything on Sunday, I’d spend all of eternity picking it out with my teeth. I can approach editing with more joy than before, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend all eternity doing it! We went to church with the family and then brunch.

I bought the piece to fix the toilet at the farm. I need to fill the propane tanks for TOW-Wanda. Then I can hole up in the camper and write. Oh…and I finally took down the Christmas tree. I figured it was time with the spring forward thing!

We had such a lovely warm day yesterday. We got out of the truck after church and the peepers were singing! That is definitely the harbinger of spring. We made it through another winter!

Oh, I wanted to tell you about something that happened last week. Actually, it started about a month ago. I had a small mole on my temple that suddenly started to grow. I didn’t think much of it, but when it became tender and was really getting quite noticeable, I figured it was about time to call the dermatologist to go in and have it taken off.

Then I heard a sermon on healings. The premise was to not only pray for the healing….but to believe in the healing and thank God for it as if it had already occurred. Last week, I placed my finger on the growth and thanked God for taking it away for me. I just believed it was gone. I really wish I would have taken a picture of the growth for proof because…in two days’ time, it quite literally dried up and fell off! I run my fingers over the smooth skin where this growth was and I am just so amazed. Power of suggestion? Placebo effect? Nah…I’m going with divine intervention! Isn’t that amazing? ❤️

“Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.” Jeremiah 17:14 NIV

Spring Ahead

Sat, 09 Mar 2019 02:30:54 -0600

“Daylight Savings Time begins at 2:00am tomorrow!”

I sat down yesterday to browse my calendar when it struck me…it’s, like…MARCH! Not only that, it’s over a week into it already. This winter was SO much easier to take so I have to think about what I’ve done differently and do it again next year.

We kept the tree up. Ok…it’s STILL up. It’s not decorated but no one who comes out our road and sees the white lights twinkling through the window really knows that. I love the white lights. They make me happy and if that’s all it takes, then I’ll leave the darned tree up all year round! Ok. I’m not going that far. Maybe it should come down tomorrow. After all, tomorrow night when we go to bed, we turn the clocks forward and Daylight Savings Time begins. I think that should be the new benchmark…the tree goes up the weekend after Thanksgiving and comes down when we spring forward!

I spent the entire month of February out in TOW-Wanda. You have no idea what that did for me. My mood stayed up and I felt like I was camping, even though I was out in the field and didn’t actually sleep in the camper. So, I guess this means I have to write a book every February from now on. That works for me!

The writing itself kept my mind occupied and off the fact that we were in that long, dreary stretch of wasteland called winter. I poured myself into my book and before I knew it, 75,000+ words had poured out of my fingers.

We planned and executed projects around the house. Having goals helped make the time pass more quickly.

All of these things kept me looking forward and boosted my spirits. I took breaks away and spent time at the farm which is always my happy place and helped immensely. We have a lot of fun things planned in the coming months. There’s going to be camping trips and gatherings with my friends. My niece is graduating from college in Indiana. We’re going to meet my son-in-law’s parents at our time share in the Outer Banks. We’re going to fit a trip to Florida in there somewhere. We have friends in South Carolina and Tennessee that we want to see. My daughter is getting married in August in Colorado. And we have a new great grandchild coming around the time we get back from the wedding.

It is going to be a fun and busy summer and those are the months I want time to slow down to a crawl!

Don’t forget to set your clocks ahead tonight when you go to bed. We’re heading into spring time!!!! ❤️

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV

Feed Me!

Thu, 07 Mar 2019 02:30:52 -0600

“A redbird just makes my day!”

I fixed my coffee and sat down at Grandma’s window to read my morning devotions before I commenced editing the rough draft yesterday. A red flash caught my eye and I looked out to see a cardinal at the feeder. It didn’t take long for me to realize both feeders were empty. I set my coffee aside and dragged the big seed bin from the corner of the dining room out to the front door. I used to leave this bin out on the front porch till one day I noticed the lid was getting chewed up. I used a bungee cord to tie the lid down to keep the critters out but the raccoons were about to get in out of sheer persistence.

I quickly filled the feeders and was happy to get back inside out of the 17 degree chill. It was snowing to beat the band five minutes earlier, but now the sun was out. It left little warmth, unfortunately, but my…it did look pretty on that new snow. I dragged the seed bin back into the dining room and tucked it behind my chair and sat back down. In moments, Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal swooped back in, their feathers puffed up to trap air and keep them warm. They looked pretty fat and sassy, but I knew they appreciated breakfast.

I heated up my coffee.

I found myself wishing I had done more for Grandma when she lived here all those years after Pop-Pop died. Oh, I bought her a new stove once and a refrigerator. I talked to her on the phone one day and she was remarking how hot it was and her fan stopped working. I went online and ordered a fan and she received it the next day. She thought I was some kind of miracle worker. I never could get her to understand internet shopping.

In her later years, when she spent so much time sitting in her chair in front of this very window, her Bible lay open on her lap as she studied her Sunday School Lesson. She would have loved to have had these bird feeders out on her porch then. The birds would have been so close she could almost reach out and touch them. This made me chuckle at another memory.

When grandma took pictures of the family when we gathered for visits, she stood way back so everyone fit in the frame. None of this “scooch together, guys”. Nope…she would have moved back as far as she needed to to get everyone in the picture. This is why, unless you were present on that particular occasion, you only have the vaguest idea WHO is actually IN the photo. You can’t make out any facial features. If you blew up the pictures a hundred times, you still couldn’t identify anyone simply because it was too far away to gain any kind of focus.

But SHE knew who was there. She never forgot a thing. She was sharp clear up to within a year or two before her death. She never forgot a gathering…they were just that important to her. She always wanted us to all get together at her house, at the same time. She reveled in her family. I understand that more now than I ever have. I miss my Colorado family. I enjoy my West Virginia family. Couldn’t the two states be closer?

I finished my devotion, in front of Grandma’s window and another thought came to me. I wish I would have accepted Jesus while she was still living. She would have loved that. ❤️

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

A Change of Scenery

Wed, 06 Mar 2019 02:30:11 -0600

“Running out of propane sent me running for the farm.”

I had a lovely, slow start to my morning yesterday. I had a full day planned out in “the office”, reading and editing the rough draft. Went out and turned the furnace on ahead of time to warm it up since it was a frigid 17 degrees. I fixed my coffee, gathered my book bag, kissed Mr. FixIt goodbye, and headed out to TOW-Wanda.

I wasn’t out there 20 minutes when it seemed to be getting colder instead of warmer. I got up and checked the air blowing out of the heater vents…barely warm. I lit the burner on the stove and even on high, there was barely a flame. I was very close to running out of propane. So, I shut it all down, packed everything back up, and headed back in the house.

As I’ve shared before, we are in the midst of renovating the master bath, which usually has Mr. FixIt hopping. However, with it being 17 degrees, he wasn’t very motivated to go out to the building and cut drywall. I knew I would be tempted to blow off what I intended to do and just hang out with my buddy all day. Instead, I announced there was a change of plans.

Since my book bag was already packed, I decided to come to the farm for a few days of intense editing time. After a snooze in the recliner, Mr. FixIt found the motivation to work on the bathroom…since his playmate wasn’t going to be there. It sounds like a win-win, I do believe. I arrived, fixed some lunch, and carried my coffee to the front window where Grandma always watched the world go by. My portable desk on my lap, my iPad open and at the ready, I found my gaze continually pulled to the view before me.

There is the clock I bought Mr. Virgo for his last Christmas. There is the little birdhouse my dear friend Charlotte gave me. You can see the newel post my Uncle Bud made for Grandma when I was a very little girl. He had a penchant for all things cedar. Out front, the bird feeders were attracting the usual flock of chickadees, finches, and tufted titmice. The doves gathered around on the ground below, scavenging what had been knocked aside by the others as they looked for their favorite tidbits among the seeds.

I kept hearing a banging sound I couldn’t identify. It sounded like the popping sound the old gas stove made before we switched out for the new one. I sat in the bathroom for twenty minutes waiting for it to kick off and back on but it never did. I sat in the bedroom and finally heard the sound again. It came from the front of the house. I walked around out front and couldn’t find anything and just as I was coming back inside, a gust of wind knocked something on the front porch and duplicated the sound. A little repositioning and the problem was solved.

The deep gong of the only wind chime I can tolerate let me know the breeze is picking up. It’s cold and white outside, but in here, it’s warm and toasty. We have free gas at the farm. My Pop-Pop always said, the free gas was worth more than the farm itself. I believe he is correct, from a strictly monetary and convenience standpoint. But I would beg to differ in the real value of these 74 acres. This is…and will always be…the home of my heart. It’s old. It’s drafty. The roof leaks in a couple places, but not bad. The linoleum flooring is cracked and has holes here and there…it’s pattern worn and faded.

The original double hung windows are single paned in desperate need of a good washing. The nail heads show through on the old plaster and lathe walls. The boards creak in just the right areas to play the same tune I’ve heard all my life as I wander through the rooms. The pump kicks on out in the cellar house, reminding me our water doesn’t come through some treatment plant but is filtered through the sand and limestone far below my feet. It’s been briny ever since they capped off the wells on this property over 60 years ago.

As I write this, propped up in Grandma and Pop-Pop’s bed, the window is cracked open just enough so I can hear the soft gurgle of the creek beneath the bedroom window. You don’t really have to have the window open to feel the wind blowing outside. All you need to do is stand near the front or back door and hold out your hand. The wind blows around the edges quite easily.

A thought has been nagging me for a week till I finally figured it out. My grandma died 20 years ago March 2nd. It is so hard to believe she has been gone so long and I miss her every day. I think that’s one reason I love this farm so much. I know SHE loved it, and I loved her. This is where I feel closest to her.

Ok, so…I didn’t get as much done yesterday as I would have liked. That’s ok…my heart is full and my spirit is warmed by the rich memories these walls hold for me. I’ll take getting recharged here over stressing about edits…any day of the week. Today will be another day and I can start refreshed…coffee in hand…warmth in my heart. ❤️

““But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen. Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”
Deuteronomy 4:9 NLT

March Forth

Mon, 04 Mar 2019 02:30:33 -0600

“March forth on March 4th!”

One of the benefits of being 65 is hindsight. I look back over my life and see a mishmash of events and situations that have led me to the exact spot where I stand today. Any decision along the way could have taken me in an entirely different direction. What if I hadn’t had the two marriages that ended in divorce? I wouldn’t have these beautiful daughters that have blessed my life so tremendously. I wouldn’t have Big and Little to make my heart sing. I wouldn’t have the in-laws and extended families that come with marriages. I wouldn’t have the lessons I learned through it all.

Each decision brought the next circumstance. While the second divorce was the worst because it was the longest marriage…if we hadn’t parted company, I never would have met Mr. Virgo. He helped me to believe in myself. He taught me so much about life and unconditional love. I tell people he taught me how to live without him by showing me I am much stronger than I ever believed. And then he died.

I can’t help but look back over the past nearly six years since Mr. Virgo died and marvel at the resilience of the human heart. I was battered, crushed, totally broken when he died. And bit by bit, I picked up the pieces of my broken self and handed them to God to hold. They cut me when I tried to hang on to them. He faithfully, diligently stitched the pieces back together, making sure I resembled who I was before but knowing he couldn’t make a carbon copy.

Faith. Hebrews 11:1 says “…faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” It wasn’t just my heart God stitched back together. He instilled in me…hope. When it was 3:00am and I was clinging to the edge of the mattress hoping to just get through the night, He whispered hope. When I cried till I couldn’t breathe…He whispered hope. He breathed hope into my life every single day so that I could find the strength to march forth into the next day, and the next, and the next.

It’s been 2,182 days I’ve marched forth. I have friends who are on day 4…day 21…day 93. My heart hurts for them. I want them to understand, I know it hurts. And I know you think you will never survive this or feel joy again. I let God carry the sharp bits for a long time. I handed the pieces over and asked Him to start stitching. I let Him breathe hope into the dark places. That’s how I got through.

Here I am…happily married again. The size of my family has literally doubled. So has my joy…and my faith. ❤️

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1 KJV

Writing and Praying

Wed, 27 Feb 2019 02:30:39 -0600

“Prayers, Praises, and Persistence”

I was a little worried when I went out to TOW-Wanda yesterday morning. Were the words going to come? Or was I going to hit another roadblock like I did Monday? I gathered my gear, grabbed my coffee, kissed Mr. FixIt, and headed to “the office”.

Once the furnace was on, I slipped out of my shoes and climbed into my little writing nook. I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and figure out a plan of action. Holding the warm coffee between my hands, I closed my eyes and prayed.

“Lord, thank you for all these words you’ve been sending me. Thank you for this comfortable place to write in and call my own. Thank you for trusting me to be your hands. Lord, I’m not sure what happened yesterday. My friend Gail says you were just giving me a day of rest. Whatever it was, Lord…please make me a vessel. Use me in whatever way you can. I promise I’ll do what you say. Amen”

I sipped my coffee and was about to open the document app and resume writing the book when I felt the nudge.

“Find your verse.”

This is something I do when I want to hear personally from God. When I’m having a specific issue, I ask God to help me find my verse…the one he speaks through. If I have my bible, i just open it to the spot that feels right, close my eyes, and point. That is my verse, and 99.9% of the time, it speaks to me directly regarding whatever issue it is I’m dealing with. I can do the same thing with the app.

When I opened my app yesterday, chose a book, then chose a chapter, the Parable of the Persistent Widow came up. I kid you not. I took one look at it and laughed with glee.

“Awwww, Jesus…you are SO good. Would you look at that? How do you expect people to believe this?”

It’s true. The parable was told to the Disciples to remind them to pray and to never give up. You can’t make this stuff up…he answered me right there. So, I prayed again.

“Ok, Lord…here I am praying and I’m never going to give up. I just feel like I’m supposed to be going somewhere with this book but I’ve lost my direction. I’m giving it back to you. Guide me where you want this to go.”

Just then a dear friend texted me and asked me to give her a call. She said, “I just want to tell you how proud I am of you. You’ve been talking with God. AND…you’ve also been listening to the Holy Spirit as he guides you through your book. You’re doing a great job. Keep it up!”

Sometimes I wonder if other people can hear my chin hit the floor as much as I can. Not only did he send me a scripture saying “Keep praying! Never give up!” He nudged a friend to reach out and say, “You’re doing a great job. Thanks for listening to the Holy Spirit!” Hokey smokes!

I scrolled back and found the exact spot where I went off the rails. I highlighted the words from that point to the end, cut, and pasted them into a new document I entitled “Extras” and saved it. I’m not going to throw those 12,000 words. They may come in handy in another book. I’m back to 52,422 words with a goal of 60,000 to 80,000. I also have a Mission Statement for my book so I know more specifically what to ask for.

I don’t want to overwhelm you with God stories each and every day. There are days when other topics seep in, but even then, the underlying story is how God works into it. I also know the timbre of my writing has changed. But, when something so profound gets set down on a platter in front of me, how can I NOT share that? I still shake my head when things like this happen, even though I absolutely KNOW where it comes from. So, here’s my Worship Wednesday post! ❤️

“One day Jesus told his disciples a story to show that they should always pray and never give up. “There was a judge in a certain city,” he said, “who neither feared God nor cared about people. A widow of that city came to him repeatedly, saying, ‘Give me justice in this dispute with my enemy.’ The judge ignored her for a while, but finally he said to himself, ‘I don’t fear God or care about people, but this woman is driving me crazy. I’m going to see that she gets justice, because she is wearing me out with her constant requests!’” Then the Lord said, “Learn a lesson from this unjust judge. Even he rendered a just decision in the end. So don’t you think God will surely give justice to his chosen people who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will grant justice to them quickly! But when the Son of Man returns, how many will he find on the earth who have faith?””
Luke 18:1-8 NLT

Memories

Mon, 18 Feb 2019 02:30:54 -0600

“Mother Earth News was my manual for a good life.”

Daughter #1 texted me this photo yesterday of Mother Earth News magazine. She said “I didn’t know they still published this.” I looked at the text and smiled. It hit my “mom feels” for a number of reasons.

First, because I just wrote in my book the other day about a time when the Mother Earth News magazine was a huge part of my life. Second, because she remembered it. And lastly….she is a very busy adult, teaches full time and moms my two beautiful granddaughters and lives in Colorado…we don’t get to share moments like this very often.

I was a frustrated farm girl in the big city of Denver while my husband was in medical school. I read Mother Earth News like an instruction manual for life. I baked our bread, made homemade granola, yogurt, and even tofu. I canned fruits and vegetables, made jams, jellies, relishes and pickles. I would have raised chickens if city ordinances would have allowed it back then. When we bought our first home on two acres, I set out to make it a little farm. That didn’t really work out so well because of the semi-arid climate. But I certainly had fun trying.

The fact that my daughter remembered my penchant for this magazine just tickled me to no end for some reason. It helped me reach back across time to her youth. It was a hundred lifetimes ago…and it was just yesterday. It’s the simple things that bring the most joy, isn’t it? ❤️

“Also take with you every sort of food that is eaten, and store it up. It shall serve as food for you and for them."”
Genesis 6:21 ESV

Another Peaceful Day

Sun, 17 Feb 2019 02:30:01 -0600

“Deer grazing outside my window in TOW-Wanda.”

I have now spent eight out of the last ten days in TOW-Wanda and I have to tell you…I feel like a million bucks! Usually by this time of year, I’m ready to pull my hair out with boredom. I usually become less content with each passing day, even though the daylight is becoming longer…the long, dark nights shorter. The only two things I have done differently this year is leave the tree up and spend long hours in my camper.

There is a reason girl campers like their little houses on wheels. They offer us a safe sanctuary in which to create. Some of us haul our sewing machines out to the camper in the fall and sit out there happily sewing quilts, clothes for the grandkids, linens for the home, gifts for family and friends. Some knit and crochet, weaving prayers and stories into their creations. Some cross-stitch or needlepoint, creating marvelous pictures from colorful threads.

Some gather friends to join us for tea or drinks, showing off our fancy little playhouses. Some have sleepovers with the grandchildren, bringing up the next generation to adore our little campers in the same way we have. There are as many different varieties of girl campers as there are travel trailers and we celebrate each and every one of them every time we tow.

Me? Well, as you well know…and I’ve told you repeatedly this week…I write in TOW-Wanda every chance I get. I turn on Pandora, find the Nature Sounds channel, and listen to raucous rainstorms, salient sea breezes, flighty feathered friends chirping in the forests. I’m instantly transported from the chill of wintery West Virginia into another place, another time. My little twinkle lights glow above me…the view out the windows revealing a stoic blue heron near the creek or a browsing herd of deer making their way across the lawn. Yesterday, I watched the moonrise over the hills to the east of the Ponderosa and I counted my blessings in that very moment.

I’ve written 30,560 words on my book as of last evening. Words that take me to corners of my mind I sometimes wish were never there. And to places and times that I cherish dearly. These words stir something in me…always. But they are just feelings now. They aren’t happening in this moment. That’s how I keep them from poking me now with little barbs…trolls with sharp sticks…fairies with tiny wands…giants with hammers. They aren’t happening now and God is bigger than any poking thing in our lives.

30,560….encouraging words, painful words, funny words, sad words, terrifying words, loving words. This thing is happening! ❤️

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

On Loving...Unconditionally

Thu, 14 Feb 2019 02:30:27 -0600

“I am a Christian AND I love everyone… unconditionally.”

The other day, a West Virginia delegate made a series of ugly and disparaging comments about the LGBTQ community. He compared them to terrorists and the Ku Klux Klan. He was interviewed later and given an opportunity to clarify his position, and it was actually SO much worse than what was originally reported. When asked what he would do if his son or daughter came home and told him they were gay, the delegate said if it was his daughter, he would take her for a pedicure. If it was his son, he would take him hunting. And if, upon their return, they still said they were gay…he would take them out and “see if they could swim”. The interviewer was aghast and asked, “Are you saying, you would take them out and try to drown them???” He just looked at her with a sinister grin and didn’t answer.

I was sickened, on so many levels. First and foremost, that he has this kind of hatred in his heart and calls himself a Christian. Second, that he would turn away from his children, or worse…do them physical harm. And, finally…it HAD to be a West Virginian. Why did he have to come from MY state? The answer is, because there are people like him in every state.

Here of late, I have been so uplifted and fortified by my faith, I have been shouting “Hallelujah!” from the rooftops. And that’s how I feel…excited by the ways I see God move in my life. Excited about the opportunities to share my stories of his love and provenance. Then, this week…I received this wedding invitation. And I was reminded, I may be giving people the wrong idea about who I am in my faith.

Some people may equate my bold Christian joy with the kind of person who denigrates those who are unlike them, like that delegate from West Virginia. Nothing could be further from the truth. I do not discriminate against anyone. I’m not perfect, but I certainly try to emulate Jesus at every turn. He loves everyone. He does not see people from the outside. He looks at their hearts. After raising my daughters in the Jewish faith, I was appalled when Daughter #2 came home from school crying because the kids called her a “stupid f****** Jew”. I held her close and tried to explain ignorance and intolerance and bigotry. It broke my heart.

I respect all faiths, save for those who kill people in the name of their god. I respect all people, save for those who kill or maim or injure children or animals. When I raise my voice in praise for Jesus, I don’t want it to exclude my love for others who don’t believe as I do. I don’t want to walk ahead of and ignore the one who is still looking for God. I don’t want the Muslims and the Jews and the Seiks and the Hindus and even the atheists…anyone of any faith…to think I do not love them equally. I look for, and see, the God in all people. That divine spark that comes from somewhere far beyond the stars. That sign of something far greater than any of us here.

I also embrace the LGBTQ community as my fellow human beings, who house that same divine spark as me. It is not my place to judge anyone…not even that delegate from West Virginia. Everyone will be judged by their maker in the end. It’s not my job. At the same time, I’m going to tell you about this amazing Jesus who rules my life. And, I’m going to show you, as best I can by the way that I live, how a good and loving and forgiving Father has changed me. The two can, and in my humble opinion SHOULD walk hand in hand.

Because, you see…that wedding invitation we got in the mail this week? That’s from Daughter #2 and her fiancée…a very kind and loving woman who has helped my baby become a better version of herself. They are getting married in Colorado in August. They love each other completely… unconditionally. How can I not do the same with both of them? This is my child. We love who we love. It is not my place to judge. You may do what you wish, but I do pray I will always, always, always land on the side of love. Because that is the way Jesus loves me.

***If you don’t agree with me, that’s ok…I won’t judge you either. I know this is a hot topic for some, but this is my house, my rules. We speak with respect here. This is a case where we’ll take my grandma’s advise…”If we can’t say anything nice, we won’t say anything at all.” ❤️

“As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.”
Romans 14:1-4 ESV

I Need That Joy...

Wed, 06 Feb 2019 02:30:12 -0600

“I Need That Joy…down in my heart!”

I love, love, love the way God works in my life! It’s like an elaborately woven tapestry with bright colors here and dark colors there…never seeing what’s developing in the picture till you get some perspective. That’s when you start to see how this thread that was pulled over here is causing that thread to move over there. And then you see…you really SEE. And you know beyond a shadow of a doubt…it is GOD!

Case in point. We were standing in the lobby Sunday waiting for the doors to open and head into church. I was talking with my step-daughter about my blog and how my spiritual walk began to blossom within it. I explained how the enemy really started attacking me when I opened up my heart and started praising God in my writing and adding scripture to my posts. I attended my very first Revival and was baptized in the Spirit which took things to a whole new level. Pastor Matt told us one night to take back our homes and our properties and to banish the enemy from the premises. The next morning, I got Grandma’s old bible from the buffet and walked around the perimeter of the yard, hands outstretched, shouting praises without shame. I informed the enemy he had no dominion over me or my house and I showed him the boundary. It’s one of my favorite stories and it was the first time I had shared it with my bonus family.

Soon, we went into the sanctuary and were seated. Pastor Justin gave a wonderful sermon about patience. At one point, he started getting animated and talked about banishing the enemy from our homes and properties. I sat back and smiled and thought, “Here it comes!” He went on to say, “Take your bibles and walk around the perimeter of your property and send the devil packing!” My step-daughter and I whipped around and looked at each other, mouths gaped open, and laughed out loud. I love it when that happens. And when you are attuned, it happens a lot. You just have to pay attention. I was so glad God showed them he was there!

I told you earlier this year new things were coming. I still can’t talk about the specifics yet, but I knew there were a couple of associations I had to sever before I could move forward into the new project. I’ve waffled, I have to admit. Because a “bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”, as my grandma used to say. I prayed about it and told God I put all my trust in him and I know he will open the new doors where he wants me to go. I hit “send” on the last e-mail and immediately, Spirit told me to turn on the Christian radio station I was listening to earlier in the day. I did, and the worship song “Joy” by King & Country came on. Now, I’ve never heard that song, but listen carefully to the lyrics and you will hear God saying, “Yes! Things were critical and you made a choice. Now…feel the JOY!”

Wow…these kinds of things really pump me up! My body was humming like I was plugged into an outlet. And, in all actuality, I was. I was getting recharged by the Holy Spirit. I couldn’t help but feel that “joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart!” More to come down the road as the journey continues. ❤️

youtu.be/lA7n7TwPD…

“Clap your hands, all peoples! Shout to God with loud songs of joy!”
Psalms 47:1 ESV

Happy Mind, Happy Life

Tue, 05 Feb 2019 02:30:06 -0600

“Making the little things count, because the little things add up to be the BIG thing!”

Yesterday was a really great day! First of all…the sun was shining and we had a high of 68 degrees here in West Virginia. A difference of over seventy degrees in three days…and Mr. FixIt has a sore throat. sigh I’m hitting him with Zinc and Vitamin C. And prayers!

I met a friend for coffee yesterday at the new Starbucks. Sue is a budding artist and she gifted me a watercolor of a little bluebird. She knows how much I love them. For Christmas, I gave her a pair of socks that I knitted and she wanted to give me something special. I’ve had it sitting near me all day and it’s so sweet.

The other day, when I learned Mr. FixIt’s family was going to join us at church, I made us each a notebook. It has three sections…a planner, a place for prayers and praises, and a section for sermon notes. I’ve always said I was going to take notes during the service and this was the perfect time to prepare.

Happy Mind, Happy Life…

My bonus granddaughter and I were talking about that just the other day. We were talking about the images we look at. You can never “unsee” something. And the things we choose to put in front of us for visual consumption changes us. It changes our brains. It changes how we see the world and how we see ourselves. We have to be ever watchful with what we choose to feed our minds because “we are what we eat.”

When I came in from sitting in the sun yesterday afternoon, I asked Alexa to play Contemporary Christian music. As I picked up my knitting, I let the uplifting music wash over me and fill me with the Joy of the Lord. My heart rose with the swell of the music…my skin still warm from the sun…my spirit still stirred from Sunday’s service. It’s good that we carry that image with us into the week. The image of God and the Word and Love and Fellowship and Goodness and Family. These are the things I choose as my Daily Bread. These are the things that I will fill myself with. ❤️

“Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—”
1 Peter 2:2 ESV

What Do You Call A Knit Cap?

Sun, 03 Feb 2019 02:30:52 -0600

“Toboggan. A knit cap, or a sled? Turns out…it’s both!”

The cold weather this week brought lots of images to Facebook and lots of memories of my winters past. One picture in particular reminded me of the drafty old farmhouse Hubby #2 and I lived in when he was doing his internship and residency. It was on a busy street in east Denver, surrounded by newer houses. I learned it was the original farmhouse before the land was sold off and the resulting neighborhood developed around it.

The house was a bungalow type, built of tan brick. It had the original double-hung windows, single pane with the wavy glass of old. A large covered front porch ran the entire width of the house. A large tree sat in the corner of the front yard…a bank lead down to the front sidewalk. The house had only one real bedroom, which we gave to my daughter. We slept on the sunporch at the back of the house.

There was little, if any insulation in that house. A Petit Godin parlor stove sat in the living room. I burned coal when I could get it…much to the neighbor’s dismay. Eventually I resorted to a Kero-Sun stove in the middle of the living room. It heated up the living space to some degree, but I was really afraid to let it burn kerosene all night unattended.

We had no money. I was working full time as an x-ray tech and medical assistant for a busy four doctor clinic about a half mile away, doing my best to support the family while my husband was in training. There were times I had to use my Sears charge card to buy Hickory Farms gift boxes of summer sausage and cheese in order to eat.

Someone posted a picture of frost on the inside of a corner of their house last week and I sent it to my daughter. I asked her if she remembered sleeping in her thick, footie jammies with a toboggan on her head to keep her warm. Some of my friends in Colorado had no idea what I was talking about. How could a sled keep my daughter warm at night?

I had to laugh. I grew up calling knit caps “toboggans”. As a matter of fact, when I first moved to Colorado, I couldn’t understand what people were talking about when they talked about taking their toboggan out and riding it in the snow. It took a while before I figured out it was a different kind of sled with a curled front on it. I had never seen one before I moved out west. Somewhere around 1929, the term toboggan (from the French Canadian “tabaganne”) which was indeed a sled. The knit cap became a “toboggan cap” and eventually “cap” was dropped. The word is typically used in the south and the Appalachian mountains.

I am the first to admit…I’m a bit of a word snob. When I was growing up, my mom bought me a set of encyclopedias, one a week, as bonuses at the grocery store. I read those, as well as the dictionary, when I ran out of books to read. I love words. They say when you write for public consumption, you should write at about an eighth grade level. I never agreed with that. I think we should all stretch our knowledge and learn new words. As a matter of fact, I have the “Word of the Day” from the dictionary app feed me new words every day. Sometimes I throw them in here just for fun.

There are different words for things in different areas of the country. West Virginia has a lot of colloquial phrases that have me scratching my head sometimes, if not outright gritting my teeth. Mr. FixIt is an educated man, but he a) grew up here and b) worked his entire career in a factory. I sometimes have to ask him what the heck he’s talking about.

Not only are there different words, but different pronunciations. English is a quirky language anyway. Add an accent and it can complicate things. Here in West Virginia, you might hear “crick” for creek or “boosh” for bush or “poosh” for push. Roof is often pronounced with a long oooo sound. The one that sets my teeth on edge is “‘fer I kin”….as in, “I need to get the saw fer I kin cut that board.” It stems from old English. “Before I can” originated as “afore I kin” and became the more colloquial “‘fer I kin”. There’s “over yonder”. A “pretty fur piece” has nothing to do with an animal pelt and every thing to do with how far it is to a particular destination.

What are some words that are pronounced differently where you live? ❤️

“Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.”
Proverbs 16:24 ESV

Building up my Stash

Sun, 27 Jan 2019 02:30:49 -0600

“Eighteen hand-knit cotton dishclothes are perfect for impromptu gifts.”

Yesterday was a decompression day. Taking care of and loving on lots of people this week left me needing a day that was all about me, for the most part. I’m almost finished with the cotton yarn I bought to knit dishcloths. There’s probably enough to make a couple more. I have eighteen in my stash. I like having these around for impromptu gift giving. I also get a bar of lavender soap every time my doTerra order comes around and I don’t need vitamins. I put these things all away to have ready for birthdays and hostess gifts.

I have this whole bonus family through marrying Mr. FixIt and I am thrilled to say the grandkids are going to church with me today! Mr. FixIt and I will go at noon then when he bowls this evening, I’ll take the grandkids with me and treat them out to dinner after church. I wanted to spend some quality time alone with them. Bonding time is important in step-families…even when the kids are all grown up. I’m so excited…I can hardly wait!

I told you I would let you know if I slept well again when I practiced handing everything over to God before bed. Well, I did and it was amazing how fast I fell asleep…and stayed asleep all night. I think I’m onto something here!

We haven’t been to church for two weeks because of bad weather. I can hardly wait to get there today…twice! Have a blessed Sunday, dear ones. I’ll see you this evening for Sunday Night Prayer Circle. ❤️

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.”
Proverbs 17:6 NIV

Happy Feet

Sat, 26 Jan 2019 02:30:46 -0600

“I love my new Happy Camper Slippers!”

My new slippers arrived yesterday! Yes…I had to have them. They are so cute and comfy. And they make me smile!

I’ve had an interesting week ministering to my family, loving my kids through life issues, being a mentor to the grandchildren. Missing the Colorado family. Sharing the Gospel. And the love. It’s been a challenge AND it’s been incredibly rewarding. And, I’m totally whupped tonight as I write this.

I have had a lot on my mind this week and I haven’t slept well. So, Thursday night I did like they suggested in Goliath Will Fall. When I laid down in bed, I told God I had worked on this stuff long enough. I said, “Here, I’m giving this to you to work on tonight. I’m going to sleep.” And I did. I mean…it really worked! I slept ten hours straight. I haven’t done that in ages but I’m going to try it again. I’ll let you know how it works.

I love how my posts have been stirring people to write to me with their own stories of faith and family. I love how someone writes of a painful situation they are going through and soon, there are others who have chimed in to support them. It warms my heart that God trusts me with this ministry…to my family, to my friends, to my readers. I am grateful for all of you. And for a God that trusts someone like me with such a wonderful gift. ❤️

“But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.”
Acts 20:24 ESV

The Poet - From Darkness into Light

Sun, 20 Jan 2019 02:30:58 -0600

“Think before you speak. Read before you think.”

"maybe death isn’t darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us — as soft as feathers"
~ Mary Oliver

How I let a treasure like Mary Oliver slip through my fingers, I’ll never know. It’s an excellent example of realizing how very much I do not know. The internet has been filled with loving tributes to this gentle woman with the expansive heart…her pen trimming away the excesses of flowery verse and going straight for the pit of your stomach. Her words are like magic…painting pictures of love and kindness and tenderness. Nature was her cathedral. Poetry was her torch.

Oliver loved Whitman and Emerson, Shelley and Keats. Growing up in a dysfunctional home in Ohio, she ultimately settled in the wilds of New England, wandering through her woods and harbor…taking notes and penning phrases along the way. She has been compared to Emily Dickinson. Her poetry is filled with both darkness and joyous light. Her life partner, Molly Malone Cook, was her constant companion for over forty years, as well as her literary agent. After Molly’s death in 2005, Oliver continued on in Provincetown, Massachusetts until finally relocating to Florida. She rarely gave interviews because she valued her personal privacy and wished for her work to speak for itself. Mary Jane Oliver passed away on January 17, 2019 of lymphoma. And the world lost a valuable treasure.

In researching Oliver’s work, I became introspective. How often do we think, once we have arrived at “a certain age”, that we somehow have attained a level of knowledge that we can, at the very least, term “well rounded”? I know a little bit about a lot of stuff, but there is SO much out there I haven’t a clue about. We cannot possibly learn everything, but how sad that I didn’t know Mary Oliver and her brilliant poetry during times in my life it might have soothed my heart. How joyful that I still have the opportunities to continue learning and growing.

We are but a sum of our life’s experiences, are we not? The other night, I had a troubling dream. A recurring dream about a hopeless situation which will never be resolved nor totally understood. Not in this lifetime anyway. And whenever I have this dream, I am left feeling an ache in my heart…bereft over a loss I had little control over. It leaves me out of sorts for days and colors my every interaction, thus leaving the stains of old hurts smeared onto others who have no knowledge of my pain. It’s unfair and senseless. As I drove to town yesterday, I had a conversation with God. I asked Him to please step in and be an intermediary…to block this dream, and even the thoughts of the events that precipitate it. To take away the memories that come back and haunt me year after year. As I pleaded with God, I literally felt the old, familiar ache physically leave my heart. A weight was lifted and the cloud in my mind dissipated. I immediately thanked Him. Then…I let it go.

Poetry. Prose. Words. Prayers. God. They have such power to release you from the bondage of the past…if you let them. If you feel them and taste them and speak them. They can breathe life back into the sore places of your soul. ❤️

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.”
1 Corinthians 13:1-3 ESV

German Comfort Food

Sat, 19 Jan 2019 02:30:11 -0600

“Kielbasa, kraut, and mashed potatoes…German comfort food.”

When we were having coffee yesterday morning, Mr. FixIt asked if I wanted to go to the movies in the afternoon. My mind went over the list of things that needed to be done and I politely demurred. He turned on the weather report and they’re predicting a ton of rain turning to snow over the weekend so he wisely decided to go to town and rent a snake to clear the drain out back.

We have a stairway that goes down into the basement. There is a four inch pipe in the bottom of that stairwell and it drains into a pipe that travels over a hundred yards out to the creek. About every two years, that drain needs to be snaked out so the water doesn’t back up and run into the basement. Also, there is a ditch out at the creek bank that always gets filled in when the spring runoff overflows. It’s an ugly, backbreaking job that no one likes, but it has to be done. With heavy rain in the forecast, it was best to get it over with.

We headed to town and ran some errands before we picked up the snake at the rental place. I overheard the young man who was helping Mr. FixIt lift this monstrosity into the back of his truck.

“Who’s going to help you unload this thing?”

“That little lady sitting in the front seat up there.” Mr. FixIt sounded confident and proud.

We stopped at the store on the way home and I don’t believe, even at Thanksgiving, I have ever seen so many people. The parking lot was filled. People were circling round and round. There were no carts. And the checkout lines were twenty deep. Mr. FixIt and I looked at each other like, “What the heck?”

“They’re predicting snow!” I said. “Let the games begin.”

I told him to just drive around and I’d be back out in a jiffy. As I headed into the store, the line from Hunger Games went through my mind.

“May the odds be ever in your favor!”

I scooted to the back and bought the two items I needed. Non-alcohol beer and a chuck roast. I’m easy. I waited two minutes and hit the self-checkout and was out the door in a flash. There were people in there with multiple jugs of milk and loaves of bread…as if they were anticipating being stuck in their homes for weeks. When we stopped at the discount grocer earlier, I planned ahead by buying an extra bag of flour in case I got a hankerin’ to bake something. It’s crazy what a snow forecast does in West Virginia. It’s a good thing it’s the weekend. I’ve seen them cancel school based on a forecast.

I used to kind of think these people were weenies when they cancelled school at the first sign of snow. After all, I lived in Colorado for forty years. If you don’t get out and go someplace when it snows, you’re going to be stuck in your house from October to May. But I’ve got to say, in these people’s defense, driving here in winter is NOTHING like Colorado. There, you can drive 55 in a whiteout blizzard, not that you SHOULD. Here, you don’t dare touch your brakes going 25 or you’ll be in a ditch in a heartbeat. The roads are twisty-turny and hilly. And they have this thing called black ice. It looks the same as wet pavement and it’s deadly. I get it now…people don’t want to go out in it. And school busses have no business hauling our babes through it if it can be prevented.

When we got home, I had to help Mr. FixIt unload that drain snake. I am telling you what…that sucker was HEAVY. Fortunately it’s on wheels so when we got it out of the truck all we had to do was wheel it to the back stairwell. Then we had to walk it down the stairs. Oy! Once it was down there, I went on inside and Mr. FixIt got to work. After some time, I didn’t hear the machine anymore so I went to see how he was doing. I found him out at the creek bank digging out the ditch. Living on five acres without city sewer isn’t always easy. That was a lot of hard work. I helped him get the contraption back up the steps and into the bed of the truck.

“You’re a hard worker,” he said.

“Thanks for telling me that, but you’re the one who did the tough stuff. I’ll fix you some supper while you clean up.” I smiled as I patted his bum when I walked by.

German comfort food seemed to be the perfect meal for the hard workers last night. I boiled kielbasa to leach out some of the salt then tossed it in a skillet with some melted butter. I drained the sauerkraut and added it to the skillet, stirring occasionally so it would brown but not burn. I made mashed potatoes and served the kielbasa/kraut mixture on top. Oh, it was heavenly! It was a good day’s work and that is so satisfying. ❤️

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!”
Psalms 90:17 ESV

Finding the Right Tools

Fri, 18 Jan 2019 02:30:23 -0600

“Having the right tool leads to success.”

Good communication skills have not always been my strongest suit. For years, I was afraid to speak up for fear of judgement and rocking the boat. That changed with Mr. Virgo and I’ve honed the skill with Mr. FixIt. Yesterday I told you he was being a little stingy with his power tools. So, that night, instead of stewing over it, I just pointed out that I like power tools, too. He smiled and said he just wasn’t used to women who know how to do things like that. I understand that. Not all women can, or even want to, operate power tools.

Yesterday, we needed to build another brace at the other end of the bathroom floor. That is where you attach two short pieces of 2x4 to a long piece in an “H” fashion and fasten it between the floor joists to support the new floor above. This end of the floor is located directly over the washer and dryer. It’s an awkward position to stand on a ladder and it was impossible for Mr. FixIt to get up in there, so I climbed up on the washer and dryer and fastened the new boards in with three inch wood screws.

I don’t know if you have ever held a drill at an awkward angle, over your head, and tried to hold enough pressure to keep the bit from slipping in the head of the screw, but I assure you it’s not easy. The first two screws stripped immediately. So I did what I always do…I talked to Jesus. I asked him to help me get this job done and the screws went in easily as I kept saying “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” When it got really difficult, Mr. FixIt just reached up and held the end of the drill and it worked like butter.

When you face the tough things in life, you need the right tools for the job. We had the right wood screws. We had the right drill and bit and a fully charged battery. We had proper lighting and ladders. We had mutual support and trust. And we had Jesus standing in between us. We can call on Him to help us with the most mundane of tasks. My shoulders relaxed and I put all my focus and force on the task at hand and was successful. The right tools for the job…it’s what creates success. ❤️

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
Hebrews 4:16 ESV

Little Vintage Campers

Wed, 16 Jan 2019 02:30:55 -0600

“Little vintage campers…how many people were IN this thing?”

Yesterday, Mr. FixIt and I were having breakfast when he picked up his phone to show me something. He watches Facebook Marketplace closely because, you know, you never know when you might need one more thing, right? Anyway, there was an ad in there for a 1969 Shasta Compact camper. Swoon! Anyone who knows anything about campers knows Shasta is kind of a status symbol for campers. This particular one was being converted into a food trailer, but it’s too small for the job so the people are trying to unload it. It’s gutted already, no leaks, towable, new tires, and only $500. Not bad.

We contacted the gal and as one might imagine, she already has people coming to look at it, so the chance of me even getting to see it are pretty slim. And, like I need another project! Anyway, if I get to see it, I’ll take pics and show you.

Thinking about tiny little campers got me to looking at vintage camping art and photos. Look at this tiny little camper. Now, look at how many people there are camping. Wow! It’s like one of those clown cars where clowns keep coming out one after another! Cars were a lot heavier and more powerful back then so you would see the family car pulling a really big trailer. Do you remember the movie Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz made called The Long, Long, Long Trailer? It was huge but they pulled it with a convertible!

I never camped as a kid, but I remember going over to a friend’s house and they had a camper. Us kids were allowed to go in it and use it like a playhouse. I remember being absolutely mesmerized by it and I wanted one in the worst way. I was always married to non-campers till Mr. FixIt came along. Now we have four campers between us and I am preparing to convert an old minivan into a mini campervan. Oh yeah…I REALLY need another camper! ?‍♀️

❤️

“For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, 'This man began to build and was not able to finish.'”
Luke 14:28-30 ESV

The Difference Between “With” and “Without”

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

“The Difference Between With and Without”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a Winter Tree, Ok?

Fri, 11 Jan 2019 02:30:14 -0600

“My Winter Tree reflecting in the window as the snow falls outside.”

I went to small group last night and the leader apologized as we walked into the family room. The tree was still up.

“It’s a Winter Tree. I like it.”

You don’t have to sell me, sister! I love my tree and I’m not planning to take it down any time soon. Kathy and one of her granddaughters took all the colored ornaments off her tree and put up all white ornaments. Yeah. No….I’m not that picky. As long as it has all white lights and it’s pretty, that puppy is staying right where it is…no apologies needed.

I was the first to arrive at Bible study. A new gal, Michelle, joined us and arrived just after me. We sat near each other and chatted as I knitted, cozy under a comfy throw in front of the fire. When I told Michelle about the farm and where it was, she said she had family from out that way. I asked what the last name was and she rattled off my grandparents’ last name! Two questions later and I knew exactly where she fit in the family. What a treat to get caught up with that bunch. They were related through one of my Pop-Pop’s brothers.

I’d say it is a small world, but it’s the hills of West Virginia. If we aren’t related to you, hang on a little bit. There’s still single folks gettin’ married. This is what I always missed…what I always searched for in Colorado. I can’t tell you how many times I actually followed people with WV license plates just to hear their accents and see if I knew them. Oh, I missed home every day that I lived out west.

When we stay at Mr. FixIt’s house, we are in the county between the one I grew up in and the one where grandma’s farm is located. I don’t know very many people here. Mr. FixIt, however, has lived in his house since 1979. He knows EV-RY-ONE! Seriously. He’ll run into town for a quick errand and come back three hours later because he ran into five people he hadn’t seen in a coon’s age. I can’t get frustrated about it either because it’s the life I’ve always wanted.

It was a good day. ❤️

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”
Hebrews 10:24-25 NIV

Johnny & Jaxx...A Story of Devotion

Thu, 10 Jan 2019 02:30:03 -0600

“Rosie (L), Jaxx (C), and Johnny Boy (R) celebrate Johnny’s 4th Gotcha Day!”

We talk a lot here about death and dying, loss and grief. We talk about losing our parents…aunts…uncles…cousins, our siblings, our children, our friends, and our spouses. We don’t talk a whole lot here about when we lose our beloved fur-babies…those wonderful fur-covered angels that grace us with their presence for a few short years, only to be yanked away far, far too soon.

Losing our beloved pets affects most of us the same way as losing a human member of the family. Our hearts break. We grieve. We are lost. We get the same brain fog. The same yearning. If you are an animal lover and have ever been fortunate enough to share your life with a companion animal, then you know what I am saying is true.

“Johnny Boy arrived so sick with Parvovirus we didn’t think he would live.”

My first dog as an adult was an Aussie/Blue Heeler mix named Boofer. She was brilliant. The only dog I truly did not have to train. I just talked to her and she knew exactly what I wanted from her. And she would do her level best to please me. She had to be put down at the young age of seven after a diagnosis of a pituitary tumor. We managed her symptoms with medication as long as we could but when she went blind, it was time to set her free.

Animal owners know their time with their fur-babies is limited. Boofer was gone too soon. Old Mama Kitty was at least 23-24 years old. Sidney was 14…a big, goofy black lab who owned my heart during a really dark period of my life. Mr. Virgo showed up with a 10-year-old Yorkie/Maltese mix named Cricket who lived to be seventeen. She died just three months before Mr. Virgo did. That was my last dog. I just didn’t have it in me to do it again and my lifestyle isn’t conducive to pet ownership.

“Johnny Boy is absolutely CRAZY over kittens! He has to have one…always!”

My friend Aimee is the Grande Dame of animal rescues. If it moves and squeaks, oinks, meows, moos, neighs, or barks…Aimee has to bring it home. Her husband rolls his eyes when another goat or chicken or rabbit or puppy makes an appearance at their West Virginia homestead. It’s all a show…he adores Aimee and if she needs to rescue another dog, she rescues another dog. As she says…she married well.

Four years ago, Aimee fostered little Johnny Boy…a mastiff-boxer mix who was dreadfully thin. They soon found he was also dreadfully sick. Johnny nearly died….several times…of parvovirus and parasites and any number of problems. They went to every length to save this little guy’s life. When he got through the initial illness, Johnny Boy started having trouble walking. His joints became swollen and painful. They finally discovered he had a very rare disease of the epiphyseal joints in his legs. After a trip to the State Veterinary School in Columbus, a treatment was finally found and Johnny boy began to thrive and grow.

Then, just before the holidays, Aimee found hundreds of little bumps under Johnny’s skin. Again, Johnny Boy does nothing halfway and it took quite some doing to get a diagnosis. When they did, it was not good. It was a rare cancer and there is nothing they can do for him. So, Aimee decided Johnny Boy’s end of life would include the very best days ever.

“Johnny & Jaxx…BFF’s Forever!”

A few months ago, Johnny’s BFF…Jaxx…moved to Florida with his human person. And Johnny was devastated. When they found out Johnny Boy doesn’t have a long time to live, Jaxx’s owner drove him from Florida and left him in Aimee’s care for as long as Johnny needs him. Johnny and Jaxx are insanely bonded. I mean…they FaceTime each other. Seriously!

The other night, Aimee threw Johnny Boy a four year “Gotcha Party” to celebrate and Johnny, Jaxx, and Rosie donned their party hats and sat in the little chairs around the table. They ate scrambled eggs for supper and had Pupcake for dessert. I loved watching the video!

Aimee posted a video yesterday that shows Johnny having a little trouble breathing. His type of tumor releases histamines and they make his nasal passages swell which in turn makes it difficult to breathe. She knows this is the beginning of the end. And, trust me, she will never let Johnny Boy suffer. When it is his time, she will let him go peacefully. In the meantime, she suffers the anticipatory grief knowing Johnny’s time on earth is short. Yet, she shares him with us…and with Jaxx. I SO love this crazy mutt who came in and stole all our hearts and showed us what loving a rescue is all about. He truly is made of love and sunshine. ❤️

“The righteous care for the needs of their animals, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.”
Proverbs 12:10 NIV

Into the Light

Wed, 09 Jan 2019 02:30:10 -0600

“For He called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9

I’ve kind of had a theme going here the last few days given the time of year it is. I still sometimes sit in awe when I look back to where I was nearly twenty years ago. This is how we know how far we’ve come…by looking back in wonder. I struggled so long with a spirit of depression. When the veil lifted and I walked back into the light, it was surreal. Supernatural. Which is exactly what it was, this lifting.

I am always consciously monitoring my mental state in the winter. I never, ever want to go back to that dark place again, so I carefully check myself often. Am I keeping up with personal hygiene? It’s one of the first things to slip. Am I sleeping too much? Not enough? How’s my temper? I get cranky when I get blue. Am I comforting myself with food? Am I eating out of boredom? Am I getting out and doing fun things and engaging with people? These are all problem areas and can signal depression.

We had the fourth day in a row of warmth and sunshine yesterday. As a matter of fact, it was 64 late yesterday afternoon. The sun peeked in and out all day. It was glorious. I went out to visit TOW-Wanda. I plugged her in to charge up the batteries. She needs a good cleaning. I had company in there during the wedding and I never really cleaned much after that. One thing that really lifts my mood in the winter is to spend a couple of days in the camper, so I’m getting her fixed up.

Being prepared for the grey days of winter can go a long way in warding off the blues. Keeping healthy foods in the house and limiting sweet snacks helps you make good choices when you want to cozy in with a bag of chips or a plate of brownies. Chilled, fresh oranges are sweet and juicy this time of year. If you really want a salty snack, the tiny bags of popcorn can hit the spot without overloading calories. I don’t want to count calories. I just want to remain mindful of what’s going in. And try to move more.

Cleaning out a closet or that one junk room you’ve been ignoring can lift your mood and give you a sense of accomplishment. Or, starting a new project. We just started working on the master bathroom this week. It will be fun to see that take shape. Whatever it takes to keep you from hibernating and falling into a deep, blue funk is worth the effort to put towards keeping in the light. ❤️

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.””
Deuteronomy 31:8 NIV

Transformation

Tue, 08 Jan 2019 02:30:50 -0600

“God often uses our deepest pain as the launching pad of our greatest calling.”

Grief comes in a variety of circumstances. My first experience with grief was when my Pop-Pop died just after I graduated from high school. I was devastated. I lost a job I desperately needed when Hubby #2 was in his first year of Medical School. The rehab center where I worked was experiencing some financial difficulties and I was let go. I felt it was personal until the next month when fifty more staff members were given their walking papers. I guess misery DOES love company. I grieved deeply over that loss because I loved the job, for one thing. For another, I was young and had never experienced anything like that. My next major grief experience was the overdose and subsequent loss of my marriage and the alienation of my children. That was horrifying. Then I lost my grandma, my dog, and Mr. Virgo in less than a year.

Every time I’ve faced grief, I’ve thought my world would end. I couldn’t figure out how to live after those losses. And every time, I survived. Not only survived, but eventually thrived. I learned skills from coping with grief. Grief chiseled me into the person I have become. And as painful as it was to go through, God came in and used that pain as a launching pad of my greatest calling…my mission, as it were.

I’ve been having some meetings and there are exciting changes coming in 2019. Nothing I can talk about yet, but I can see God’s hand all over it. I was talking about it with Mr. FixIt the other night and told him I’ve been praying for these exact things…I have to walk forward into this new territory. Don’t worry…I’m not going anywhere. Just more fun and excitement I can’t wait to share with you all! ❤️

“Whenever, though, they turn to face God as Moses did, God removes the veil and there they are—face-to-face! They suddenly recognize that God is a living, personal presence, not a piece of chiseled stone. And when God is personally present, a living Spirit, that old, constricting legislation is recognized as obsolete. We’re free of it! All of us! Nothing between us and God, our faces shining with the brightness of his face. And so we are transfigured much like the Messiah, our lives gradually becoming brighter and more beautiful as God enters our lives and we become like him.”
2 Corinthians 3:16-18 MSG

Thwarting a Spiritual Attack

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

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

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

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

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

“Janine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snatched From the Jaws of Death

Fri, 04 Jan 2019 02:30:51 -0600

“She was snatched from the jaws of addiction and saved by the Blood of Jesus.”

She’s just twenty-four. Yet she was addicted to heroin for six years. And occasionally she did meth. On April 14th, she overdosed on both and landed in the ICU for four days on life support. She wasn’t even out of the ER when she popped up on my radar. I’m in a small group at church with someone who knows Danielle very well. The text came in begging for prayers to save this beautiful girl.

And pray we did. Our whole church prayed for her. Actively. Daily. There were prayer warriors stationed at the hospital. There were friends and family talking with her. They wanted to connect her with someone who could help her in this fight. And they wanted Jesus in Danielle’s corner.

She resisted, as you might imagine. At first she said she’d talk to him. Then she wouldn’t. And finally, just before discharge, she relented. I’m unsure of the exact timeline, but I know it wasn’t long till this beautiful girl was saved in a parking lot with many prayers surrounding her.

The change that has come over Danielle is remarkable. When you see her today, and see the light of Jesus on her, it is so hard to imagine her shooting heroin into her veins. She has attended a faith-based residential program three times. These weren’t three dropouts. This was three separate sessions. Because, as anyone who has been set free of the demon of addiction can tell you, it’s never a one and done situation. It is a life-long learning process. And she is committed.

A couple of days ago, Danielle took a plane to Hawaii to attend discipleship training. When she arrived, her luggage was somewhere in Dallas. When she got to the campus to check in, she found out there had been a miscommunication and she was short on funds…four figures short on funds. She reached out to her church family and we raised the funds in about three hours. There is no way to hide God’s work in this. And it is so obvious the enemy doesn’t like it. He tried to throw a wrench in the works at every turn but our God is a mighty God. It wasn’t long till the enemy was put in his place.

Last night, I watched War Room. I’ve always considered myself to be…if not a prayer warrior…then at the very least, a fervent prayer. Oh, my…that movie has me planning a War Room of my own! People like Danielle remind us of the power of prayer. I am so proud of her hard work and her willingness to keep plugging at this. I can’t wait to see what she learns in discipleship training. I cant wait to see what God has in store for her! I’m so happy God plucked her from the jaws of death because I know He has plans for her…to prosper her and not to harm her. ❤️

“I must go on boasting. Although there is nothing to be gained, I will go on to visions and revelations from the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know—God knows. And I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows— was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell. I will boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses.”
2 Corinthians 12:1-5 NIV

We Rise by Lifting Others Up

Thu, 03 Jan 2019 02:30:15 -0600

“Blowing out someone else’s candle won’t make yours shine brighter. Remember that.”

Have you ever had someone in your life that went out of their way to put you down? Of course you have. We all have. I was in a long term relationship that was like that. Comments like, “You aren’t wearing THAT are you?” “Well, THAT was stupid!” These things take a toll on you after a while. It took a long time, and a great deal of therapy, to learn those things were said by a person who was egotistical but still suffered emotional injuries from a less than demonstrative childhood.

It happened with my dad. It happened with most of the men I’ve been involved with. Men who suffer so they must make YOU suffer in order to feel better about themselves. The wounds run deep.

Mr. FixIt and I have a different kind of relationship than I’ve ever experienced. I am much more free to express my feelings with him than I have been with anyone else. I think part of that is age. Part is setting the ground rules early in the relationship that we can say anything. I’m still learning how to govern that. Too much freedom and some things come out sounding unkind. Many a truth was said in jest.

We rise by lifting others up. I know from experience what that constant needling feels like and I don’t ever want my sweetheart to feel less than loved to the max. At the same time, there are moments in any relationship when you have to blow off steam. That’s fine, as long as you fight fair. Life is just so darned short. I want to really live it…not walk on eggshells like I did in the past.

I pray every day that I will give my very best to my husband and my family, to my friends and acquaintances. I strive to be my best self, but I don’t beat myself up when I fall short. I just try again the next day. It’s called being human. ❤️

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”
Ephesians 4:29 NIV

Hope AND Joy!

Wed, 02 Jan 2019 02:30:31 -0600

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” - Paul Coelho

The other day I said my word for 2019 would be “Joy”. Then I decided it really should be “Hope”. Well, we all know it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind and I’ve decided to have TWO words this year…Hope AND Joy! No reason I can’t strive for both and they go hand in hand, right?

I was looking through my photos from the last year. I try to use my own photos for my blog but sometimes something comes along that I just need to share. That is the case in today’s meme.

One of the photos I saw yesterday as I was preparing to write this post was one of my sweet Uncle Bud, devoted husband of my Aunt Viv who died the day after Mr. FixIt and I got married. I was so worried about him the last couple of years. As Aunt Viv’s dementia worsened, he got less and less sleep and had absolutely no time to take care of himself. The last two years he also had the added responsibility of caring for his sister…the elderly aunt I originally came to West Virginia to try to help. I really hated that hers and my inability to get along added an extra burden on him, but it couldn’t be helped. She and I were oil and water. Or probably more accurate, gasoline and a match.

Every week, I called my Uncle Bud to see how he was doing. And all too often I suggested perhaps they should seek some sort of alternative to caring for both women in the home, virtually unassisted. And every time, he patiently replied, “We’ll see.” I realized long back, this is not my place to butt in, so I tried to stay out of it. I wasn’t always successful, but I tried.

When my aunt finally passed, I realized…that was his sweetheart. The love of his life. He took vows that he would love her and care for her in sickness and in health. While no one would have held it against him if he would have placed either of my aunts in a nursing home, this was just not the way he was raised and he has a huge heart. He simply could not do that for his wife. And now, I am sure, he will care for his sister as long as he possibly can.

When I came across a picture of my Uncle Bud yesterday, I had to smile. Here was this 80-something year old man whom I adore, hunched over his brand new smart phone. Apparently, someone felt it was time for him to ditch the old flip phone he’s been using forever and come into 21st century technology.

I can just imagine what he must think. I remember when I got my first laptop. I brought it to West Virginia to show my grandma. I signed up for AOL specifically so I could use the internet anywhere. I plugged it into her phone line and rang up the dialup modem. After the beeps and boops, up it popped. We sat there for hours looking up stuff. She was intrigued, but I don’t think it really sank in what she was looking at. It was all a mystery to her.

As I head into the new year armed with “HOPE” and “JOY”, I want to remember always that it is my example, not my opinion, that will change the world. It takes a village to change things. And if we all work together, we can raise the collective vibration of the planet to a place of awareness and peace. If we strive to go high when others go low, we can set our sites on a common goal…one of peace and mutual understanding. When we keep God at the center, he equips us with all we need to succeed. This is my prayer…my most fervent hope, in order to find infinite joy! ❤️

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

Gwendolyn’s Journey with Arthrogryposis

Sun, 30 Dec 2018 02:30:15 -0600

“Baby Gwen was born with arthrogryposis…a rare congenital anomaly that causes some joints in the body to be stiff and bent in odd directions.”

A few months ago, I asked you to pray for my friend’s little baby granddaughter and you all stood up and joined hands and prayed hard. Baby Gwen came into this world a beautiful little flower…but some of her petals were damaged. She has arthrogryposis…a rare congenital defect that affects multiple joints. There are typically joint contractures which may be stuck in one position. The muscles surrounding these joints may be weak, stiff, or even missing altogether. Little Gwen’s left leg was bent backwards and lay across her tummy. Her feet and hands are turned inward and her little chin is drastically receded.

“Her damaged petals are what made her more beautiful than all the other flowers.” A. J. Lawless

As Gwen has grown, some of these contractures have needed to be addressed more urgently. Because her lower jaw recedes, she cannot drink from a bottle. She eventually had a stomach tube placed to get tube feedings directly into her stomach. And, because she can’t swallow, her normal saliva can choke her to death. She has to have someone awake with her 24/7 in order to suction her airway when her secretions get in her way. Between her airway and tube feedings, physical therapy and doctor’s visits, little Gwen is more than a fulltime job. I’m telling you this though…God couldn’t have given her to a better family than the one she’s in.

“Gwen has had a series of casts placed on her legs to bring them down into position for surgical repair.”

The latest surgery was a tendectomy. This will clear the way for eventually walking. I know it’s hard to imagine her ever walking when you look at that newborn picture, but she has had a series of casts as well as the surgery and her legs are down much closer where they need to be. She is just now being able to coo and gurgle baby gibberish and it makes your heart soar when you see her in a video. Her huge, sensitive eyes look into your very soul. She is the sweetest little thing.

“Baby Gwen is fed through a tube placed surgically into her stomach because she cannot swallow well enough to eat.”

Gwen’s parents are young. Mommy had to quit her job to stay home with the baby. With all the expenses that go along with a situation like this, there is also a Go Fund Me page to help with daily expenses and challenges. I rarely share this kind of thing, asking for donations, but I know this family personally. They are a wonderful, close knit family who needs a little extra help. It’s the end of the year. If you find you need to donate a little more, or if the Spirit moves you, please consider helping this young family out.

“The muscles in Gwen’s arms and hands are weak and she is just now learning to ‘hold’ toys.”

You can find Gwendolyn’s story at:

https://www.facebook.com/GwendolynsJourney/

You can find their Go Fund Me page at:

https://www.gofundme.com/gwendolyn-strong

“I look forward to every post as I follow Gwendolyn’s Journey. This baby will never be told she can’t do something…they will just find a way.”

“As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been born blind. His followers asked him, “Teacher, whose sin caused this man to be born blind—his own sin or his parents’ sin?” Jesus answered, “It is not this man’s sin or his parents’ sin that made him blind. This man was born blind so that God’s power could be shown in him.”
John 9:1-3 ICB

Looking for the Light

Sat, 29 Dec 2018 02:30:33 -0600

“Looking for the Light”

In the next week or two, one after the other…folks will be taking down their Christmas lights. My goodness, I know people who take their decorations down as soon as the last present is opened! Me? Well, if I didn’t have to dust the darned thing, I’d leave my tree up all year. Oh, I love my tree! Mr. FixIt picked out two or three trees and sent me pictures of them when I was in Colorado that first Christmas we were dating. I chose the one I wanted and he picked it up on sale after the holidays. He’s such a good man!

Thankfully, we are past the winter solstice, and the days will incrementally reward us with more and more light. But it will be a while before we really notice it. Until then, I will hang on to my sweet, white lights on my tree. And my scented candles. And my battery operated candles that automatically turn on and off. And the little candles in each window that stay up all year. And the accent lamps. There are no curtains on the windows so I can squeeze out every moment of light every day. I crave light.

In the past, I have fallen victim to the habit of saying, “I hate winter!” “I hate the cold weather!” “I hate the snow!” Well, you know what? Whether I hate it or not, it is going to be here. Defeatist jargon steals joy. Either way, hate or joy, it’s still going to be dark and cold. So why not choose joy? Why not change the negative self chatter to something like…”There is joy in this moment.” There is joy in that sunbeam, no matter how briefly it shines. There is joy in the snow…no two snowflakes are alike. There is joy in the trees as they stretch their naked arms up into the sky, their roots settled in for a rest before they burst forth with their gift of green.

This transformation of my thinking doesn’t come in a straight line. I’ve found myself being decidedly grumpy occasionally over the last couple of weeks. Then I remember my word…presence…and I come back. It may be a forever battle, but my war cry will always be “Joy!”

That is my word for 2019. Joy!

“These people who live in darkness will see a great light. They live in a place that is very dark. But a light will shine on them.” Isaiah 9:1-2” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭ICB‬‬

The Story of the Traveling Bowling Shirt

Thu, 27 Dec 2018 02:30:47 -0600

“The Traveling Bowling Shirt once belonged to Bill T. And…I found him!!!”

In 1986, Hubby #2 finished his Residency in Internal Medicine and joined a practice in a small mountain town in Colorado. We were thrilled to have that long seven-year stretch behind us and were looking forward to building a life on the Western Slope of Colorado.

We rented a five bedroom house on two acres just outside of town. With a lease option to purchase, it was the foot in the door we needed to step into home ownership eventually. We were young and happy…in that way you are when you are poor as a church mouse but are too naive to know it. We had to count our pennies in those early years and with a daughter going into seventh grade, we bought our clothes at resale shops.

There were several really great consignment stores in our area and one of my favorites was a place called Miser’s Mercantile. I went there at least once a week or so to browse through the clothes. A lot of the women from Aspen would bring things in and you could get some great bargains. I once bought a wool coat from Nordstroms for $20! Anyway, I came across this really campy bowling shirt one day and I absolutely had to have it. I wore it a lot over jeans…tied at the waist. When my daughter got old enough to raid my closet, the shirt became hers. I really missed it when she took it with her when she left home and set out in the world. Daughter #1 has been married for twenty-three years. This shirt went with her all the way to Long Island and back to Denver and she still has it.

Mr. FixIt has been on two bowling leagues for nearly forty years. Last week, I went to his league Christmas parties with him. On Sunday night, a bunch of us were talking about the old bowling shirts embroidered with the Sponsor’s logo on them…your name over the pocket. You don’t see them much anymore. I remembered “the shirt” and I’ve never forgotten the name…Bill T. (I’m only using the first letter of his last name to protect his identity.) Whenever the shirt was worn, we always said a kind word about “Good Ol’ Bill T”. I picked up my phone and did a quick search on Facebook…and, there he was!!! It HAD to be him…he worked in the bowling industry and he lived in Pennsylvania.

I sent my daughter a text and asked if she could send me pictures of the bowling shirt. Then I sent them on to Bill T with a note explaining how I came to own the shirt and was this THE Bill T. About an hour later, I received a lovely reply.

“Hi Ginny, this was my shirt from early/mid 1980s when I bowled in the Berks County Major League at Bowl-O-Rama in Reading, Pa. Crazy that it has survived over 30 years and traveled so far. I kept it for a few years after switching teams in that league and gave the shirt to a special needs bowler when I started working in that center. I am pleased to see that the shirt has brought comfort in some way to you and your family, and glad you reached out to me with the story. Thank you and Merry Christmas to you and yours!”

It really WAS our Bill T! I told him I felt like I’d known him forever…like he was a member of our family. I told him it was really interesting that the shirt made it all the way to Colorado. It was also interesting that he had given the shirt to someone with special needs. My brother has special needs and has participated in Special Olympics Bowling for over fifty years. AND, the daughter who now owns Bill T’s bowling shirt teaches Special Ed. AND…now I’m married to a life-long bowler and I was writing from the bowing alley!

Was this all just coincidence? Sort of like throwing dice or casting lots? I don’t think so. I think these sorts of things are God winks. Circles of life that wind round and round. The story of a traveling bowling shirt that has touched the lives of special people, special bowlers, on both sides of the country. I love how God works….even when it’s something as simple as a story that connects people across the miles through a bit of thread, a lot of smiles, and a warm heart. ❤️

“People throw lots to make a decision. But the answer comes from the Lord.”
Proverbs 16:33 ICB

Say “I Love You” With a Little Yarn & a Lotta Love

Tue, 18 Dec 2018 02:30:47 -0600

“Hand knitted dishcloth with the ASL sign for “I Love You” in the pattern.”

Yesterday’s post had me thinking about quick, last minute gifts for the holidays. I was in town Sunday afternoon so I stopped at Walmart and picked up some cotton yarn. Those cute patterns for dishcloths had me thinking I’d like to whip up some.

Mr. FixIt had to go to town yesterday to help a friend build something and do a little Christmas shopping. I elected to stay home. I asked Alexa to play “Soft Christmas Music”, turned up the stove in the family room, grabbed a cup of coffee, and curled up by the tree. I pulled up the fox fur blanket that I had made from the coat Mr. Virgo gave me years ago. And I set to knitting.

In the comments on yesterday’s post, my friend Jamie told me someone made her a dishcloth with the ASL symbol for “I Love You” knitted into it. I asked for the pattern and her friend sent the link. I still have the remnants of grief brain so I had to really concentrate on the pattern. I had to take out a row every now and then when I couldn’t remember where I was in the pattern. But before too long, I had one finished! I’ve started a second dishcloth from one of the pattern in the link I included yesterday.

The other day, Daughter #2 called and said she missed my cooking. I asked her what dish she loved the most. Turkey Tetrawhatzit…my version of Turkey Tetrazzini. So, before Mr. FixIt got home, I put some of the frozen turkey from Thanksgiving in a pot with a little water and simmered it till I could shred the meat with a fork. In an electric skillet, I sautéed half an onion, some sliced mushrooms and celery in a little butter. I added a drained can of mixed veggies. When the turkey was shredded, I tossed it in the skillet with about a pint of the drippings from the pan I roasted the turkey in. While that simmered, I cooked some egg noodles. I mixed up some flour in some of the broth and thickened the turkey mixture, stirred in a cup of sour cream, and brought it just to a simmer then added the drained cooked noodles. Topped with a little shredded Parmesan and…voila! Turkey Tetrawhatzit! Comfort food at it’s best…and it made me think of my daughter. Mr. FixIt said…”Send her a picture!” I did…then called her so she could “join us for dinner!”

It was a lovely day…peaceful, comforting, homey, warm with a big dash of “I Love You!” ❤️

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Psalms 23:6 ESV

Forgiveness Equals Freedom

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

“Forgiveness=Freedom”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Pleasure of Needlearts

Sun, 16 Dec 2018 02:30:08 -0600

“A lovely display of vintage hotpads and dishcloths.” Photo Credit: Pinterest

Staying out at the farm brings out the nostalgia in me. My grandma didn’t have fancy things. And when she sewed, her aim was function, not fashion. She mended sheets, shirts, and work pants. She often used old blankets, and even old quilts, as the batting for new ones. She sandwiched the old between fabric if she had the money…sheets if she didn’t. Then she tied them with colorful yarn or perle cotton every few inches. I found a pair of knitting needles and some yarn in her work basket but she said she had never mastered the craft.

Every once in a while, someone would give Grandma a pretty little handmade potholder like the ones in this picture. She hung them on the fridge with a magnet and never used them…they were too pretty. She also had hand-knit dishcloths. Those she used. And I love them! When I first really picked up knitting, I practiced by making dishcloths. They are soft and absorbent and you can have a simple one made up in an hour. They make lovely hostess gifts at the holidays. Here is a page with twelve easy dishcloth patterns. I use a cotton yarn called Sugar and Cream for my dishcloths. ❤️

“As soon as he had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”
1 Samuel 18:1 ESV

https://www.allfreeknitting.com/Dish/Learn-How-To-Knit-With-a-Knit-Dishcloth-Pattern-Patterns-For-Beginners

The Farm: Sharing My Happy Place

Sat, 15 Dec 2018 02:30:12 -0600

“I knitted this little beaded evening bag many years ago.”

There is only one thing better than spending time at the farm. Spending time at the farm with Mr. FixIt! I asked him Thursday if we could go out for a couple of days and he is such a sweetie. We don’t quite have the amenities at the farm that we have at the house, but he’s a real sport. Usually we pack enough stuff for a month-long safari, but we’re getting better at it. Dinner was Hamburger Macaroni (SO simple…brown 1# hamburger with a med. onion chopped, stir in a can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes and a can of drained corn, add a few cups of cooked elbow macaroni and a couple slices of Colby cheese, a little red pepper flakes, garlic salt, pepper, and oregano…stir and serve. Comfort food when served with homemade peanut butter cookies! Yummmmmm!

I was going through some of the things I saved and brought with me from Colorado. I chatted with my knitting buddy, Gail, yesterday. I told her about a little purse I knitted many years ago. When I was going through a box, I ran across this pretty little beaded bag. I remember the day I went to the Convention Center in downtown Denver for a bead show. There was a lady from Evergreen selling reproduction silver plated purse handles, Japanese silk, seed beads, tiny little double-point needles, and patterns for the most darling little evening bags. I bought enough supplies to make four.

This was the first one I made. It was tedious to make, I will not lie. To start with, you have to transfer all these little beads to the silk. The beads come on something called a hank. It’s several strands of beads in a loop, and the ends of the threads are all tied together in a knot. Each loop had to be very carefully removed from the hank without dropping one end. If you drop it, alllllllll the beads slip off and go everywhere. Don’t ask me how I know that. ?

When you slide the beads from the thread to the silk, you sometimes find a bead whose hole is too small for the silk. In that case, you take a pair of pliers and gently squeeze the bead till it breaks. You have to be careful because the sharp edge of a broken bead can cut the silk, then you’re in a serious mess. Strand after strand, you slide and pull them along till you have the required number of beads on the silk thread. Once the beads have been threaded on, you wrap them around and around the ball of silk ill you get back to the beginning. You have to stop and unroll this often and slip the beads further down the thread so you have room to knit. Did I tell you it was tedious?

I made this one and another just like it for my cousin’s daughter. She was born with cancer in her spine and had major surgery and treatment as a very young child. When she turned sixteen, I made her the little bag to carry to her first formal. I have enough to make two white purses…one for each of my daughters. The intent was to give each their purse for their weddings. The oldest has been married since 1995. Her purse isn’t finished yet. Did I tell you they are quite tedious to make? I thought I did.

I love having this. I used to display it in a curio cabinet that now sits in Colorado waiting for me to bring it here one day. Maybe next summer I will tote it home. In the meantime, it sits on the dresser in our room and I pick it up every now and again, just to remember I once did very tedious work. ❤️

“as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little.””
2 Corinthians 8:15 NIV

Kitchen Comforts

Tue, 11 Dec 2018 02:30:08 -0600

“Mr. FixIt brought me roses.”

When I’m struggling with grief, a day in the kitchen does wonders for me. Mr. FixIt knew I hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights since learning the sad news of Miss Louisa passing away, so he was gracious and let me sleep in as long as I wanted to yesterday. I must say, when I awoke around 11:00, I did feel much better. I padded into the kitchen to make my coffee and greet my sweet man in the family room…steaming mug in hand.

I snuggled into the loveseat and wrapped my blue fox blanket around me. The Christmas tree was decorated and standing to my left in front of the big picture windows. The gas stove was cranked up and putting off some decent heat. The heavy frost still laid white on the grass and trees in my view. And, amazingly, the forsythia had several bright yellow blooms on them casting a stark contrast to the grey palette of December.

I sipped my coffee while Mr. FixIt read the paper. The TV droned quietly in the background…some fourteen year old was answering questions on a game show. I tuned it out as I stared at the decorations on the tree and took inventory of my feelings. The pain I felt when I heard the news of yet another loss was easing a little and shifting to the lonesomeness of not being able to pick up the phone and call whenever I want. It is familiar turf for me.

After a while, I sighed and went into the bedroom to dress. Mr. FixIt put on his insulated coveralls and went outside to work a while. I carried my second cup to the living room and sat down to knit on a pair of socks. I texted my friend Gail who is touring Europe to see how she is doing. My friend Janine sent me a text to remind me she was going live at 3:00CST. I put my phone away and turned Pandora to “Traditional Christmas.” I spent the next hour or so in quiet meditation, my hands wrapping the wool yarn around the needles with the muscle memory of a skill I learned in my youth.

I decided to mix up a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies and was pulling the last batch from the oven as Mr. FixIt came in from the cold. I turned on the kettle and he had a nice cup of tea as he ate a cookie, still warm from the oven. He watched me move around the kitchen, cleaning up the bowls and baking pans. I sensed his eyes on me. This is the relationship we delight in. I looked up from wiping the counter and he smiled.

“You treat me so well.”

I smiled back. A knowing smile. An appreciative smile. This is the part of him that is like Mr. Virgo. He loves and appreciates me and is quick to tell me. I love that.

“I like spoiling you,” I grinned. He laughed, gave me a little pat as he tucked his mug in the kitchen sink. He pulled up his coveralls and went back outside. I watched him as he walked out the door. How can a coverall make a man look that sexy? I smiled as I tucked the towel in the door handle of the oven and turned out the light. I had another hour to knit before I started supper.

When I was at the farm the other night, I brought home a pot roast from the freezer. When it was thawed, I cut it in cubes. I put about a cup of flour in a gallon ziplock bag with some salt and pepper and dropped in the cubed roast. I tossed the meat in the flour, rubbing the pieces through the bag to ensure they were well coated then dropped them into a hot skillet with a little oil in it. When the meat had been seared on all sides, I removed it and put it in my electric pressure cooker. I put in a can of beef broth and a can of water, replaced the lid and pressure cooked the roast for 55 minutes. Once it was finished, I let it cool for about twenty minutes without releasing the pressure. I released the pressure carefully and removed the lid. The meat bubbled in a nice thickened gravy and smelled divine. I poured the meat and gravy out into a large storage container and set it on the counter. When it was cool enough, I popped it in the fridge to be used during the week for meals and sandwiches.

Yesterday, I cooked up half a bag of egg noodles. I took out half the meat and gravy and placed it in a saucepan on low heat to warm up. I sautéed a whole package of sliced mushrooms in two tablespoons of butter. Everything was ready at the same time so I drained the pasta, and put it back in the pan, poured the beef and gravy in with the sautéed mushrooms and added 3/4 cup of sour cream. I gave it a quick stir and called Mr. FixIt to the table for supper.

A day like that is soothing to the spirit. It reminded me that, while I miss those I have lost, I have skills in place that I did not have when I lost Mr. Virgo. It is not lost on me that I have the added blessing of this sweet man to be my companion and helpmate to love and support me as I navigate the losses. I kind of feel like I’m cheating…I don’t have to grieve alone like I did when I became a widow. That kind of grief is so much harder than this. I am grateful. ❤️

“‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.””
Revelation 21:4 NIV

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Sat, 08 Dec 2018 02:30:55 -0600

“The Parkersburg High School Band - 1960’s”

This is the time of year where my Hallmark heart kicks in and I feel the feels…a lot! Anything makes me cry…especially sappy sentimental stuff. Yesterday would have been my second father-in-law’s birthday. I was very close to him and I wasn’t able to attend his funeral because I had just totaled my truck and had a subdural hematoma. I couldn’t fly. I really miss him. I have so many “Pop” stories. Since his birthday was December 7th, it often fell on Hanukkah and Christmas is right behind.

The subject of voicemails from our loved ones came up yesterday, as well. I texted Hubby #2 to tell him I was thinking of his dad. Then I remembered a video I have of Christmas 2009. I went back and watched it. There was seven beautiful minutes of Mr. Virgo and my grandchildren when they were so little. There were my daughters and son-in-law. There was my sweet brother. And…there was Pop! I watched it over and over. It made me smile and tugged at my heart strings at the same time.

Last night we were supposed to go to our graduating class Christmas Dinner. I didn’t feel real great yesterday morning yet I worked in the kitchen most of the day. By late afternoon, I was feverish and achy. We decided not to go and I hated that, but if you’re getting sick, it’s irresponsible to go out amongst the public. At first I was so hot I had to go outside and stand for a while. Then I couldn’t get warm and spent the rest of the evening under a pile of blankets. I felt a whole lot better by bedtime.

As I browsed on Facebook last night, I came upon this photo of the Parkersburg High School All Male Military Marching Band. No, there were no girls allowed back then. That changed after we graduated in 1971. This picture was taken back in the ‘60s. I remember my parents taking us downtown to watch the Christmas Parade. I remember these Christmas decorations hanging across the downtown streets. I remember the thrill of seeing and hearing this award winning band as they marched down the street in their crisp uniforms and clean white bucks. Their precision and military style brought a sense of patriotic pride. Again…pictures like this, at this time of year especially, bring a happy/sad mix of emotions that I can’t resist diving into.

I think today I will bake cookies and watch Christmas movies! I may even hang out in my jammies all day!!! ?

“That precious memory triggers another...” 2 Timothy 1:5 MSG

Finding a Friend

Fri, 07 Dec 2018 02:30:13 -0600

“I met one of my readers last night for dinner when she came through town! So nice to meet you, Jo!”

I often receive private messages from readers with comments, suggestions, questions, and sometimes seeking a little extra love and support if they are going through something particularly tough. This was the case when I heard from Jo. Her husband had been recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Like me, she knew she needed to put something joyful in front of her to get through what she knew was coming. She was experiencing anticipatory grief.

Jo was intrigued by my camping escapades and how I used my little camper travels to help me navigate grief. She joined Sisters on the Fly and borrowed a Class C RV from a friend. While her husband was still well enough to go, she took him camping. They enjoyed that trip, but her husband made her promise not to buy that particular RV. It was older, and he knew repairs would be coming soon. He didn’t want her getting stranded somewhere or to be saddled with extra expenses so she promised.

We talked about getting together in the spring, then spring turned to summer and Jo’s husband continued to worsen. Then, after 45 years of marriage and countless sessions of chemo and radiation, her sweet husband passed peacefully, November 17th, surrounded by his loving family at home. A wake was held in Virginia last weekend and Jo made arrangements to have a second wake in Indiana with her eight siblings and their families this coming weekend.

While she could have flown to Indiana, Jo decided to drive, much to the dismay of her family. Not a week as a widow and she was already being told “You’re too old!” “You can’t do that alone!” Luckily, this tiny woman with the spiky white hair is feisty and put the kibosh on that. She informed them that, not only was she going to drive to Indiana…alone…she was going to start looking for an RV. They were aghast! She had another reason for wanting to drive. She knew she would be traveling through West Virginia and she wanted to meet me.

Jo contacted me early this week and told me she would be heading through my area Wednesday and she wanted to take me to dinner. I jumped at the chance. We met at Texas Roadhouse and talked for FOUR hours! We talked with the ease you feel when you have a lot in common with someone. We told stories, asked questions, and laughed the evening away. One particular story tugged at my heart strings and made tears sting my eyes.

When her husband was so ill, Jo’s friends and family kept asking what they could do to help. There were far too many casseroles and plates of cookies already so she decided to start “The Toothbrush Crusade”. You see, even though they had owned and operated a Christian school together for the last twenty years, Jo’s husband was not a believer. So, she asked everyone to pray for her husband’s salvation while they were brushing their teeth. That was around two minutes, at least twice per day that people would be praying for him. I’d love to say her husband was struck by the Holy Spirit and proclaimed his faith before he died, but that isn’t the case. He did tell her he would believe “for her”, but we know that isn’t how it works.

We do not know what goes through the mind in the moments before death. I reassured Jo that, even though we believe, we do not know the mind of God and we are not telepathic. People’s faith is personal and between them and God. She had done everything she could to bring him to Christ. She understands now she has to just wait till she gets there and finds out for herself. My hope is that, in those final moments, he saw a fork in the road and made a choice to move towards the light.

As the evening drew to a close and we ate the last of the dessert we split between us, we proclaimed ourselves as friends for life. Jo and I posed for the obligatory photo to commemorate the occasion, gave a good long hug, and went our separate ways till we meet again. I so enjoyed our time together. The last thing Jo said when she turned to leave was, “Keep doing what you’re doing…you have no idea how much you are helping people.” I quickly replied, “I’m just the transcriptionist. It’s all God’s doing!”

As I got in my truck to head home to Mr. FixIt, I said…”Lord, I always ask you to bring me the words to write and the people on the other side of the screen who need to read them. Thank you, Lord, for showing me they are there.” ❤️

““Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.” “Which ones?” he inquired. Jesus replied, “ ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, honor your father and mother,’ and ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’ ””
Matthew 19:17-19 NIV

The Secret to a Good Relationship

Wed, 05 Dec 2018 02:30:43 -0600

“As you grow closer to God, you can’t help but grow closer to each other.”

A young man I barely know came up to me at church the other day. He knew Mr. FixIt and I had just been married. He was quite interested in knowing the secret to a good relationship. He wanted to know how you KNOW you have the right person.

One might not think I know the answers to those questions, given I just entered my fourth marriage. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Like maybe I don’t know what I’m doing. And, I suppose if you ask my two ex-husbands, they might agree with you. I would counter with a statement: I learned with the loss of each relationship. I learned to examine my own behaviors and contributions, or rather…lack of contribution…in each relationship. I learned about what I DIDN’T want in a relationship.

It doesn’t really benefit you to approach a new relationship with a look backward at what you didn’t like before. It does benefit you to look forward with an attitude of “How can I be the best spouse I can be without losing myself here?” I smiled at the young man and said…”I have the answer for you!”

He looked at me in surprise and payed very close attention.

I held up my hands, fingers and thumbs pressed together forming a triangle.

“Do you see this? This is your relationship. You are here. Your spouse is here.” I pointed to the base of either thumb.

I held up my left hand and said, “See? If you have God in your life, you work towards a good relationship with Him. You not only raise yourself up, but you move forward. The same goes with your spouse.” I held up my right hand to demonstrate.

“When you are married, and you put God first in your relationship, you each raise yourselves higher, but what happens to you individually?”

The young man broke into a huge grin. “You get closer to each other!”

“Yes! That’s exactly right! Do you see how simple that is? There’s no real secret here. Just keep God as the primary focus of your marriage, be the very best partner you can be, try to outlove each other, and He will take care of the rest. It’s nothing more than faith and physics!”

I gave the young man a pat on the back and headed on in to find Mr. FixIt and take my seat beside him as we put God first…this day and all days. ❤️

“He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord.”
Proverbs 18:22 NIV

Plantar-Palmar Psoriasis: A Conundrum

Mon, 03 Dec 2018 02:30:01 -0600

“The difference CBD Ointment made after just two weeks of use is absolutely remarkable!”

Refresher:

After Mr. Virgo died, I developed an autoimmune disorder. It took three years to diagnose what was happening to my skin. As you can see in the photo on the left, my skin thickened, dried, split, and peeled. Then it started all over again. Cycle after cycle. My feet were just as bad. Occasionally it would appear on my elbows or on random spots on my legs. Much mostly just the palms of my hands and soles of my feet. It got so bad that I had to wrap my feet with duct tape to keep them from splitting open. I went through thousands of bandaids as I had to keep my fingers wrapped constantly…for comfort and also out of embarrassment.

I went to doctor after doctor. I used every over the counter product there was available. I went through dozens of tubes of expensive medications. Nothing worked. Finally, my doctor found the correct diagnosis…Plantar Palmar Psoriasis. Still, the medications for it didn’t work. The next thing to try was systemic steroids or one of the new, strong drugs for psoriasis. They also talked about doing light therapy. I was not happy with either scenario.

I was in Colorado visiting, and a friend saw my hands. She suggested I go to a marijuana dispensary to see if they had something to offer. I did, after much contemplation. I didn’t want the psychoactive effects of marijuana but I would do just about anything for relief. This had become debilitating. I showed them my hands and they recommended an ointment. It cost $50 for a small jar. One jar lasts about 1-2 months, depending how often I have to use it.

The difference between the photo on the left and the photo on the right is two weeks. Two weeks! I had been struggling for three years and cannabis fixed it in two weeks. Now, this is not legal in West Virginia, so I can only use CBD ointment…the kind without THC. THC is the psychoactive ingredient in marijuana. As it turned out, when I used the ointment with the THC, I only felt very mild effects the very first time I used it. After that, I felt nothing. Using CBD without THC is a no brainer. It couldn’t get you high if you ate it straight out of the jar.

Last year, I was in Fruth Pharmacy in Mineral Wells getting something and noticed a case up front with CBD oils and ointments in it. I was thrilled to know that I could replenish my supply of ointment locally and not have to order it over the internet. I went in yesterday as my little jar is almost empty. The case was gone! I asked what happened and the clerk said they had to get rid of it. I asked who told them they had to get rid of it. The answer? The government.

Yes. These are the same people who say I have to be carded at the age of 65 when I buy non-alcohol beer but a 12 year old can buy Listerine which is 54 Proof. I don’t understand. It’s ridiculous. I am not asking for opioids. I am not seeking a high. I am not looking to used anything that is addictive. All I want is CBD ointment or oil. Cannabidiol. Look at these photos. If this isn’t photographic evidence of the efficacy of cannabis in the treatment of psoriasis, I don’t know what is. God made all the plants of the field. ALL of the plants. Some plants are poisonous…but this plant offers healing when used properly and it should be made available everywhere.

❤️

“Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.”
3 John 1:2 NIV

Disclaimer: Remember, I am not a doctor and I cannot give medical advice I’m just telling you what worked for me. I can’t be responsible for what may or may not occur if you choose to follow my example. I showed my doctors and they were stunned.

Grandma Lois’ Very Best Chocolate Cake

Sat, 01 Dec 2018 02:30:46 -0600

“Homemade chocolate cake…Grandma Lois’ recipe.”

My son-in-law’s Grandma is one of the sweetest and feistiest women I know. Grandma Lois is 90 and now lives in a nursing home. But up to just a few years ago, she drove herself around in her little Ford and assisted in a grade school classroom several days a week.

Grandma Lois and Grandpa Bud had an upholstery business. She was always a hardworking woman. She didn’t stop working when her husband passed suddenly. She’s the matriarch of a wonderful, salt-of-the-earth family. I tell people when Daughter #1 got married, she won the lottery with these wonderful people.

Grandma was a member of a womens’ social club. One gathering had everyone bring their favorite recipe on a card to exchange. This is the recipe she received that day. My son-in-law LOVES chocolate cake and this is the family’s go-to chocolate cake for special occasions. I took this one with me to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving and I’ve had many requests for the recipe. I always check with the source before I share old family recipes and they were happy to let more people enjoy this yummy cake.

I’ll make another one to serve for drop-in company here at the Ponderosa. Hope you enjoy it!

Favorite Chocolate Cake

3 cups flour

2 cups sugar

2 tsp. Baking soda

1/2 tsp. Salt

1/4 to 1/2 cup cocoa

Sift together the above then add -

2 eggs

1 cup Wesson Oil

2 T. Mayo

3 tsp. Vanilla

1 cup sour milk (add 2 T. Vinegar to milk & let sit 5 min.)

OR you can use one cup buttermilk instead

1 cup boiling water

Put all ingredients in bowl; put boiling water in last. Beat 2 minutes or so.

Bake in 350 degree oven for 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

Let cool in pan for 10 minutes then tip out on a cake rack to cool. Slice “domed” top from each layer before frosting with your favorite icing.

Makes two good sized layers.

If making cupcakes, bake for 20 minutes.

❤️

“Then he gave a loaf of bread, a cake of dates and a cake of raisins to each Israelite man and woman.”
1 Chronicles 16:3 NIV

Somewhere Over the Rainbow...Bluebirds Fly

Thu, 29 Nov 2018 02:30:37 -0600

“Ron Rudolph and his grandson building bluebird houses in memory of his late wife.”

I have told you many times that Mr. Virgo sends me bluebirds. It first began when I stood by his grave…heart broken…sobbing, when I heard a birdsong nearby. I looked to my right and just a few feet away, a bluebird sat on a pole and was singing. It lifted something in my heart. I could feel my husband’s presence and it was comforting. Since then, countless bluebirds show up at odd times. Mr. FixIt and I have taken to saying hello to him out loud when we see them.

This sweet man I am married to called me into the family room yesterday and said, “Look, I want you to see this.”

I sat down to watch a segment on the Today show about a man in Minnesota. Ron Rudolph lost his wife to a brain tumor this past January. When he found himself wandering around the house in the middle of the night, he decided to go out to his wood shop. He saw a bluebird house hanging on the wall. His wife loved bluebirds and he had made several of the houses to place around their yard for her to enjoy. He decided to cut out a few birdhouses to keep his hands, and his mind, busy.

After constructing several birdhouses, he enlisted his daughter’s help in setting up a way to sell them. He wanted others to enjoy bluebirds, in his wife’s memory. Now, there are four generations building bluebird houses in his shop and a portion of the proceeds goes to the hospice that cared for his late wife.

I reached out to Ron yesterday and shared my story of losing Mr. Virgo. I asked if I could share his story with you here and he was thrilled. I have ordered two bluebird houses…one for the Ponderosa and another for the farm. I know you will love this story as much as I have. I’m looking forward to getting to know this beautiful family better.

You can find the Today Show story posted on their Facebook page: Rudolph’s Bluebird Houses

www.facebook.com/166886557…

❤️

“All you saints! Sing your hearts out to GOD! Thank him to his face! He gets angry once in a while, but across a lifetime there is only love. The nights of crying your eyes out give way to days of laughter.”
Psalm 30:4-5 MSG

Loving What Is

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s what Jesus tells me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are a child of God. ❤️

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

The Bad News vs The Good News

Fri, 16 Nov 2018 02:30:22 -0600

“This young man defeated the odds with determination and perseverance.”

You and I both know the news is heavily sensationalized in order to sell. The competition to get the most readers quite often outweighs deserving recognition of “feel good news”. Feel good stories get shuffled back in the paper to Section D, page 12, below the fold.

I read a story yesterday. You may have seen something in late summer about a young woman who ran out of gas on an interstate off ramp. She reported a homeless man offered her his last $20 to buy gas. She was so taken by his selfless generosity, she and her boyfriend started a Go Fund Me page to reward this man and help him get off the streets. In this day and age, with so much bad news coming at you in every direction, we all wanted to celebrate this kind man’s honest gesture.

Money flooded in and soon the Go Fund Me account had over $140,000 in it. It wasn’t long till things started taking a twist. The man who was supposed to be the recipient of this windfall sued the young couple and said they were holding onto the money for themselves and he wasn’t getting what he deserved. After a thorough investigation, the whole thing unraveled as a scheme cooked up by three people who knew each other for several months after meeting in Las Vegas. They are all charged with fraud and theft and I don’t know what all. It’s a sad thing to see thieves take advantage of well meaning folks with such a ruse. It harms legitimate attempts to help deserving people who are down on their luck.

When I am overwhelmed by the badness of bad news, I go looking for GOOD news. Stories that uplift, reward, honor people who make a difference. People who are often the unsung heroes. The humble and kind folk who don’t draw attention to themselves. I found one such story in Richard “Tre” Jenkins. This young man spend the majority of his childhood moving from one homeless shelter to another. Somewhere around the sixth grade, he realized…unless he wanted history to repeat itself, he wanted his future offspring to have a better childhood. He was already smart, but he kicked it into overdrive and started working hard at school. He enrolled in after school programs that helped him improve his writing and then applied for a scholarship to a college prep high school for children of poor, single-parents. He received that scholarship then applied to, and was accepted by…Harvard University on a full ride scholarship.

His uncle did set up a Go Fund Me page to help him with expenses that are not covered by his scholarship such as books, a laptop, and other essentials. Hard work should be rewarded and acknowledged.

For every bad news story…look for the good news stories that blow them out of the water. Don’t believe there is no good in humanity. Don’t buy that. Often the bad news stories that are being put out there are being done so on purpose…to provide a smokescreen. To divert our attention from something else going on that maybe someone doesn’t want you to know about. Paranoid? I don’t think so. Every time I hear something absolutely outrageous, there’s usually someone behind the screen, pulling the strings. Sort of like the Great and Powerful Oz…just a pathetic old man yelling into a microphone from behind a curtain….hoping you won’t see how small he really is. ❤️

“They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.” Psalm 112:7 NIV

Cold Weather Comfort Food

Wed, 14 Nov 2018 02:30:08 -0600

“Creamed Tomato Gravy…one of my grandma’s specialties!”

Grandma canned tomatoes like it was going out of style. The shelves in the cellar house were brimming with home canned goodies to savor over the winter. Tomatoes, green beans, corn, big chunks of tender beef, pickles, picalilly, pickled beets, peaches, applesauce, apple butter, preserves, jams and jellies shone like jewels and were EVER so welcome on the dark nights of January and February. Bins of potatoes and apples as well as braids of onions would be divvied up to last till the first harvest in late spring.

“Light and Flaky Buttermilk Biscuits…my favorite!”

One of my favorite meals Grandma fixed was Creamed Tomato Gravy over Buttermilk Biscuits. I’ve never replenished my canning supplies after they were stolen from my storage area in Colorado, so I haven’t canned anything in quite some time. I did take the last of the ripe tomatoes in late summer and stewed them then froze two batches in the freezer. I’ve been promising Mr. FixIt this yummy comfort food for weeks now, but this is the first chance I’ve had to slow down and bake some biscuits.

Mr. FixIt had to leave his truck with the mechanic Monday, so we are down to one vehicle this week. This means we get to spend the week together uninterrupted! We threw ourselves into cleaning house yesterday in preparation for company coming for Thanksgiving Dinner. We are still catching up with laundry as well as pulling blankets out for winter. It was a lovely, relaxing day nesting, cooking, and watching it try to snow. This tomato gravy over hot biscuits fresh from the oven were just what the doctor ordered! For dessert, we buttered a couple more and slathered on a healthy portion of Mixed Berry Jelly by the gal at In a Jam. My lifelong family/friend, Judith, gifted us six jars as a late wedding gifts which she swears is not a gift….just a “thinking of you”. She had the Chief Jam Maker at In a Jam make labels with our wedding picture on it. Actually, the one I’m using as a profile picture. Such a thoughtful person she is!

The peace of days like this is not lost on me. Relaxing, puttering, cooking, knitting, writing, throwing in a couple loads of laundry and hanging out at home with my new husband is so delicious. You never know how much something hurts till the pain goes away, do you? ❤️

“She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:” Proverbs 31:27-28 NIV

The Gem Roller Organ

Sun, 11 Nov 2018 02:30:10 -0600

“The Gem Roller Organ”

When we were guests at the Caswell-Smith House this week, Norm Smith shared this lovely restored roller organ with us. I have always been intrigued with music boxes and unusual instruments and this one did not disappoint. It was made 135 years ago but was restored in 1989 and came with an assortment of “cobs”…rollers with pins that activate the levers to produce the note.

Enjoy…and may you have a blessed Sunday! ❤️

A Gem of a Roller Organ

by Bob Brooke

A deluxe 19th-century roller organ. By the late19th Century, working and middle class Victorians, with more free time on their hands, sought out ingenious, yet affordable modes of home entertainment. One such home entertainment device was the roller organ, a type of table-top music box that played wooden rollers called cobs because they resembled an eaten cob of corn.

Although roller organs came in different sizes and degrees of luxury, the most popular one was the “Gem” Roller Organ, manufactured by a number of companies, including the Autophone Company of Ithaca, New York.

Originally, these hand-cranked organs operated by air pressure from exposed bellows, As technology improved, later models worked by vacuum pressure, thus enabling manufacturers to reduce the size of the units, much as today’s technology has reduced the size of radios and cassette tape players.

Because of its relative simplicity, manufacturers produced tens of thousands annually, thereby keeping the cost of a roller organ affordable. Sears & Roebuck, in their 1902 Catalog, was able to offer the Gem Roller Organ for as low as $3.25, including three rollers. Contracting with companies to produce large quantities of these devices enabled Sears to sell in volume and keep its price low.

The Gem Roller Organ, available in either a painted black or walnut-like finish with gold stenciled applied designs, used teeth or pins embedded into a 20-note wooden roller, similar to the cylinders used in Swiss music boxes. Pins operated on valve keys while a gear turned the roller. Priced as low as 18 cents each–and according to the Sears Catalog, less than traditional sheet music–roller music ranged from classical to sacred to ethnic and popular tunes. The tone was similar to a cabinet parlor organ of the time.

You can listen to The Gem Roller Organ here.

At 16 inches long, 14 inches wide and 9 inches high, the Gem Roller Organ was small and light enough to place on a parlor table. The 1902 Sears Catalog listed 220 different rollers of the over 1,200 different titles available.

To understand just how much the value of the Gem Roller Organ has appreciated, Sherrill and Barb Edwards of West Grove, PA recently priced one at $850 at an antique show in Pennsylvania. ❤️

“speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord,” Ephesians 5:19 NIV

Remaining Hopeful in a Hopeless World

Fri, 09 Nov 2018 02:30:21 -0600

“When the news is on fire, how do you stay hopeful?”

We awoke yesterday to the news of yet another mass shooting. We are only three days out from another season of hateful politics. Glaciers are melting and species are disappearing. Computers can generate images that are easily passed off as truth. China just released the first AI news anchor. There will come a time when we won’t be able to tell what’s real and what isn’t. There’s so much death and destruction, murder and mayhem, and just pure evil in this world. How do you remain hopeful in a world like this?

I was reading some comments yesterday on a news post. One after another, people expressed hopelessness. I just read that a college student was supposed to go to the place in Thousand Oaks but she had homework. As a child, she went to a school in Colorado where a gunman broke in, took hostages, and eventually killed a girl then himself. She asked her mother why death followed her so much. There were people at the dance hall who had been at the concert in Vegas that was attacked. How on earth do you remain hopeful in circumstances like this?

Compound all this with grief and it is SO easy to become hopeless. To succumb to sadness and depression. I mean, here I am…the perennial cheerleader…the veritable Pollyanna, as Mr. Virgo called me. I’m weary of all this negativity. It’s beyond negative. It’s evil.

I can’t just stick my head in the sand. I can’t stick my fingers in my ears and yell “LA LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” I can’t cover my eyes and pretend I don’t see what’s going on. That isn’t productive. It isn’t healthy. And it’s not realistic. Granted, I don’t watch TV so one might say I am practicing avoidance. I say I’m being selective. I choose my media outlet based on who I feel gives the most fair and unbiased news reporting. I cross check sources and references. I Google things I am skeptical about. I practice critical thinking. En masse. It’s tedious. It’s time consuming. But it’s the only way I can keep my senses from being barraged and eventually overwhelmed.

I look at the world through the lens of my faith. I am a Christian. And I am a Liberal Democrat. I have not looked up the statistics, but I am sure I am in the minority…looked at distrustfully by both sides. And therein lies the problem. Sides. Division. US against THEM. Divisiveness is encouraged. Chaos is a smokescreen. The enemy is very, very busy now.

When I find myself feeling mired down by all the hatred in the world, I remind myself…I’ve read the Book. I know how this story ends. The light prevails over darkness. Faith, hope, and love. God tells us love is everything. It is behind every commandment. We are to love God with every ounce of strength we have. And, we are to love our fellow man as we love ourselves.

The enemy whispers doubts and delusions. Yes. There are evil things happening. Yes, there is darkness all around. But, I can put light out there. I can find ways to bring God’s light into the world. I can carry the love of Jesus in my heart and let Him shine through my thoughts and actions. And if I can do that, others can do that. The enemy wants me to believe I am the only one trying to make the world a better place. He says things like, “Why are you even bothering?” He is whispering lies meant to break me, to discourage me. But I won’t be discouraged. I’ll WALK STRONG as long as there is a breath in me. I will always look up. I will seek God’s face. I will ask for his comfort and guidance. I will pray for discernment to show me what is true and what is not. But most of all, I will trust Him. Because of His promises to me. He has never, EVER failed me. And that, my friends, is how I remain hopeful in this fallen world. ❤️

“If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you.” Proverbs 25:21-22 NIV

Election Day and The BBC

Wed, 07 Nov 2018 02:30:46 -0600

“The colors at the farm were amazing!”

Election Day

Unless you’ve been living under a rock somewhere, you all know yesterday was Election Day. Which makes today the best day of the year...no more political ads for the next 12-18 months. There is something to be said for NOT watching television!

I left after breakfast to head to the polling place. When I got there, the digital system to sign attesting your eligibility to vote was not functioning properly. It would not take my signature. We fiddled with it for over fifteen minutes till the gentleman finally held the connecting wire in exactly the right position. Once it accepted my signature, I turned and faced a sea of faces. Apparently, I was not the first to have difficulty signing in. There must have been 30 people sitting around waiting for their turn at the computer screen to vote.

“I love this little red farmhouse and how it looks in the fall colors.”

“Good ol’ Days”

The woman in front of me remarked on the “good ol’ days” when she worked the polling place, she pushed for modernization. Now? Not so much. Colorado has a 100% mail-in ballot system. They said the costs of elections have gone down tremendously, the number of voters participating has got up, and the threat of election manipulation is zilch. They should do that everywhere and forget the electronic system which can be hacked by a ten-year-old in less than fifteen minutes. All was not lost, however. My neighbor came in a little bit after me and we had a wonderful time catching up.

Getting out to vote today had another distinct advantage. I got to meander about the countryside and enjoy the beautiful colors again. I loved watching the leaves rain down, filtering through the sunlight creating a dazzling display of red, gold, and yellow sparkles. Looking in the readies mirror, I could see the leaves kicked up by the truck and they spun around and around behind me.

“There is Joy…still under her tarp. I have to get her moved to the Ponderosa and try to get something done with her before it gets too cold.”

Texts Can Offer BIG Surprises

After voting, I headed to the little town of Harrisville, home of Berdine’s Five & Dime where I purchased a few ounces of chocolate covered peanuts...my guilty pleasure. When I returned to the truck, I noticed a message had come in. Someone from BBC 5 Live radio was trying to reach me for an interview regarding coping after the loss of a spouse. It took well over an hour to connect because they were in England and I was in the boonies of Appalachia. I was asked some base questions and told the producers would contact me at 5:30pm. That gave me time to drive home to await their call.

“This looks like a painting, but it’s a photo I took on my way home from the farm last evening as the sun was setting.”

Sure enough, the call came through. The producer connected me to the live line so I could hear the show as it progressed. The interviewer played a segment of an interview earlier in the day, then went live to the three of us being interviewed. Two men and myself. I truly enjoyed listening to their responses because I was amazed at how similar our experiences were. Our segment lasted about half an hour. I listened back and I think it went very well. You can listen to it here. Our segment begins a few seconds after 22:27. ❤️

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m0000zxg

“Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.” Psalm 126:5-6 NIV

Photographic Memories

Wed, 31 Oct 2018 01:30:08 -0600

“Fishing on the OBX”

Mr. Virgo was quite the photographer. He left me with so many beautiful photos that he took of wildlife. Not to mention so many of the beautiful places we visited together. I cherish those. I really have so few photos of him. It seems he was always the one behind the lens.

It reminds me of a morning shortly after we were married. I was in the bathroom getting ready for the day. My hair was a mess, I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed my face. I was just standing there looking at my reflection in the mirror…white robe tucked around me, half-lidded eyes, in desperate need for coffee. The house was still. I wondered where he was, when…..click.

He looked up from the viewfinder with such a sweet smile on his face when I whirled around…fire in my eyes. I gave him a short “OMGosh! What are you doing? I’m a mess!” I immediately regretted that when I saw the crestfallen look on his face…the hurt in his eyes.

He rarely took photos of me after that. And certainly not impromptu, candid shots that I wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t till he was gone that I realized it went so much deeper than just snapping a photo.

He thought I was beautiful.

He saw my beauty when all I could see were flaws. I denied him the pleasure of capturing something he loved to see. Of doing something he loved to do.

I learned from that. I’ve learned that if my sweet Mr. FixIt turns the camera in my direction I won’t care what I look like because he sees something I have learned to see for myself these last five or so years. He sees the lines on my face that mean I have had so many opportunities in my life to smile. He sees depth in my eyes that comes from love and loss. He sees silver in my hair that says I’m a wiser woman than I was with Mr. Virgo.

Please don’t fuss when someone wants to take your picture. They want to capture what THEY see…what THEY want to remember about you. Let them. Give them that gift. Unless you’re doing a photo shoot for Vogue, which I very much doubt, what harm is there in messy hair or bleary eyes? They see you through the soft lens of love. What a beautiful thing is that? ❤️

“You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.” The Song of Solomon 4:7 ESV

The Beginnings of a New Life

Mon, 29 Oct 2018 01:30:10 -0600

“Shadows on the seashore!”

Yesterday was a MUCH better driving day. It was sunny and the temperature was in the low 60’s. There were big, puffy white clouds till we got near the coast. Then the sky was a wide open expanse of clear blue. There was a little breeze but it was truly lovely. The colors were nice on the way down. What traffic we encountered was quite manageable.

We stopped at the Walmart as soon as we got on the island then drove the hour south to Waves, NC. We checked in then found our rental house. It took many trips to get everything upstairs. Once we had everything unloaded and put away, I made a cold supper of sandwiches and potato salad. We went for a long walk on the beach and hoped for a pretty sunset. But, it isn’t dramatic when there are no clouds.

The rental house is huge! Far bigger than two people need. But Mr. FixIt is an excellent deal finder and the house is less per week than most hotels. You can see both the ocean and the sound from the deck. And there are no kids running up and down the halls, slamming doors, stomping feet upstairs, or toilets flushing all night. This time of year is very peaceful and quiet here on Hatteras Island. Being the brilliant man that he is, Mr. FixIt purchased the trip insurance offer at the time of reservation in case of a hurricane. I told him as long as we had it, we were sure to not need it…but, if we didn’t? Who knows?

I am so blessed to have this week in such a beautiful place with such a wonderful person. My cup runneth over. ❤️

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 NIV

Trick or Treat!

Sun, 28 Oct 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“Trick or Treat…I’m writing!”

Ok, I’m writing on my honeymoon. There is a reason other than I am absolutely addicted to writing. I was worried that not producing an essay every day as I usually do would cause Facebook’s algorithms to kick in and negatively affect my circulation. And it did. I went from being sent to nearly 2,000 pages to less than 500 in only three days. I have worked so hard to keep my statistics up so that my social media platform is appealing to a publisher. I really can’t let those algorithms tank all the hard work I’ve put in over the last five years.

That being said, we’re only three days into the honeymoon and SO much has happened I just HAD to write. It’s like calling your best friend and filling them in!

The first day, we met up with our friends, Dianne and Bobby. They followed us to Morgantown and, even though it was 42 degrees, we had a blast watching the Mountaineers trounce Baylor, 58 to 14! There was a tragedy at the game, however. During the first quarter, a 49-year-old fan got into a verbal altercation with some people sitting near him. Then, for some unknown reason, he ran to the top of the stadium, climbed the wall, and purposefully jumped over the top falling 60-70 feet to the cement walkway below. At this time, I believe he is still in ICU. It is an absolute miracle that he survived the fall.

We rode to the game from the hotel in our friend’s car. Parking is hard to come by on game day and the people who live near the stadium turn their front yards into impromptu parking lots. At $20 a car, some of them are making $200-400 per home game…football AND basketball. Not a bad side job! We parked in this nice lady’s yard and STILL walked over half a mile to the stadium.

On our way back to the hotel, traffic was terrible and it took well over an hour to get back to the highway. I-69 is crazy and people drive bumper to bumper, three lanes across, at 65-70mph. My heart was in my throat as I sat in the back seat with Dianne. All of a sudden, I heard Bobby yell, “Deer!” I looked over his shoulder in time to see a buck spinning in the roadway directly in front of us and he had no choice but to run right over it. They have a Dodge that sits low to the ground and the impact ripped both the front and back bumpers and a plastic splash guard from underneath that was dragging. We made it back to the hotel and the guys went out and ripped off the broken piece that was dragging. At this point, all the restaurants were closed so we went to a 24-hour WalMart and bought some food, came back the hotel, and ate. We didn’t get to sleep till 2:30 in the morning. Thank you, God…for seeing us safely through such challenges!

Friday morning dawned with a chilly, gray sky and light rain. We headed out around 11:00. Our first destination was Colonial Williamsburg. We programmed in the address of the hotel we found…an old Howard Johnson that was clean, safe, quiet, and CHEAP! It was only $59.99 a night…unheard of in that area. Mr. FixIt had mapped out a route that would get us to Williamsburg in about five-and-a-half hours, avoiding DC like the plague. Now, here’s where we both made a tactical error. I programmed in the address of the hotel, and neither of us double-checked the route against an atlas…something we ALWAYS would have done. But, it was our honeymoon and we were busy laughing and talking and telling stories. Before we knew it, traffic was getting really heavy and we took a closer look at where we were. Yup. Washington, DC. Friday night. Rush hour. Only…NOW we were in the middle of a nor’easter and it was getting dark. A trip that should have taken just over five hours ended up taking nearly eleven. We were absolutely fried by the time we got to the hotel.

Yesterday, we slept in then headed to the breakfast place we went to in the spring when we were on our way home from the beach…Capital Pancakes. It was still good. But not AS good as we remembered it. Then we headed to Colonial Williamsburg and walked a good four miles touring the historic buildings and gardens on the sprawling grounds. This weekend they expected five thousand kids last night and another five thousand tonight…along with their parents…for a big costume parade, Trick or Treating, and live music. The decorations were great fun and the kids were all SO cute dressed in their costumes.

We stopped at a deli on the way home to a so-so meal and vegged out all evening. Today we head to the BEACH!

So, ok…you’re coming along. A little. I’ve got to keep up those numbers…and I can’t NOT WRITE! It’s part of who I am now. We are having fun, but we’ll be especially glad to get to the beach house and just chill out for a week. Hope you hare having a great weekend! ❤️

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8 NIV

Here Comes the Bride

Wed, 17 Oct 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“One of my favorite moments…locking eyes with a fellow widow whom I mentored…knowing we BOTH have found our second-chance loves.”

It all went so fast. Here we are, just a few days after the wedding and I don’t remember all the details. That happens to every bride, I think. You throw so much into the planning, and so many last minute details happen the day of the wedding. Friends and family came at 2:00 to help me get ready. The ceremony was at 4:00. The girls were still messing with my hair when I asked the time. 3:20! I still hadn’t put on make up or dressed!

I don’t wear a lot of make up ordinarily…and when I do, it’s not much. Throwing that on was no big deal. I slipped on my boots and my new daughter and granddaughter helped me into my dress. In no time at all, I was ready. The music wasn’t. I told them I didn’t care…I’d walk out singing “Here Comes the Bride” if I had to…I was ready….REALLY ready!

They helped me out to the tent…one carrying my train…the other hoping for the music to start. And, it did! Just as I got to the tent, I looked up and there was my sweet friend, Deneene. She was one of what looked like a whole sea of smiles and cell phones pointed at me. I looked at her with a knowing smile. You see, Deneene was referred to me when she was a relatively new widow herself. I was a couple of years ahead of her. I mentored her for the next couple of years. I was for her what I wished I’d had. Someone who had recently walked the path and could relate. Someone who could say this is perfectly normal. Someone to hold out a hand…not to pat it, but to offer a lift up. Then, Deneene met HER new love. And we walked this new territory together. She caught that knowing look in this picture. I think it is one of my favorites. Because I’m looking at another widow in love. I’m looking at my friend that helped me as much as I helped her. I’m looking at hope and joy and strength and perseverance and courage and reflecting it all back.

We all are nothing more than the sum of our life experiences. I was ready to marry…every time I married. But I didn’t know then what I know now. Now I know what love is. I know how fragile life is. I know how to face the unimaginable and still live. I know how to live alone when it’s impossible to breathe. I know how rare it is to find someone so incredibly compatible. I know SO much more than I knew when I married Mr. Virgo. This man, this love, this marriage will reap the benefits of that knowledge and experience. I am so grateful to be where I am today. It is only through God’s grace and love that I found my way through the darkness. There may still be darkness ahead…but now there is hope. ❤️

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.”

1 Peter 5:10-11 NIV

The Harder Side of Love

Tue, 16 Oct 2018 01:30:19 -0600

“This is what true love looks like.”

“Love bears all things [regardless of what comes], believes all things [looking for the best in each one], hopes all things [remaining steadfast during difficult times], endures all things [without weakening].” 1 CORINTHIANS 13:7 AMP

I received a call Sunday that my sweet Aunt Viv crossed over to meet our Lord. Aunt Viv has always had a heart of gold. I remember her holding Daughter #2 on her lap and singing “Jesus Loves Me” to her when she was just a bitty thing.

Aunt Viv met my Uncle “Dudley” when they were in high school. She was a majorette. He was on the football team. They both had excellent role models growing up and their marriage was built to last. Like my grandparents, my aunt and uncle sit beside each other and hold hands. It’s precious to see.

As Aunt Viv slid further and further into dementia, I encouraged my uncle to at least consider respite care so he could get some sleep. The last two years have been terribly difficult and he often went for days on very little sleep. They did finally get some help in the form of home health care, but he pooh-poohed the idea of placing his sweetheart somewhere other than the home they built together.

The other night I was having my quiet meditation time. I read my devotionals and had a quiet conversation with God.

“Lord, I am about to be married again. There were times in my past marriages when I wasn’t very good to my husband. Can you help me be a better wife? Can you show me what that means?”

Immediately this picture popped into my head and I went through my phone to find it. Suddenly, I had this brilliant insight. Here I was, encouraging my uncle to send his beloved wife away when God was using him to show us all what true, Godly love looks like. He was showing us what “in sickness and in health” really means. I was humbled and ashamed. I immediately wanted to hug my sweet uncle and thank him for being the excellent role model he was and to apologize for ever speaking to him in such a way. What an amazing, strong man.

This is not to say there is anything wrong with people who make the difficult choice to put their loved one in a nursing home. Everyone has their own beliefs and abilities and no one should ever be made to feel guilty for having made that decision. It takes a lot out of a person to do what my uncle has done. I hate that he is so worn down. But I love that he stuck by his bride and held her hand for sixty-two years…right to the end. I think there will be an extra star in his crown when he joins her one day. ❤️

Sparkles and Sunshine

Sat, 13 Oct 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“My fancy earrings from Daughter #2…perfect for the wedding!”

“Always be humble, gentle, and patient, accepting each other in love. You are joined together with peace through the Spirit, so make every effort to continue together in this way.” Ephesians 4:2-3 NCV

Our good friends, Dianne and Bobby came over to the Ponderosa yesterday and helped us decorate the tent for the wedding. We moved the forty bails of hay and made rows of seating. We strung five hundred white twinkle lights above. We set up the serving tables and hung the cross at the front. We have the extra bales out front and I finally found a use for these two pieces of rustic decorative fencing I’ve had for years. The quilts are all in plastic tubs to keep from gathering moisture. The pulled pork goes in a slow oven in the morning and the fried chicken goes in the smoker to heat up.

The soft drinks and water are already in the big galvanized washtubs chilling outdoors overnight and ice will be added in the afternoon. My sweet friend Deneene came from South Carolina and arrived at 4:30. We went to town to fill up two big propane tanks for TOW-Wanda because I ran out of propane in the middle of the night. It was REALLY cold by morning! We dropped the tanks back off at the Ponderosa then we went to the farm to get Mr. FixIt’s white dinner jacket. As I was leaving I saw my mom’s quilt peeking out from under a stack of linens and grabbed it. I also brought the big box of fireworks we bought for the wedding.

And now, the day is here. I found a bag with a bunch of jewelry in it when I was at the farm yesterday. Last night I was showing my friend Deneene something in the bag and ran across these earrings. Daughter #2 bought me these for Christmas many years ago. I never had an occasion to wear time so they have been tucked away in a safe place…just waiting for the most special occasion. I sent my daughter this picture and asked if she remembered these. I told her I finally have a special occasion to wear them. You’re supposed to have something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I haven’t borrowed anything yet, but the center stone in these earrings is the palest ice blue topaz, they’re old in that I’ve had them for years and they’re new in that I have never worn them. My daughter said that made her all fuzzy inside. I wish my girls could be here. But we will celebrate when we get to Colorado next.

Today! TODAY!!! I’m marrying my best friend today. The sweetest man on the planet. I’ve never been more ready, more prepared.

“Thank you, Jesus…for every gift, every blessing, every friend and family member. Bless those who cannot join us today. Bless my cousin Tom and his wife Suzy as he fights the ravages of mesothelioma. Bless my Uncle Bud and cousins as they sit with their wife and mother as she inches toward her final journey home. And Bless all these wonderful people who come here to read about how You impact my life. Lord, thank you for the gift of love from Mr. Virgo. Thank you for letting lightning strike twice and bringing me Mr FixIt. This is a love affair for the ages!

And, as always…To God be the Glory.

Amen”

❤️

The Side Effects of Obedience

Fri, 12 Oct 2018 01:30:03 -0600

“Sunset over the Ponderosa.”

“And love means living the way God commanded us to live. As you have heard from the beginning, his command is this: Live a life of love.” 2 John 1:6 NCV

I went to small group from church last night. We have a fall series and a spring series of meetings. There are different groups to fill different needs and we are all encouraged to join a small group. In a huge church, it’s difficult to feel a bond with individual members of the church family. Small group gives us the chance to make friends, learn from God’s Word, and experience fellowship. I love the gals in my small group. We always have great discussions and we always share praises and prayers at the end.

It’s been four weeks since Mr. FixIt and I decided to get married and set the date. Four weeks since I made the decision to live separately from him till the wedding. Even though I came back to the Ponderosa last week, I’ve been staying in TOW-Wanda. I was chatting with the gals at small group about it and got to thinking on the drive home about how this exercise has changed me.

First…I just FEEL different. It’s hard to describe. I feel honorable. Obedient. Peaceful. Good…in that good way you feel when you have done the right thing. It wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t necessarily comfortable. Some didn’t understand why I was doing this. That offered me the opportunity to share. I’ve had the opportunity to pray with others over this. I have even been an example to one woman who had a thought then heard my testimony and realized God was answering her question.

Sometimes the decision to be obedient to God has as much to do with the people in your path as it does to you yourself. God orchestrates our lives and places us where He needs us. We miss the opportunity to experience the blessings from that if we choose to ignore the prodding, the poking, the whispering of the Holy Spirit. I’m really glad I’ve done this. It has given our wedding a new depth and meaning.

The whole time I lived here before this, Mr. FixIt always talked about this being “our house”. And, while we did make some changes and redecorated, try as I might…I couldn’t get past considering it HIS house. Now, one of the side effects of my obedience is seeing this place as our home. Not HIS house…our HOME. Big difference.

Yesterday was rainy and we just did some things around the house. I picked up my wedding band from the jeweler. It is purposefully different. When I tried it on, my mind flashed back to my last wedding band. I smiled.

Mr. FixIt shampooed carpets. I took the pulled pork out of the freezer and put it into the fridge in the garage to thaw. We sat down and made some lists. We have friends coming today to help decorate the tent and whatever else we need to do. Mr. FixIt will go to town and pick up some food items we need for the reception. I have to run to the farm because we left his white dinner jacket out there.

We are organized. We are (fairly) rested and relaxed. And, we are SO excited!

OMGosh! You guys….TOMORROW!!!!! ❤️

Instant Gratification

Wed, 03 Oct 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“The only monarch butterfly I have seen in WV in the four years I’ve been back, and it was lying dead in the field. I was to harvest milkweed pods this year and try to bring some monarchs back.”

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

So, yesterday I told you I’m a “risk-taking storyteller”. I’m sure it’s no surprise to any of you who have been following me for some time if I tell you…I am also “Instant Gratification Girl”! If I can’t get it done yesterday, I’ve been known to pitch a hissy fit. Patience has never been my forte.

I stopped praying for patience a long time ago when I figured out God was sending me MANY situations in which to practice. I know I’m not fooling Him one bit, but I do thank Him for what little patience I DO have.

I may have told you this story before. I’ve told so many, it’s hard to remember. When I was a little girl, I desperately wanted a pair of black, patent leather Mary Janes. Mom took me to the shoe store and the only pair they had left was a half size too small. When my mom told the man we’d keep looking. I had a major meltdown. To my little overdramatic self, that meant I would NEVER, EVER get them! Mom caved and bought them for me and forced me to wear them for a month till I was broken of that behavior.

Well, maybe.

Monday evening, I went over to Mr. FixIt’s and mowed till it got too dark to do it safely. I went in to get a cold drink and was sitting on the sofa when I saw them. An army of stink bugs! Do you think either of us could have possibly remembered what arrives in WV on the 1st of October? Nooooooo. Hot on their stinky little heels will be the Asian Lady Bugs. Oy! Both of these little boogers swarm en masse and I can just imagine myself walking down the aisle looking like a Ninja as they swarm and land in my hair!

Breathe.

OmmmmmmmMyGosh!!!!

I put an urgent message out on FB. “Is there anything to keep these things at bay for a few hours?” I got lots of suggestions, including changing the wedding date. No! Absolutely not! I want my “patent leather shoes”, darn it!

Here’s how I’m going to deal with this. We’ve managed to pull together a beautiful wedding in less than a month. The average cost of a wedding in the US today is $27,000. Ours is going to be gorgeous for far less than 10% of that. (Did I tell you I used to do this for a living? Mr. Virgo taught me well!) Everything is ordered. The tent comes the 10th giving us plenty of time to decorate it. I’m going to smoke the pork butts this weekend for the pulled pork, bag it and pop it in the freezer till Wednesday. Then late Saturday morning it goes in a slow oven to finish off. I have plenty of helpers coming that Friday and Saturday. I have a final fitting on the dress next Wednesday and it will be ready to pick up Friday. We can get the coleslaw and buns that afternoon. The sodas go in the fridge Friday and on ice in the galvanized tubs Saturday. The photographer arrives at 2:00. The cake gets delivered at 3:00.

See? Everything that I CAN control is under control. The rest of it I can do nothing about. Weather OR bugs. And…it will be perfect. I was thinking about this “instant gratification” thing and my word for the year….presence…popped into my head. This is my last wedding. Seriously. I’m never doing this again. I want to stay in the moment and memorize it all. We want to enjoy this, not stress out about it. So, that’s just what I’m going to do.

I really didn’t like those patent leather Mary Janes anyway. ❤️

I’m a Risk-taking Storyteller

Tue, 02 Oct 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“I am willing to risk being wrong.”

“He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap. As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything. In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good. Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. So if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many. All that comes is vanity.”
Ecclesiastes 11:4-8 ESV

Let’s face it…I’m a risk-taker. I wasn’t always. I stood at the edge of many a precipice, leaning forward just enough to deem the venture far too scary to attempt. And, being a perfectionist compounded the issue with my “If I can’t overachieve, I will not try” personality. This has kept me from experiencing many incredible moments that, at the very least would have been entertaining, and more than likely would have changed my life. But, change wasn’t something I was interested in.

I remember when my 20-year marriage was falling apart. I had been in therapy for depression stemming from a past filled with abuse, both to me and by me. Sexual abuse. Emotional abuse. Alcohol abuse. Prescription abuse. When my ex-husband was at the end of his rope, he had some therapy of his own to gain the tools he needed to take care of himself. He was changing right in front of me and it scared me more than anything else had. Because I knew where this was headed. My long-standing abandonment issues assured me I would be alone and destitute and living on the streets. Of course, that never happened, but I distinctly remember him saying something to me and asking him just how much he was going to change because I didn’t like it. I can look back on that moment now and realize he was actually saving my life, but at the time, I was horrified.

When I found myself dangling by the end of my own rope, I was forced to change or die. I’d love to say it was an easy choice and I moved right on by the huge crevasse that had opened in my life, but that was not the case. I overdosed and came as close to death as I care to go at this point in my life. And that was, as they say, the bottom of the barrel.

I wasn’t a Christian yet, but I saw a tunnel before me of the most beautiful shade of cobalt blue surrounded with rays of gold…like a giant eclipse of the sun. While I was in this tunnel, my dead grandma came to me and stood by my side. She sternly told me, “Get back down there, young lady! You have work to do!” It took me five years and the death of my mother and the prayers of some really great people to find Jesus and my life changed in an instant. Not that my circumstances were ideal and I didn’t still struggle. I did. But I felt every cell in my body come alive and become new. It was…THE change. The really BIG change.

My fear level plummeted. I became a risk taker. After two failed marriages, Mr. Virgo came into my life and I plunged off the cliff of a third marriage holding hands with a wonderful man. We enjoyed seven years of this bliss before he died suddenly as we were planning our golden years. Grief chiseled me into who I am today. Stronger, to be sure. Softer, more empathetic. Grief became my story…and I’m an avid storyteller.

Now, here I am…about to jump off the cliff again. My fourth marriage. I swear, it’s my LAST marriage. Daughter #1 has taken to calling me “Liz”. Someone asked me the other day if I was scared. My answer was, “Heck no! I’m marrying my very best friend whom I’ve known for fifty years. Bring it on!” I realized a couple of days later what she meant….

Was I scared of losing Mr. FixIt like I lost Mr. Virgo?

I pondered. This is why no one likes to talk about death and grief. It hits too darned close to home. Am I worried that Mr. FixIt will drop dead in front of me? I’d be lying if I said no. Am I willing to risk going through loss and grief again so that I can experience the love of another wonderful man? Absolutely! And you know why I say that? Because, I’m a risk-taker now. Ever since I laid everything on the line for Jesus, I’ve been firmly in the camp of “I’m willing to risk being wrong.” It took me 14 months of being engaged to Mr. FixIt to prepare for this marriage. It took standing up and adding the caveat of living separately for the month before the wedding as a sacrifice and atonement for living together before we were married. And it took the assurance of a loving God that He will always and forever have my back in all things I do. I will not be afraid.

They say God will catch you and teach to you fly. I am sure there will be many flying lessons ahead, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take and a story I’m willing to tell. ❤️

Plan B

Sun, 30 Sep 2018 01:30:16 -0600

“My Plan A. On to Plan B.”

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” James 1:5 ESV

It was so pretty on the hanger, but...true confession...I didn’t try the dress on at the Country Living Fair. For one this, there was one dressing room consisting of four curtains and a mirror and a long line. It was ninety-one degrees. And I was working the booth. I thought for sure it would fit. It was way too big, but beyond that, the style just was not flattering on me. I was SO disappointed. Then I kinda freaked a little. We live in a small town and there aren’t a whole lot of options here for purchasing formal attire.

I jumped on Pinterest and searched for “wedding dresses for the mature bride”. Apparently, a “mature” bride is 35 because that’s how old the women were modeling the dresses. And a lot of the dresses looked matronly. I really don’t want to look like the grandmother of the bride. I AM the bride, and by golly, I’m going to look like one!

I drove to town and prayed on the way.

“Lord, thank you for all of your provision. I want to thank you for having the perfect dress waiting for me at the first shop I stop at today. It needs to be on sale, Lord. And I don’t want to pay over $____ for it. Oh, and if possible, I want to look like a queen. Amen”

I pulled into the first shop on my route. We tried a couple dresses off the rack but they neither one suited me. Then Julie, the attendant, directed me to the sale rack. She said, “I think this just might work. Try this.” It was a size 12. My heart sank. I’ve put on 15 pounds from the steroids I was on for two weeks. But I was game to try.

She helped me into the dress and when I came out and looked at myself in the mirror, I cried. Ok, I made a little 14 year old girl who was in the shop cry, ok? This dress is stunning. Nothing like I imagined I would have…or want. But, when I asked the attendant how much it was, it was $1.00 below the price I told God I could pay! We’re going to do a little fitting and then it will be perfect. I’m inot sharing any other details because that man of mine reads my blog and he won’t see the dress until I walk out to the tent. So you’ll just have to wait, too!

You always need a Plan B and sometimes, YOUR Plan B was God’s plan all along! ❤️

He Who Lives in Me...

Sat, 29 Sep 2018 01:30:28 -0600

“A rustic cross is just what we need to turn our tent into a House of God.”

“Little children, you are from God and have overcome them, for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.” 1 John 4:4 ESV

I ran a million errands yesterday. Ok...it just FELT like a million. I needed thread and some sewing scissors to sew the lace extension on my wedding dress. (It’s not quite as long as I want.) I had to take all the stuff I bought yesterday over to Mr. FixIt’s and pick up the sewing machine and my wedding dress. Then I noticed a package I was expecting wasn’t delivered because I wasn’t there. I picked up the pink slip out of the mailbox and headed to the post office. On and on and on.

My last stop was at Pat Catan’s…the craft store in town. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I have an idea for a banner or something but I just can’t quite make up my mind. Then I saw this rustic cross. I thought it would be perfect to hang over the spot we stand with the pastor. (We have a pastor!) We aren’t getting married in a church, but we can sure bring God into the tent! As I was checking out, the clerk said, “Wow. You just bought this cross and, I don’t quite know how to tell you…you saved $6.66!” Without missing a beat, I smiled and said…”He who lives in me is greater than he who lives in the world. He doesn’t scare me!”

I didn’t take the receipt, though.

What I did do this week was disconnect from the media for awhile. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I found way too many triggers everywhere I turned. Instead…I threw all my focus on this gentle man I am about to marry. Avoidance oF the media surrounding the event does not mean I am uninformed or uncaring. It just means I know my limits and I had reached mine by the end of the Cosby sentencing. This world breaks my heart sometimes. Will there ever be a time when we are less…divided, angry, hateful?

I may be weary of all this, but I am not fearful. Fear is from the enemy. He will whisper and tell you all is lost. Don’t believe him! WALK STRONG! ❤️

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalms‬ ‭23:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Not Today, Devil!

Thu, 27 Sep 2018 01:30:57 -0600

“I think Mr. Virgo was smiling at me today!”

“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.” Isaiah 30:21 ESV

For those of you who have been reading this blog from the beginning, you will remember my reticence to mention God in my posts. I was very, very busy trying to make sure I didn’t offend anyone. And, of course, that is still very much my focus. But as time has passed, I have let God into my writing more and more. I always SAID I was a faith-based writer, but I really wasn’t walking the talk. That all changed one day when I got a text from God in church. That was a great story. Anyway, I’m all about Jesus anymore and I just let out what needs to come out and I don’t worry so much about it anymore.

Our Pastor frequently talks about what happens when you are truly a Christ follower. What happens when you make God the center of your life. He always says, “If you put God at the center of your life…are truly following him with all your heart…watch out! Because there’s nothing the enemy hates more than someone putting God before anything else. He attacks and causes all kinds of destruction and whispers lies 24/7 trying to convince you if God REALLY loved you…these bad things wouldn’t be happening. And, of course, it isn’t true. Nothing the enemy says is true.

Mr. FixIt’s truck had a recall and when they started tearing it apart, they found all kinds of other things wrong. He’s going up today to have a look at it with the mechanics and make a decision. Then, after I helped Mr. FixIt with some things around The Ponderosa yesterday, I drove to the farm. By the time I got there, my wheels were squealing really loud. I had hit a pot hole on this wretched road just before, so I have no idea what’s going on.

I know exactly what is happening here. I was led by God to do the right thing and moved back to the farm till after the wedding. I can feel it to my bones that it’s the right thing to do. And then…the enemy strikes! First, Mr. FixIt’s truck then mine. In the week after we put God first. It is so clear. However, I’ll tell you like my friend, DaShara says…”Not today, Devil…I am a Child of God!”

I know we’re on the right path. And the enemy can throw roadblocks up every step of the way, but we will persevere. We will not be deterred by the likes of him! He who lives within me is greater than he who lives in the world. Everything will work out with an even greater outcome than previously imagined. Amen! ❤️

A Change of Status

Tue, 25 Sep 2018 01:30:40 -0600

“The change from “widow” to “engaged” deserves a moment of reflection.”

““Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7 NIV

I did something monumental yesterday. I changed my relationship status on Facebook from “widow” to “engaged”. Ok, in the grand scheme of things, that’s not really monumental...but it IS, you know?

Some people change their relationship status like they change their shoes. I remember that first attempt at “dating” after Mr. Virgo died. It was (I’m embarrassed to say) only five months after he died. I know, I know. Plenty of my friends and my family were like…”WTH are you DOING???” What I was doing was putting a tourniquet on my hemorrhaging heart. I went so far as to change my relationship status and knew immediately that was a HUGE error in judgment. Let’s face it…when you are grieving, good judgment goes out the window for quite some time.

It wasn’t long till the status went back to “widow” and there it has stayed for the last five years. When I tell my story, I start out with “My husband and I had decided life was too short to wait for retirement to have some fun…” Always the same. I’ve had people misunderstand my story for “wallowing in my grief”. That isn’t it at all…at least not after a couple of years. I tell my story so that others may not feel so alone in their grief. So that others may learn that when grief strikes, you don’t have to crawl into a ball and stay there forever. I tell my story to give people hope that there is life in spite of grief.

It’s not like I haven’t thought about changing my status before now. After all, Mr. FixIt and I have been engaged for over a year. And, it has nothing to do with my feelings for him. I love him dearly and want to be with him the rest of my life. It’s just five little letters, but widow is what I’ve related to for five-and-a-half years. It does not define me anymore, but it will always be a part of who I am. I was fiddling around on Facebook yesterday and just had this flash.

“You’re getting married in nineteen days, girlfriend. It’s time.” Without giving it a second thought, I went from “widow” to “engaged”. Then I sat and looked at it. Wow. This is huge. Yet, not. Yet, it is. I’m finally ready to put “widow” in second place. And now, when I tell my Mr. Virgo story, it will start out with “My late-husband and I decided…”

I’m making a concerted shift in consciousness. My focus will be more forward-thinking. My posts will have lots of new stories and color and joy and adventure. It feels like I’m leaving something behind, though. That’s one reason I’ve been staying over at the farm alone a lot lately. I need some alone time to process that. To package it up and set it on a shelf. I can still reach it. I can still take it out and look at it. I’m just not going to sit with it in my lap so much. This is all about healing and moving forward and letting go. The shift from one status to the other deserves a moment of honor and reflection. It’s good. It’s all so very good. ❤️

The Feeling of Prayers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Change is Gonna Come...

Sat, 22 Sep 2018 01:30:36 -0600

“A change is coming. Can you feel it?”

“Many claim to have unfailing love, but a faithful person who can find? The righteous lead blameless lives; blessed are their children after them.” Proverbs 20:6-7 NIV

Yesterday, I told you there were some big decisions I’ve been working on the last few months. Today, I want to talk with you about one of them. The most important one. This is a REALLY long post...but hang in there with me. You won’t be sorry.

Not long after Mr. FixIt and I became a serious item, God started working on me. For a long time, whenever I walk into church, I say a little prayer. I always say, “Lord, if there is a personal message you have for me today, please anoint the Pastor’s words so he can deliver it to me.” Countless times, God answers my plea and the Pastor will literally come to the front of the stage, stand right in front of me, look me straight in the eye, and say something that is unmistakably personal. Something exactly about what I’ve been working on, or worrying over. I would say it’s uncanny, but what it really is…is supernatural. Our God is a supernatural God. He listens, and He communicates…through the Holy Spirit. Through a total stranger. Through your Guardian Angel. If He has a message, and you ask Him to tell you loud and clear, He doesn’t need a megaphone. He’ll beat you over the head with it if it’s something you truly need.

From the time Mr. FixIt and I got serious, I’ve been getting messages from God that we shouldn’t be living together without being married. I have to be honest…this has never bothered me before. I’m a product of the ‘60s and I never had a problem living with someone before we got married. But this time is different. It’s been wearing on me. And I think I’ve figured out why.

The biggest reason is my faith has grown exponentially since Mr. Virgo died. I had to make God the center of my life in order to survive that loss. In order to not feel so alone. And God has drawn me ever so close to Him. He has guarded me and protected me. He has led me through some terribly difficult times. He has been my rock…my anchor. In the past, that has not been the case. My relationship with my husband was my focus. My relationship with God suffered and therefore I suffered. And I wasn’t even aware of it.

Mr. FixIt and I keep God at the center of our relationship. Or…so I would love for everyone to believe. See, here’s the thing. You’re either all in with God. Or, you’re not. That’s why I’ve been feeling off about cohabitation. Now, there is the issue of widow’s benefits. I had been told when I first went to Social Security after Mr. Virgo died, that if I remarried I would lose my widow’s benefits. I’ve kept that information in my mind all this time without questioning. Until last weekend.

Mr. FixIt and I have spent a great deal of time apart in the last month between being sick and in the hospital, camping with the Girl Campers, and going to Country Living Fair. The reason I took my camper up with me and camped alone instead of bunking with my gal pals was…I needed some alone time with God. These wonderful women I was with are two of my strongest Christian friends. They mentor me. They are sounding boards for me when I have questions. They are my fellow prayer warriors when I need them. I confessed how I was feeling and they talked with me about it.

While camping alone, I prayed deeply. I told God my worries. I told him I totally trust in Him and that I know without question that He will provide for me. But I’ve been so worried about losing my widow’s benefits because my own Social Security is paltry. I was a stay-at-home mom, so I didn’t make a lot of money in my lifetime. Mr. Virgo, however, worked in 5-Star resorts and restaurants all his career. He died before touching his Social Security. My benefits through him are far more than my own. Not enough to live in the lap of luxury, mind you. But enough to live on if I were extremely frugal. I asked God to give me a sign that I wouldn’t lose my benefits if I remarried.

Then, I listened. “Google. What happens to widow’s benefits if you remarry?” Simple enough, right? I mean, why didn’t I think to Google that a long time ago? Because….it wasn’t the right time. Mr. FixIt asked me to marry him just a month after we started dating. It was too soon. We needed to get to know each other more. We needed to grow together in our faith. And, I needed more time to work through my grief. This was God’s perfect timing. I Googled the question and page after page of answers came back. “If you remarry after the age of 60, you will NOT lose your widow’s benefits.” Wow! The reason it stuck in my head so long ago was, I was only 59 when Mr. Virgo died. They told me if I remarried, I would lose my benefits. But that was THEN. Grief brain didn’t allow the rest of it to soak in.

I sat back…stunned by this revelation. I looked up and said, “Thank you, God. That’s all I needed to know!” Then I texted Mr. FixIt.

“I miss you. Let’s get married.”

Without missing a beat, he wrote back. “OK! We’ll set a date when you get home! What prompted this?”

“God.” I said.

So, we set a date! Yes, my lovely Ranchers…we’re getting MARRIED!!!

Ohhhhh….Emmmmmm…..Geeeeeeeee!!!

I’m all in. I can’t, in good conscience, profess my faith AND live in a way that I feel, for me, is counter to that. So I’m following my conscience and God’s clear instructions to marry this very wonderful man that He sent me. We chose October 13th as our wedding day. When I was looking through the calendar, the 13th jumped out at me. I seemed to remember it being a family anniversary. I looked up on my family tree and indeed…it was my Grandma and PopPop’s anniversary! Those two in whose bedroom I am currently propped up, writing to you! PopPop died on my mom’s birthday…August 26th. Just seven weeks before their 50th Wedding Anniversary. I know how terribly sad I was when Mr. Virgo died just three weeks shy of our 6th anniversary. I can’t imagine what my grandma went through losing her forever sweetheart so close to such a monumental event. I am thrilled we can celebrate our wedding on their special day!

So, there it is, my friends. A change is gonna come. Will I still be a widow? Yes, I will always and forever be a widow. AND, I will be a wife again. Never in my wildest dreams would I have anticipated something so precious happening again. I know Mr. Virgo had a hand in this. He and God stopped at the 9th or 10th hole one day when they were playing a round of golf.

“Hey, look down there at that beautiful woman. Do you think we can send her someone to love who will love her back with the white-hot heat of the sun?”

And God said…”Ha! Watch this!” ❤️

Camping with the Girls

Fri, 07 Sep 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“A 1967 Avion is my home away from home this week!”

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

One of my favorite things about camping with other women, besides laughing till you’re silly, is touring the wonderful vintage campers that the gals bring along. This is an 1967 Avion that belongs to my dear friend Gail Bable. Gail is the camp host at Beaver Creek State Park in East Liverpool, Ohio. Every year, she hosts the Girl Camper in the Spring and Fall at “What a Hoot!” So named for the many owls that call the park home.

“The Dorothy Jean - a 1967 Avion, only belonged to my friend Gail’s aunt.”

The Dorothy Jean once belonged to Gail’s aunt. An Avion looks much like an Airstream camper…it’s just not shiny. The surface is anodized and doesn’t take nearly as much work to maintain as the more expensive Airstreams do. The inside is just about the same, however. I do have to admit, for a long time, I really didn’t like this style of camper. I saw it as a long, metal tube that would be hot, cramped and stuffy inside. After staying in this one, and visiting several others, I can honestly say this style has a lot of distinct advantages. The roof is entirely different than most travel trailers and they don’t leak like the ones with so many seams. The air conditioner works just as well as any other camper. And there are lots of windows for light. This particular model has twin beds in the back by the bathroom. There’s plenty of storage, a full sized refrigerator in the kitchen, and a fold out bed up in the living room. I think I would be happy to have something like this…only smaller.

“The Girl Campers sitting around the table, visiting…making new friends and catching up with long time gal pals.”

Our friend Michele showed up Wednesday night with her vintage 1967 Pennant she just finished fixing up. OMGosh! It has to be one of my favorite vintage campers EVER. Why? Because she mixes in sweet family treasures in her decor. A girl after my own heart. There is a story about everything…from her dad’s ties used as a curtain, to her saddle shoes from high school, to her and her sister’s Easter bonnets…and the love just shines through! I love a camper that you can scan your eyes over and find something new every time. There is a lot of work that goes into staging a camper like this, but when you can pull it off as much as Michele does, the results are well worth the work!

“A 1967 Pennant has the unusual configuration of the gaucho bad in the back.”

“Michele decorated her camper with treasures from her childhood.”

“Vintage camper decor in a 1967 Pennant.”

“Mixing treasures and iconic memorabilia makes for visual interest in this vintage camper.”

“I love chenille bedspreads in vintage campers. They take me back to my childhood.”

“The Queen is in!”

“You may ignore the Queen. But, she’s still the QUEEN!”

Janine (of Girl Camper Podcast fame) and I went junking yesterday and found some really GREAT treasures for staging next week at the Country Living Fair in Columbus, Ohio. If you’re visiting the area…do come look us up. We’re going to have a couple surprising variations on the usual array of vintage campers on display this year. This is one of my favorite two weeks of camping with the girls every year! Always someone new to meet and always someone fun to catch up with from the past. ❤️

Vaya con Dios, Colorado!

Wed, 25 Jul 2018 01:30:24 -0600

“Goodbyes are always bittersweet.”

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37:23-24‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It is time. Three weeks ago, the time for my visit stretched long before me. And, in the blink of an eye...it is gone. Today I travel home to West Virginia. Goodbyes are always so bittersweet. Oh, how I miss my babies...big and little. How I miss my brother and the rest of my Colorado family and friends. How I miss being nearby and stopping to visit with Mr. Virgo whenever I want. But it can’t be helped. There are so many reasons why I don’t live in Colorado anymore.

The main impetus that led my move to West Virginia was two-fold. Economics made Colorado far out of my housing budget and caring for an elderly family member in my home state seemed appropriate. If I would have known that endeavor would have only last ten weeks, I likely would have done things differently. I may have kept my Colorado house and rented it out. I may not have purchased such a big camper. I may have more evenly split my time between Colorado and West Virginia. But, hindsight being 20/20, it is what it is and I wouldn’t have changed a thing if I could.

Moving to West Virginia was the path my life needed to take. I needed to feel the freedom of living on my own. I needed to feel the love and connection of caretaking my family farm, which turned out to be the ultimate conclusion of the elder care situation. I needed the social group my hometown afforded me. And, most importantly of all…destiny brought Mr. FixIt and me together! He is such a joy to have in my life and I can’t imagine him not being there.

One of the downsides to living so far away is the limited amount of time my family has to spend bonding with Mr. FixIt. They don’t feel the connection with him that they felt with Mr. Virgo. You can’t develop a loving bond with someone you have a couple of dinners with over a period of a week or so. I understand that. I just hope they can understand my commitment to him and why I live where I do and not near them. It tears at a mother’s (and grandmother’s) heart when you can’t be near them always. The other side of the coin is, travel goes both ways. So do phone calls and texts and FaceTiming. It’s a new time in our lives. A new adjustment. A new phase.

I know where they are coming from, though. When my mom lived in West Virginia and I lived in Colorado, it used to drive me crazy. I wanted her to move to Colorado where I could help her more. I wanted her to have access to excellent healthcare. I wanted her close where I could watch over her. I guess what it boils down to is…I wanted more control. (Ahhhh, it always boils down to control, doesn’t it?) My girls saw me struggle to help my mom long distance. They don’t want to have to do that, too. I get that. But, NOW I totally get where my mom was coming from. Whereas I though she was being terribly stubborn and unreasonable, I now see she was living the way SHE wanted to live…WHERE she wanted to live. I wish I could have understood that more at the time. I think I would have been more gentle with her.

At any rate…I have promises from all my Colorado family that we will make a concerted effort to reach out more and stay connected by the various media channels we have access to. And…my sweet and handsome all-time BEST friend in the whole wide world will be standing in Columbus Airport today welcoming me home with the very best hug on the planet!!! I wouldn’t trade that for ANYTHING!

Vaya con Dios, Colorado…I’ll be back as soon as I can! ❤

The Pillar of Truth

Thu, 12 Jul 2018 01:30:02 -0600

“The Legend if the Pillar of Truth”

“Now, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1 KJV

Once upon a time, in a beautiful palace in Heaven, the was a crystal pillar resting on a stand. It was The Pillar of Truth. There were no flaws within this crystal and every angle reflected the perfect truth to its observers. This was a cherished object in Heaven. There were a band of angels whose job it was to polish this stunning pillar til it glistened in the sunlight that filtered into the palace.

On occasion, a novice pillar polisher would be needed and some young angel would get the opportunity to become an apprentice. This was a great honor, as all of the truth was held within this stone. The angels took their assignment quite seriously.

One day, a new novice crept into the pillar room to gaze upon the glorious piece. She couldn’t get enough of it during the long hours of polishing so she had to come in alone while the other angels were sleeping. As she stared into the depths of the crystal, she felt she could literally reach inside and learn vast, great things. She reached out and placed her hand on the cold surface and could feel the energy within. She was mesmerized. When she finally pulled her hand away, she could see a distinct smudge on the surface and she was appalled. She whipped out her polishing cloth and rushed forward to wipe away the mess she had made.

As the little angel plunged forward, her toe caught on the hem of her robe and she stumbled into the pillar. It rocked and tipped. She stood there and held her breath, hoping it would right itself, but instead…the great Pillar of Truth tipped over, crashing onto the marble floor into a million gazillion tiny slivers. Oh! What ever was she going to do? Surely the sound of the great crash would bring the other angels running in any minute! She ran to the closet and grabbed a large broom and began to sweep the tiny shards out the door of the palace where they fell onto the surface of a cloud.

As the slivers built up within the cloud, moisture began to gather on them and just as the last dustpan full of shards were dropped onto the cloud, a great strike of lightning and clap of thunder resounded throughout Heaven and a heavy rain began to shower earth.

As the rain came down, everyone on earth came out to look in awe, because every drop of rain held a rainbow…a prism of light reflected off the tiny slivers of The Pillar of Truth. They held their faces up to the warm rain and when they did so, the tiny shards from the pillar pierced their eyes. They felt no pain, but they knew something was different. They knew, without a shadow of a doubt that what they saw, what they knew, what they had learned, and what they believed was THE truth. The ONLY truth

And this is how it happened that people all over the world, in every walk of life, in every faith, with every dogma came to believe that their way was the ONLY way. That others were wrong if they believed differently. This perceived “truth” fractured the world and caused deep rifts between the many factions of society.

I am a Christian. This is how I identify. I love the Lord. I follow Him as best I can. I know I will differ with some. There are many paths in this world. I choose the one with Jesus. I am willing to share mine. I am willing to learn of yours. And, I will not ever tell you you are wrong and only I am right. As far as I know, there has not been a team of investigative journalists go to Heaven, document how it all works, and come back with the evidence. For me, personally…I have faith that there is a Heaven. I believe Hell is the complete absence of God…a place I have been and never wish to return to.

Every branch of Christianity, every walk of faith thinks their way is the only way. They all have a shard from The Pillar of Truth in their eye. What is the exact answer? This is where faith come in. ❤

It’s Popsicle Time!

Wed, 27 Jun 2018 01:30:05 -0600

“There’s nothing more soothing than a Popsicle when you are recovering from surgery!”

“For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord...'” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭30:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I cannot remember a time in my life that didn’t include Popsicles. One of my earliest memories is my mom breaking a twin pop to share with my brother on a hot summer day. Orange was always my favorite, but grape runs a close second. Or is it cherry? I never liked banana. Other than that, it was fair game.

As I was recuperating from this surgery, some things became apparent to me. The last time I had surgery was in 1999 when I had my sinuses done. Not a pleasant surgery with nasal splints and sleeping sitting up in a recliner. But still, I was 46. It was a relative walk in the park. As we…ummmm, “ripen”…we don’t bounce back quite as fast as we used to. Anesthesia and 3-4 Vicodin over a 24 hour period and I was toast. The pain was well-controlled, but I just hate the feeling narcotics gives me so I switched to Tylenol. Everything was going along pretty well, except I was really tired. Then, Monday night the pain hit. A burning, stabbing pain deep in the area where the tumor was removed kept me awake all night. I finally drifted off around 5:00am and slept a couple of hours.

As I lay there awake, I read the Bible, did my devotionals, caught up with everyone on Facebook, chatted with my son-in-law’s mom in the middle of the night, and Googled “pain after excisional biopsy of the breast”. It seems to be pretty normal to get to the fourth or fifth day and start feeling some pretty significant twinges in the surgical area. For one thing, all the numbing and anesthesia is completely gone. Things are starting to knit back together and that means some nerve pain as you heal. The area where my tumor was is directly behind the nipple and that is some pretty tender territory. Remember nursing? That little baby latching on with jaws of steel could send you through the roof. Imagine getting sliced and diced in that general area and no sweet baby to distract you.

I gave up trying to sleep and headed to town with Mr. FixIt for several errands. When we were finished, we went to the farm so he could finish mowing. I spoke with my uncle on Monday and he and my aunt (his and my mom’s sister) are coming Thursday for an overnight visit. I needed to get the house in tip top shape for company so I spent the afternoon fixing up the three beds with fresh sheets, airing out the house, and sweeping up a winter’s worth of dead Asian Lady Bugs in the upstairs bedrooms. I washed bedding and fluffed and primped everything to perfection. I’m really looking forward to them coming and staying the night. It’s my first family company since I took over the caretaking duties at the farm. This is the aunt who lived at the farm for years and it is her first visit back since she went to live with her brother. I want her to enjoy it and feel pampered.

I’ll make them some yummy treats for Thursday. His favorite is yellow cake with penuche frosting. Hers is butterscotch pie. I’m so excited to see them! We’ll drive up the new road behind the farm that goes out to the compressor station they are building. That might be bittersweet for them. I know it is for me.

And now, the news we have all been waiting for. I received my biopsy report yesterday. The tumor was indeed a fibroadenoma. It is the most common benign breast mass. Benign = NOT CANCER! The other day I was talking about when I was prayed over and anointed. And it turns out to be benign. I want to point out something. Yes, God can still heal. He can perform miracles. AND…there are plenty of wonderful, GOOD Christians who pray faithfully and they still get cancer. Cancer doesn’t play favorites. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you are rich or poor, black or white or any other color of the rainbow. It doesn’t care if you’re a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim or an atheist. It doesn’t care. Something triggers cells to multiply abnormally. It’s as simple as that. My faith tells me God can answer prayers. And sometimes…unfortunately…the answer is no and a bad diagnosis comes. It is one of the horrible thieves that rob us of life and health. I am very grateful that my (and your) prayers were answered in a positive way. Thank you so much for caring. Now I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Just rest and heal and head to Colorado in a week!!! ❤

Let Freedom Ring!

Sun, 24 Jun 2018 01:30:46 -0600

“Let Freedom Ring!”

“For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I just finished writing July’s post for the Sisters on the Fly blog. I wrote about the many freedoms we are blessed with beyond Independence Day. The audience for that blog is women campers. There is a certain reservation in my writing there as I am paid to do so. Therefore, I am somewhat constrained in my topics. I always check in with them ahead of time, find out what their theme of the month is, and write accordingly. It’s not like this blog where I speak my heart and my truth. So I’ll write the “Marshmallow Ranch” version of that blog here.

Independence Day. The 4th of July is coming soon. Images of family gatherings, cookouts, baseball games, fireworks. That’s what it’s all about, right? Well, yes…and no. In 1776, our forefathers of this nation set forth a document that outlined our beliefs pertaining to our independence from Great Britain. Man made laws that apparently gave us our freedom. However, we were given freedom long, long before this document was drawn up. At least…we were given the choice.

We were given freedom from the weight of our past. Our sins. I am reminded of a weight I used to carry that I finally put down eighteen years ago. In the ‘80s and ‘90s, I had a problem. I was a doctor’s wife and as such, I was highly over treated medically. I was given drugs freely and when I cried out for help, I was stifled. I was given more drugs and more drugs. I took up drinking with a vengeance. I was dying as fast as I could and it wasn’t fast enough so I took two bottles of pills and almost finished the task.

Thank God, I am a different human being now. I got the help I needed. I found the people who listened. And I got away from the situation that sent me down that path. On occasion, I get a reminder of what that life was really like. Case in point…I had surgery on Thursday and was given a narcotic pain reliever. In such a case, I will take these…reluctantly. But, let me tell you…I am EXTREMELY cautious. I do not like how they make me feel. I don’t like the fuzziness. I don’t like the disconnection from my surroundings. I hate the dry mouth and the upset stomach. And I hate the feeling I get when I stop taking them. Even just taking them for 24 hours, I feel a sinking darkness that comes over me. For the life of me, I cannot understand how I could have taken so much of this stuff back in the day. I couldn’t function. I wasn’t participating in life…in the lives of my family. It is just a sad reminder of what we all went through because a referral pattern is a terrible thing to waste. I was a doctor’s wife, after all. His colleagues had to go above and beyond. It was a brutal time.

I will not submit to the yoke of slavery that drugs and alcohol brought into my life. I am judicious in my choices and stand firm in that because quitting was, aside from losing Mr. Virgo, the most difficult thing I ever had to do. Not the quitting itself. I was delivered from that immediately. Navigating the devastation it left behind in my family was where I struggled. It was horrible for everyone involved. I am grateful for this new life…this healing I was given when I gave up and asked Jesus to take over. I will celebrate my Independence Day as January 6th…the day of my overdose. The day I stepped into the void and came out again. Let freedom ring! ❤

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Flying My Kite

Thu, 21 Jun 2018 01:30:13 -0600

“God is the tail of my kite…He anchors me.”

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:1‬ ‭KJV‬‬

When I was a little girl, my daddy always brought me a paper kite at the beginning of summer vacation. It was in a long, narrow plastic sleeve. You got two flat sticks, one long...one shorter...with slots cut in each end. You got a sheet of thin paper and some string. You fastened the two sticks in a cross shape first. Then you stretched your string around from end to end of the sticks, making a kite-shaped frame. You laid the frame on the paper and folded the edges over the string and glued them closed. Once the glue was dried, you attached string loosely from top to bottom and from side to side so you had something to attach the kite to the kite string with. The last thing you did was affix a tail. They didn’t give you this. You usually used some scrap material you had handy. You tore the material into two or three long strips about an inch wide. You cut one or two of the long strips into shorter pieces...maybe 4-5” long. These you tied every 6 inches or so down the long strip. Then you attached that long strip to the bottom of your kite and it became the tail.

Have you ever tried to fly a kite without a tail? You can’t. The wind picks it up then it goes around and around in frantic circles until it crashes down to the ground. My dad taught me you had to have an anchor so your kite would fly high and true.

Life is like that, isn’t it? You need something to anchor you in life or you just go around and around in circles. I spent a lot of my life unanchored. I crashed and crashed and crashed…over and over. I have heard it said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.” If this is true, how many of us are “insane”?

The secret to flying a kite successfully is letting go. You send the kite up in the air till the wind catches it, then you hold on to this little, tiny string. Not too tight…not too loose. You let the string out as the wind lifts the kite higher and higher. The anchor kept the kite upright and steady.

In my life, I found the only logical thing to do was to make God my anchor. It was He who was the most reliable. He wasn’t going anywhere. I had to participate. I had to hold the string and keep a watch on it as best I could. I had to do what I could to steer it from hazards like trees and electrical wires. I had to learn when to let it out, and when to reel it back. But, I had to let go of the tail. I had to let God do His thing so I could fly high and strong.

Today, I am having surgery. It’s not big deal, really. It’s called a “wire-guided excisional biopsy of the right breast”. This lump will be removed and sent to the lab where it will be prepared and observed under a microscope. The pathologist will review the slides and a diagnosis will be given. I am firmly convinced it is benign and we are just exercising an abundance of caution. That being said, no surgery is without risks and I will be getting general anesthesia. I’m not worried though. Because…I understand the risks, I have confidence in my doctors, and I have a really strong tail on my kite. God has this. If it’s good news…awesome. I’m done with it and can get on with my life. If it’s bad news, then God will use whatever comes my way to teach me, mold me, humble me, and remind me to come to Him when things are hard. It really is that simple.

I know this because I have faith. ❤

Drink Coffee...Pray Boldly

Sun, 17 Jun 2018 01:30:55 -0600

“Pray BOLDLY at every opportunity…even at coffee with the girls.”

“If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:5-8‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Yesterday was coffee day with the girls...those magnificent ‘71 Divas from my high school class. We didn’t all know each other in high school. We really became most acquainted through Facebook and efforts to gather as many classmates as possible for class reunions, dinners, picnics, and the like. We are, all to often it seems, meeting at funeral homes anymore. I decided four years ago us gals need to get together and form a tribe...a sense of community of the feminine...when I came back to West Virginia to live. Now, we look at our monthly meetings as caffeine fueled talk therapy and I’ve seldom missed it.

There weren’t as many gals gathered yesterday. Illness, hospitalization, vacations, and general summer business kept many of our regulars away. There were also a few who came that don’t get to attend very often. It’s always a different group but the dynamic is the same. We are there to have fun, let our hair down, laugh a lot, and offer support to one another as we learn what’s new in each other’s lives.

My friend Diane came and brought me one-third of my birthday present. She called the other day and wanted to meet up with me. We had a miscommunication and she ended up waiting for 45 minutes out at the farm and when it got too hot and I didn’t show up, she went home. She had to take my gifts with her…two-thirds of which were perishable. Yesterday, she gave me my card. Imagine my dismay when I learned of the flowers and chocolate covered strawberries she had brought me Wednesday! I felt so awful about that…she went to so much trouble. But, we laughed it off. She gave the flowers to a friend she had dinner with that night and ate the strawberries on the way home so all was not lost!

When the majority of the gals had left for the day, my friend Lisa and I sat and talked to one of our friends who hung behind. She confided that we looked like someone who could help her. She had a prayer request. We talked about it a while, offering advice and comfort. When she asked for prayers, Lisa (you remember her from a previous post a month or two ago) took our friend’s hand and said, “Well, let’s just pray now.” The three of us sat in a very public area of the historic hotel where we gather, held hands and prayed together. Boldly. Unashamed. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even think about it until later.

There was a time in my life when I looked at people praying over their meal in a restaurant or holding hands together in public, praying, and I felt…I don’t know…uncomfortable, self-conscious, embarrassed for them? I was decidedly unenlightened in those days yet I thought I was SO evolved. In the last several years, I have become much bolder with prayer. There is no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed to offer prayer anytime the Spirit moves you or you are asked. I was really happy to be able to pray with my friends. I always ask God to bring me more prayer opportunities and the bravery to carry them out. It is an honor and a privilege.

Today is Father’s Day. For some of you, it is the first without your loved one and the firsts are hard…and sometimes the third and the tenth and….. Please know that I will pray boldly for you today that you know God is with you to offer comfort and solace in your broken places. You are so loved! ❤

This Man KNOWS How Old I Am

Wed, 13 Jun 2018 01:30:45 -0600

“It’s not how many years in your life…but the life in your years!”

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

So, today is really monumental...huge...a BIG deal in anyone’s life. Today is my 65th birthday! I didn’t know how to feel about it this year. I let myself dwell on the obvious...I’m getting older. I let myself worry about the health issues I’m facing in the coming weeks. I thought about how Mr. Virgo would have SO enjoyed this accomplishment. I thought about how much I miss my Colorado family. I thought about my beautiful mom and how I called her every year on my birthday and thanked her for having me.

All this time, this wonderful man orbited me on a daily basis. Taking care of me. Loving me. Watching to see if there was anything I might need or any way he could support me better. For a couple of weeks, he was eclipsed by the hamster wheel of grief running in my brain. Then the wave was gone…receding into the background again. And I could see every blessing clearly.

Yes…I’m getting older. Isn’t that wonderful??? I’m getting older and bolder and my best days are in front of me. Adventure awaits at every opportunity.

Yes…I have some health issues to deal with in the coming weeks. Isn’t it terrific that I am blessed with great insurance that will take care of the bills so I can focus on healing and getting better after my upcoming surgery instead of worrying about how I’ll pay for it all? Blessings come in dark colored packages sometimes.

Yes…Mr. Virgo would have loved to help me celebrate this one. Wasn’t it terrific that I got to feel such unconditional love from such a great guy?

Yes…I miss my Colorado family. I get to see them in just a few short weeks and I can immerse myself in their sunshine and love. I am so honored to call them mine.

Yes…I miss my mom. She knew how much I loved her because I never failed to tell her at (almost) every opportunity.

And…I am so, so grateful to have the opportunity to love again. To feel the love of a good man. A man who watches out for me and protects me and brings me so much joy.

Mr. FixIt came home from town yesterday and I fixed us a great meal. Then he asked me to go in the other room for a while. He called to me when he was ready and I went out to the deck by the pool. He had these cupcakes with the candles lit and a lovely, sentimental card that he selected with the perfect inscription. And he gave me a beautiful rocking chair for the front porch.

Yes…chronologically, I may be 65 years old today. But this man knows me on the inside. He KNOWS I’m only 35 on the inside. And that is my best earthly gift ever. ❤

The Long Way ‘Round

Tue, 12 Jun 2018 01:30:07 -0600

“This is how we party…lifting up the name of Jesus!”

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I was so tired Sunday night and didn’t write a post because I went to church twice and spent the afternoon with family. Sunday night, our church celebrated it’s third birthday. They started out with a little over a hundred people and met in an area restaurant. Now there are four services every Sunday and well over 2,000 people who attend. That kind of growth in a church today is unusual. The forward-thinking pastors of our church were given a vision of creating a different kind of church. One where everyone would be welcome. A come-as-you-are kind of place. A church home that greets you at the door with high-fives and holding up signs in the parking lot with messages like “You made it!” and “Come sit with us!”

The Sunday evening service was a true celebration and the volunteers were honored for all their hard work. There was an extended worship and the praise team plays this one song that really gets people up and excited. “This is How We Party” by Equippers Revolution is upbeat and fun and lifts up the name of Jesus. Everyone in the place was up on their feet dancing and joyous, arms stretched up, praising. We ended by taking Communion. I get chill-bumps when I go there.

I had never been to a church like this before. Most of the sermons I ever sat through as a kid had me counting the moments before it was time to get the heck out of there. Therefore, as an adult, I went as far away from Christianity as I could get. I started going to a contemporary church service with my dear friends Bob and Ellie when I became a Christian. There is a particular church in Denver I love as well. But I was concerned when I moved to West Virginia. I wasn’t sure I would find the kind of church I had become accustomed to. And it took a while. I church shopped for over a year before I found this one. I literally stumbled upon it. Or was I led? More likely the latter.

I jumped and danced so much Sunday, I was exhausted. But exhilarated. Too many churches are dying because they do not appeal to the younger generations. This church has a vibrant, well-attended youth ministry. A large portion of the building is dedicated to children’s classes. This is the first time in my life that I have looked forward to going to church every Sunday. I really, really miss it if we can’t get there. I love that church is fun. That I can celebrate my relationship with Jesus surrounded by a loving, supportive church family. I love that every single weekend, the message speaks to me personally. I feel the Holy Spirit move there.

I think of my grandparents and the little white church on the hill. These services aren’t anything like theirs. They truly wouldn’t understand what was happening. You never danced and shouted in church back then save for the occasional well-placed “Amen!” Even with all that, I think my grandma would be so happy that I have become a Christian. I came to Jesus the long way ‘round. I wish she could see the woman I’ve become. My mom, too. I’ll see them someday and tell them all about it. ❤

The Power of Words

Thu, 31 May 2018 01:30:32 -0600

“Shhhhhh…..”

Events of the last couple of years, and certainly the last week, have demonstrated the absolute destructive power of the spoken word. Caution…I am NOT discussing politics here nor specific individuals or what has been said. What I’m talking about is society’s shift toward having no filter whatsoever. My elderly aunt once said something to me that was downright mean-spirited. When she was done, I just looked at her calmly and said, “You know, that was very mean.” She said, “Yeah, well…it popped into my head so I figured I might as well say it!” Ok…she’s 84 with declining mental faculties. I can forgive that. But some of the things I hear these days makes me want to hold my hands over my ears and go screaming into the night.

Yesterday, one of the news channels out of Denver that I still follow was airing a live video feed of a cow elk in labor and attempting to give birth. It was pretty boring, actually. I mean…how long can to sit and stare at a cow elk laying down, standing up, laying down, standing up, pushing, laying down…you get the picture. There was no “happy ending” coming anytime soon and there had already been sixteen hours of this. I soon bored of watching the elk who was desperately trying to become a mama and started reading the comments people were making.

I was appalled. What started out innocently enough, ie “Oh, no! Is the mama cow in trouble? This has been going on a long time!” to “You stupid ******* idiot, it’s an elk, not a cow!” to “Veal comes from a boy calf who gets ripped from his mama and kept in the dark and fed only milk.” to “YOU’RE the ******* cow, *****!” Holy cats! It took five minutes to go south. People seem to be of the opinion, like my elderly, slightly dotty aunt, that if it pops in your head, you might as well say it.

People who have seen great commercial success have seen their empires crumble for saying abhorrent things. Men have lost their careers and everything they have built because of things they said. I am NOT standing up for those men who are truly deserving of retribution and I totally think you need to be held accountable for the things that come out of your mouth. But, you have to ask yourself, what would keep a disgruntled employee or associate from claiming such abuse when the accused is actually innocent. You know it happens.

When is it ok to be a racist? The answer is…never. When is it ok to be anti Semitic? The answer is…never. When is it ok to be homophobic and denigrate someone on social media for their sexual preference? The answer is…never. Liberals, conservatives, gay, straight, black, white, and every shade in between…we’re all the same inside. We all bleed red and breathe oxygen. The thing is…I don’t think of it as being “politically correct.” I think of it as being a decent human being with good character. God tells us in the Bible that the tongue has incredible power. We can bring blessings or curses…life or death…light or darkness. All with a muscle the size of a small banana.

Such power words have. Lifelong scars can happen in an instant. Broken promises. Little white lies. Great big lies. Gossip. Slander. Such damage that can be done without thinking. We see it over and over. You’d think they’d learn, wouldn’t you?

Proverb 10:19 says…”Sin is not ended by multiplying words, but the prudent hold their tongues.” Proverbs 15:4 says “The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit.” Matthew 15:11 says…”What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them.” The Bible warns over and over and over to hold your tongue. Watch your words. I am as guilty as anyone for speaking before thinking…far too many times. But age and maturity and God’s grace is going far toward helping me keep a rein in on my tongue. And what I miss, God forgives me when I am truly repentant. I hope the next generation learns this. I hope they learn the delicate art of speaking gently. ❤

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:29‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Campfire and Conversation

Mon, 21 May 2018 01:30:18 -0600

“A pileated woodpecker has decimated this tall pine tree at the edge of the campground.”

This trip has been such a blessing to me. Laughter is the best medicine and there has been so much joy shared between us as we sit and work with our hands. We have shared stories and learned more about each other. We have loved on our furry friends, including a little stray black cat who showed up Friday night. We think someone must have dumped him along the road because he is so friendly. He’s the camp cat for now and will more than likely go home with the camphost as her husband has taken a shine to him.

“The hat I knitted from the yarn Gail spun from Alpaca and wool.”

I’ve become very close friends with our camphost, Gail. She is a woman of strong faith. She reminds me of the woman in Proverbs 31. She’s the kind of woman you want to learn from and emulate. She is kind, courageous, fair, fun, and family oriented. And talented? OMGosh! She can do anything. I just love her to the moon and back. Her husband took Mr. FixIt fishing last night and he had a blast. They only caught one fish between them, but they had good fellowship and got to know each other better.

“Mr. FixIt enjoys his morning coffee in one of the Girl Camper mugs.”

This is one of the things I love about Mr. FixIt. He has friends outside of our relationship. I loved Mr. Virgo…you know that. And, he had no real friendships other than me. He had friends he worked with, but he never did anything without me. I was telling the girls around the campfire the other night…I never would have been a Girl Camper or a Sister on the Fly if Mr. Virgo were still living. It’s just not something I would have done…even though it was something I would have enjoyed. This is the difference in the woman I have become since losing him. I am far more independent. And, I am more assertive…something Mr. FixIt deeply appreciates in me.

“Campfire and Corgis”

Loss changed me. It was terribly difficult. It tore me apart and dropped me in pieces on the ground. When it came time to rebuild, I put myself back together in a way that suited this new life…this new me. I love this me that I am today. While I hate what happened to get me here, I am grateful for this new life and all the new people that have been brought into it.

Yes, this trip is just what the doctor ordered. Food, fun, and frolic…Girl Camper style! ❤️

“A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. Her husband trusts her without reserve, and never has reason to regret it. Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long. She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing. She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places and brings back exotic surprises. She’s up before dawn, preparing breakfast for her family and organizing her day. She looks over a field and buys it, then, with money she’s put aside, plants a garden. First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started. She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day. She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in homemaking. She’s quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor. She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows; their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear. She makes her own clothing, and dresses in colorful linens and silks. Her husband is greatly respected when he deliberates with the city fathers. She designs gowns and sells them, brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops. Her clothes are well-made and elegant, and she always faces tomorrow with a smile. When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly. She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, and keeps them all busy and productive. Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: “Many women have done wonderful things, but you’ve outclassed them all!” Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of- GOD. Give her everything she deserves! Festoon her life with praises!” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:10-31‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Campfire...Nature’s Therapist

Thu, 17 May 2018 01:30:14 -0600

“A campfire is cheaper than therapy.”

There is something incredibly special about girl camping…be it with an organization like Girl Campers or Sisters on the Fly, or just a group of like-minded gal pals who like to get out in the great outdoors. Sometimes conversations go deep. Sometimes you open up about things you never dreamed you’d talk about. You meet strangers and they become Sisters. You laugh. You cry. You learn. There is always common ground with someone.

Camping can be as simple as a pup tent or a minivan or as complex as a big travel trailer or motor home. Meals can be simple throw together salads to an elaborate spread of grand proportions. It can be a fee free gathering of two or three to an epic multi day extravaganza with a hundred or more gathered for “Cowgirl College”. The bottom line is always the same…get away from everyday life and become a girl again.

I never camped with my family when I was growing up. The closest was a week in a cabin along the North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac River in the mountains of West Virginia. I went to church camp in 7th grade. And I camped a handful of times as an adult. But I never learned the joys of girl camping till after Mr. Virgo died. Girl camping saved me. They taught be that he died…I did not. They set examples of how to be self reliant. They taught me new skills. They taught me that, even in my grief, it was ok to laugh.

Miss Maizie, the original Sister on the Fly, was still camping in her nineties…a martini in one hand and a cigar in the other. And, while I don’t drink or smoke, I can surely identify with that independent, carefree spirit.

I know camping is not for everyone…I certainly don’t rough it. I camp like a girl and sleep on 800 count sheets on a memory foam mattress. I have a bathroom and a shower and a full kitchen. I have a house on wheels. Some would not even call that camping. For me, if there’s the sound of nature at night, if there’s a campfire, and I can sit beneath the stars and laugh with good friends…that’s camping for me. If you’ve never had the opportunity to do this I hope you try it at some point in your life. My heart is happy in my camper. ❤

“The wise prevail through great power, and those who have knowledge muster their strength.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭24:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I’m Walkin’ on Sunshine

Wed, 16 May 2018 06:39:50 -0600

“Sitting in the morning sun, coffee in hand, Country Living Magazine…birds and roosters entertaining me. It’s a beautiful life!”

One of summer’s delights in the east…a warm morning spent outside reading and sipping my morning coffee. We’ve hit the summer thunderboomer circuit early this year here in West Virginia. The skies are brilliantly clear in the morning. The humidity is high from the rain the afternoon before. The temperature soars by noon and the thunderclouds begin to build till they boil over. Thunder, lightning, hail, high winds all can play havoc with your plans.

Mowing seems to be the big thing around here in the summer. I have to say, I did not miss lawn care and home maintenance in the years I traveled and lived in TOW-Wanda. It was a welcome break. But now that I have the chance to dive into the great outdoors and get dirty and sweaty, I have to admit, it beats going to a gym any day of the week.

I mowed with the self-propelled push mower at the farm yesterday. What a workout! The yard is well over an acre, the temperature in the high eighties, the humidity sticky and thick. With my propensity towards heat exhaustion, I only mowed 15-20 minutes at a time, then took a break to rehydrate and lay in front of the fan. At that rate, it took me five hours to complete. It’s so beautiful when it’s finished. I took a few moments to just wander around and enjoy the surroundings. The rhododendron is just about to burst into bloom, as are the irises and peonies. The farm cats lazed around beneath the Rose of Sharon and the huge hydrangea bush along the creek. While the flowering quince is fading, the spice bush is in full bloom. I love this time of year.

We are getting things geared up here at the Ponderosa to prepare for a summer of entertaining. Mr. FixIt has been working in the pool to get it open. We still need to pressure wash the deck but will wait for a dry spell. I’m heading out today for another road trip. This time I’ll be camping with the Girl Campers at a State Park in Ohio for a week. It’s a Mister Sister event so my mister will be joining me this weekend. I love camping with the girls! This year, our hostess…my dear friend Gail…is going to teach me to spin wool for sock yarn. I’ll have time to sit and knit on my socks and finally read my friend Michelle Cummins’ new book, The Reel Sisters. Peace and quiet in the beautiful woods surrounding one of my favorite campgrounds.

As I sit here on the deck in the warm sunshine, a nice breeze blowing, listening to the rooster down the road, reading Country Living Magazine…my heart is overflowing with the blessings of my life. I’m such a far cry from the early days of my grief. The contrast is startling. The heart can mend itself…scarred, certainly. But infinitely full of hope. ❤️

“So I rejoice, and I am glad. Even my body has hope.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭16:9‬ ‭INternational Children’s Bible

The Royal Wedding

Tue, 15 May 2018 01:30:30 -0600

“St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle”

I was a relatively new military bride, expecting my first child, when Hubby #1 and I lived in England. Britain was all abuzz with the news of a Royal Wedding coming that fall. Princess Anne, the only daughter of Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh, married Mark Phillips on November 14, 1973. The country was bonkers for this event that drew an audience of over 500 million worldwide.

“The Choir Area, St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle”

The wedding was on a Wednesday…a workday for my husband…so my friend Gloria watched the wedding with me on television in my little flat. Gloria was a Brit married to an American soldier. I had such a good time with her and she taught me a lot about the differences in cultural norms. Everyone loved the Royals. Most everyone had a portrait of the Queen and the Queen Mum in their homes.

“Stunning architecture of St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle”

Princess Anne was married in Westminster Abbey. Meghan Markle, a divorced American actress will marry Prince Harry in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. I’ve visited both places. While hardly “intimate”, St. George’s Chapel does have a different feel than Westminster Abbey. I love the choir area and Princess Charlotte’s Memorial is stunning. (Princess Charlotte was in line to be the queen but died after giving birth to a stillborn son at the age of 21. The memorial is carved marble and depicts angels taking the baby to heaven as those left behind are separated by a veil.

“Princess Charlotte’s Memorial, St. George’s Chapel”

When Princes Diana and Prince Charles married, the world fell in love with Lady Di. When their son Prince William married his Kate, the world fell in love with her. We are particularly intrigued by Meghan Markle because she is an American. An American Princess.

I’ll be camping during the wedding, so I’ll not be watching. But I’ll follow along online as I can. It brings back such lovely memories of my time living abroad. We even gave our firstborn the middle name “Anne” in honor of the princess. A Royal Wedding is a welcome little break in all the badness that is followed by news coverage. I’m looking forward to something other than politics and bad stuff for a change. The focus will turn back soon enough. ❤️

“with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:2-3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Still Praying Together

Sun, 13 May 2018 01:30:50 -0600

“My good friend, Lisa and me.”

It was the fall of 1960 when I met Lisa. We were in second grade together in Mrs. Alexander’s room. It depends who you talk to. Some say Mrs. Alexander was a sweetheart. Others…not so much. She seemed to have one student every year that was on her black list. Nothing you could do would please her if you were on her dark side…and that is the unenviable position I found myself in during second grade.

She made me nervous. And when I get nervous, I can’t eat. Every day I would try to eat my lunch because every day she saved my lunch tray to show my mom that I wasn’t eating. I always felt like I was in trouble. Mom took me to the doctor and he gave me a “tonic” that I took a spoonful of every day. Together, they decided Mom should pack my lunch. Maybe it was just the school food I didn’t like. But that wasn’t it. Even when I had my favorite foods in my cute little plaid lunch box, I just could not eat.

One day, before lunch, I was standing in line to wash my hands in the bathroom. My stomach was churning and I knew I was going to have trouble eating. I was praying under my breath, when the little girl in front of me turned around and looked me straight in the eye. It was Lisa.

“Are you praying?” she asked.

I silently nodded my head and cast my eyes downward…ashamed to be in such a dire circumstance.

“What are you praying about?”

“Mrs. Alexander scares me and I can’t eat. Every day I get in trouble because I don’t eat my lunch. She even took me to the office and the Principal spanked me!” My words tumbled over each other as I confessed my self-perceived weakness.

“Well, here…I’ll pray with you.” Lisa wrapped her arm around my shoulder and hugged me close and we both prayed that I could eat again and that Mrs. Alexander would leave me alone.

I was stunned by her kindness. I was relieved beyond words. Someone cared. Someone understood me. Someone wanted to help me. And…it was a little girl I didn’t know. I instantly loved her.

Amazingly, that is the last time I remember the whole lunch fiasco. I don’t remember if my appetite returned, but I do know we moved shortly after that and I started attending a new school. I never had to deal with Mrs. Alexander again.

Lisa and I attended high school together but we didn’t cross paths. We had a huge class and circles sometimes stuck to who you went to junior high with. However, several years later, I ran into Lisa at a high school reunion. She is an associate pastor now. I asked her if she remembered praying with me in the restroom before lunch that autumn day so long ago. But, alas…she did not. You see, Lisa was struck by a car as she crossed the street several years ago and very nearly died of her injuries. It left her with some long term memory loss. She was happy to know she helped me though, and we have become good friends.

Lisa recently suffered a heart attack and we were absolutely thrilled when she came to coffee yesterday with the ‘71 Divas. She looks wonderful, healthy, strong. I couldn’t stop hugging her. She asked how Mr. FixIt was. She went all through school with him. Last year, when she found out we were dating, she literally jumped up out of her chair and threw her hands in the air and praised Jesus.

“If there were anyone in the whole wide world I would want the two of you to have, it would be each other. This is PERFECT!” I couldn’t help but laugh and clap along with her exuberance. Lisa is wonderful. She is a straight shooter. She has seen her share of hardships in this life and has come out a loving, giving, God-centric woman and I love her dearly. I just wanted to share her with you today.

Sending you love and light and prayers for continued good health, my friend. ❤

“Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them."” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:19-20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Mother’s Day Weekend

Sat, 12 May 2018 01:30:41 -0600

“My mother’s love is with me always.”

I went to the farm yesterday. I wanted to spend some time in my mother’s childhood home…the home of my heart. I miss my mom and I feel closer to her when I’m in the house she loved so much. Grandma’s house was the epicenter of our universe. She was happiest when she had all her kids and grandkids surrounding her. I can relate to that.

My mom was special…as are all moms, right? She had a heart of gold. She had a laugh that I craved. She was simple. She was stubborn. She was pretty. She was generous. She loved with every ounce of her being. She took care of my brother till the Lord called her home. She was…good.

We butted heads a lot when I was growing up…like most of us do. She insisted on doing things the l-o-n-g way and it made me crazy. She was an excellent seamstress. She basted everything together and was meticulous. I threw things together as fast as I could. That made HER crazy!

She was a terrible cook. But she made a pineapple upside down cake that made you cry it was so good. When microwaves came out, she decided she had to have one to heat up her coffee. That’s when she switched to Folgers Instant. She bought the biggest microwave I have ever seen in my life…to heat up a coffee cup full of water. Oy. Did I mention she made me crazy?

My mother taught me many things but most importantly, she taught me about God. It didn’t stick for a long, long time for me. As a matter of fact, I became a Christian after she passed away, so she never experienced that particular joy. I think the one thing I regret most as a mother is not teaching my children the love of God. They are grown, and they are lovely women. I try to live my life as an example. I love them and miss them very much.

This is my 14th Mother’s Day without my mom. My kids are in Colorado so I won’t see them until I head there this summer. So, when I came back from the farm yesterday, Mr. FixIt had two dozen roses and a beautiful card with a handwritten note in it resting on the kitchen counter. What a sweet, thoughtful man this is. He just makes me smile!!

If you are missing your mom today, my heart is with you, dear one. Losing your mom is such a sad, sad affair. If you are missing your babies, whether they live far away or further…in heaven…my heart breaks for you. I cannot imagine that loss. You are all in my prayers this Mother’s Day Weekend. ❤️

“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

Keep Walking

Fri, 11 May 2018 01:30:52 -0600

“Keep walking, dear one.”

I have several people in my life who are walking a challenging path right now. From my cousin with mesothelioma to a friend’s first grandchild being born with physical challenges. From my friend who is selling the home she and her late husband raised their family in to the beautiful women in my small group from church who are facing some pretty big things right now. There are new widows and new moms and new grandmas out there who need extra love and support today. To all of you who are facing challenges…let me say this.

You are beautiful.

You are stronger than you think.

You are loved.

You are being prayed for.

No matter how difficult and challenging life becomes…

Stand up.

Keep walking.

Keep moving forward.

You are worthy.

You are enough.

You are a Child of God.

It’s ok to cry.

It’s ok to not be ok.

Just hang in there…things will get better. Maybe not right away…but they will get better.

I love you.

❤️

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

#encouragement, #BuildingUp, #love

Gardening

Thu, 10 May 2018 01:30:57 -0600

“Beautiful hibiscus in the West Virginia sunshine.”

In 1986, Hubby #2 joined a medical practice in a small mountain town in Colorado. My daughter was just turning 12 and about to start junior high. I had worked to provide for the family while my husband went through medical school, internship, and residency so when he started his practice, I stayed home to be a full time mom.

Having grown up in West Virginia and spending a good portion of my childhood on my grandparents’ farm, I longed to have a farm of my own. I traveled ahead of my husband to find a place to live. Rentals were few and far between, and when the realtor showed me a five bedroom log house on two acres just outside of town, I was smitten. It had everything I was looking for, except…it was for sale. We had absolutely no money nor did we have any way to get some. The realtor threw out an idea…rent to own. I knew I could get enough money out of my beloved VW Westfalia camper to put down as earnest money. I returned to Denver and told my husband we had a house.

He wasn’t thrilled. I mean, looking back, I can’t blame him. I kind of took advantage of an opportunity that was presented and figured I could get him on board when he saw it. And, after he saw it…he was smitten as well. The house had cathedral ceilings in the living room. It had one whole wall of glass that overlooked the valley with the Red Cliffs and the Flatirons Wilderness beyond. It was incredibly beautiful, and beyond anything we ever could have dreamed of.

One acre was a fenced in pasture. I always wanted a big garden, and here was my opportunity. There were some problems, however. First, Colorado is a semi-arid state prone to drought. Second, it has a short growing season, and just the two miles out our road was enough of a rise in elevation that the growing seasons was a full 2-4 weeks shorter than Denver (which is a full two months shorter than West Virginia). My dream of lush fertile ground was dashed and anything I did manage to raise was either frozen out in the middle of June or ravaged by deer.

When I first came back to West Virginia in 2014 to help my aunt on the farm, I had full intentions of planting a garden in the spring. Things didn’t work out as planned, unfortunately. I ended up traveling for much of the next couple of years. Then Mr. FixIt came along. And, now I have a garden! He tilled in some manure and compost yesterday just in time for a predicted rain storm last night. We’ll set out the tomato plants this weekend along with some bush beans. If I were going to be home all summer, I might do something more ambitious. As it is, there are tons of farmers markets and fruit and vegetable stands. I hope to do some canning this fall for the first time since before Mr. Virgo died. This is this first time I’ve been excited about doing something like this and it feels wonderful. It’s another level of healing, another step forward.

Another thing I’d like to do is build a small greenhouse. Bedding plants are so expensive anymore. There are dozens of pots around the pool and the yard and it would cost a mint to buy bedding plants. I will try raising some of my own seedlings next year. I was telling a friend the other day…I wish I was thirty again. Oh, the things I would do with the access to the land that I have now! Ahhhhh…youth is wasted on the young. ❤️

“Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you. And as I gave you the green plants, I give you everything.” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭9:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Dream a Little Dream of Me 2.0

Sat, 05 May 2018 01:30:54 -0600

“Is this a dream?”

Mr. Virgo has been gone over five years now. In those five years, I have had two or three dreams of him. I’ve wanted more. I begged God for more back in the first couple of years. Just one more conversation. One more hug. Hear his voice one last time. Unfortunately, I had erased all of his voicemails just three days before he died. I had a couple of messages on the answering machine at home, but he didn’t sound happy because he was trying to reach me and kept getting the machine instead. Those just make me sad because he really left great voicemails. I hadn’t heard his voice in so long. I wasn’t sure what he sounded like anymore. Then...he came to me in a dream a couple of nights ago.

In the dream, Mr. FixIt and I were in Florida at a flea market. You know, the kind with the roof but the sides are all open to allow air flow? It was really crowded but no one was looking at each other. We were all busy looking at merchandise. I walked around a small group of women. I was looking down and I saw a pair of familiar men’s shoes. Rockports. With the man in them. I slowly raised my eyes and saw the gray dress pants, the black leather belt, the crisply ironed long sleeved shirt. It was a pale blue. The tie a stylish navy with slight flecks of red. I was so taken by the familiarity of the clothing that it took me a moment to comprehend what was happening. Suddenly, I jerked my eyes upward and there he was! That shock of meticulously groomed silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses. Curiously…he didn’t have a beard. He was clean-shaven when he died. I assumed that must carry over into the afterlife.

I sucked my breath in with a start.

“It’s YOU!” I said.

Then…he spoke to me!

“Well…it’s about time, don’t you think?”

I heard him and saw him as clear as if he were actually standing in front of me. I walked up to him and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close. I laid my head on his chest. I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

“They told me you died.” I whispered.

“Oh, baby doll. I just went somewhere else.” He didn’t offer anything else. Suddenly, I remembered Mr. FixIt was with me. I turned to him and he was looking at an item in the booth next to me. I had a momentary feeling of awkwardness. How was I going to introduce Mr. FixIt to Mr. Virgo? I needn’t have worried because soon it became obvious…Mr. FixIt couldn’t see him.

I turned back to Mr. Virgo. He was watching this new love of mine. He seemed to be studying him. Finally, he turned to me and smiled the sweetest smile.

“You tell him I think he’s doing a great job, will you?” The two men I loved most in the world were just steps apart but a world away from one another with me as the common denominator.

“I will,” I promised. “He’ll love knowing you said that.”

And, with that came the call of the mockingbird in the trumpet vine outside the bedroom window, putting up a ruckus over some interloper getting too near her nest. I woke up.

There was a time in my grief when that would have slayed me. But I woke up feeling so happy that I got to “see” him again. That I got to “hear” him again. That I got to “feel” that big bear hug from this handsome man. Soon…as with all dreams…he began to recede to the back room of my mind. I was tickled to pieces that he got to see Mr. FixIt with me.

“Thank you.” I whispered into the early dawn light. “It was good to see you again. Don’t be such a stranger!” ❤

“Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets,” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭1:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Waking Up

Fri, 27 Apr 2018 01:30:47 -0600

“Knitting Socks with Four Double Point Needles:

My second marriage fell apart in January 2000. In June of 2001, I opened a small needlework shop in Glenwood Springs called Needles & Pins. I lost my shirt with that business. Twice, actually. But, like buying TOW-Wanda and camping helped me heal after losing Mr. Virgo…that little shop helped me heal and find my long lost self-confidence after my 21 year marriage ended. I mostly sold cross-stitch supplies, a little needlepoint, some gift items, and eventually branched out and sold some yarn.

I’m not an accomplished knitter, but I did knit a cute little dress for my first grandchild. I have knit socks and hats and scarves. But once my shop closed and I got rid of most of the inventory, I was pretty burned out on needlework. Since Mr. Virgo died, I haven’t really been able to concentrate on anything like this. I don’t have the attention span to watch a movie, let alone knit something to completion.

We were exploring Kitty Hawk the other day. We were looking for some really good cheese to eat while sitting on the beach and found a little wine and cheese bar called Trio. And, a couple of doors down is a yarn shop. Knitting Addiction is two stories of brightly lit space filled with a cornucopia of yummy yarns. I have always enjoyed knitting socks because it’s a relatively small project that you can work on in the summer without feeling like you’re wearing a winter coat. They go pretty fast, and they make lovely handmade gifts for the special people in your life.

I talked with the shop owner, Jeanne. I told her it had been years since I could concentrate enough to knit. She got it. She has this pattern for socks, she told me. She wrote it herself for people who don’t like terribly complicated stuff but still want to create cool things. Sign me up! We went through the cool yarns and I picked out a couple. Her pattern is knit using four double point needles…three holding stitches and one for working the rows. Now, it’s been twenty years since I knit socks that way. I’ve always used the book “Socks That Soar” which uses two circular needles. I was afraid it would be too much, but I really, really wanted to try.

I sat down that night and looked at the pattern and I could feel that familiar glaze forming over my mind and I thought, “Uh-oh…I’ve just wasted my money.” Then I ran my fingers over the soft yarn. I thought of how my daughter asked me to knit her another pair of socks years ago. She never asks for anything, but I just couldn’t do it. I was determined not to give up. When we were out and about yesterday, I asked Mr. FixIt to drop me off at the yarn shop for a little while. I wanted to sit down with Jeanne for a little refresher course.

Jeanne was wonderful and showed me how to cast on and join in the round. It was like riding a bicycle…I picked it right up. I do have to work on my tension. I take tension VERY seriously…and it shows in my very tight knitting stitches. Jeanne carefully took out my cast on stitches and knit them with the proper tension that I can duplicate.

Here’s something interesting. When I meet people like Jeanne, I am often asked “What do you do?” Then the story comes out about being a writer and a speaker and a gypsy. I tell about TOW-Wanda and The Grand Adventure and the reason behind it. But this time, Spirit said…”Less is more.” So I talked about my needlework shop. Nothing about the blog or loss or Mr. Virgo. Last night, when I was writing this post, I couldn’t remember the shop owner’s name so I went to her website. On it, I found her blog. Her latest post disclosed she had lost “sweet guy” in October. And while she was doing ok, she was still struggling. She asked people to come in with a smile or pictures of the grandbaby with the new woobie you knitted for her. She asked you to make her laugh. Ohhhh, I can SO relate to that.

What made me thank God last night was this…He told me to “go see this lady. Don’t tell her of your pain. Have her help you relearn something you used to love doing. Make her laugh, even when she tells you she is struggling today. And I will renew for you this love affair with yarn.” I love the shoulder taps.

And…I made her laugh. ❤

“For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Sacrosanct

Sat, 14 Apr 2018 01:30:03 -0600

“It’s good to love again.”

Fridays. Since we first started dating, Fridays have been declared “sacrosanct”…too important or valuable to be interfered with. We don’t make plans with anyone on Fridays. That’s OUR day. We go where we want, do what we want. No obligations other than to enjoy each other’s company to the fullest. I’ve come to love Fridays. We look forward all week long to our special day. It’s special because we declared it so.

We packed up from our week at the farm and headed back to the Ponderosa yesterday. We went to Walmart and bought oil and a filter so I could change the oil on my truck before we leave next week for the beach. It was only the second time I’ve changed the oil and Mr. FixIt sat right there and answered any questions I had. He handed me tools. And he offered words of encouragement when things didn’t go quite as smoothly as they had the first time. First, I tried using the creeper…that thing you lay on and roll under the vehicle. The new ramps Mr. FixIt bought aren’t as high as the old ones and with the creeper under me, I was feeling way too cramped. So I scooted back out and started over by wiggling under the truck. The engine was still pretty warm so the oil was runny and when I took the plug out of the oil pan, it sprayed everywhere. All over me…in my hair. What a mess. But, eventually…I got it done.

I have never had a qualm about doing hefty projects around the house, but I always deferred things like changing the oil to the man of the house or the guy at Jiffy Lube. It never occurred to me to do these things. But after Mr. Virgo died, I felt so incompetent at so many things. I vowed I would learn how to do anything that needed doing so I would never feel that vulnerable again. Mr. FixIt is an excellent teacher and has infinite patience with me. At first, I think it bothered him a bit that I wanted to do things myself. It gives him great pleasure to do things for me. Now he seems to get a big kick out of watching me accomplish something and be so proud of myself.

Loving after loss is different. I’m much more independent and assertive than I have ever been. This love encompasses fierce bravery and incredible tenderness. Case in point…I was putting laundry away yesterday when the song “At Last” came on the playlist. Out of the blue, I was standing in Rivers Restaurant on a crisp April day…dancing in Mr. Virgo’s arms. Our first, and only, dance was at our wedding reception. Nine times out of ten, I can hear that song and smile. Not yesterday. I sat on the edge of the bed and cried. It’s a short song. It was soon over and I dried my eyes and went on about my work. Later, I walked through the kitchen and Mr. FixIt was doing dishes. I stopped and watched him for a few moments. When he was finished, he turned and saw me standing there and smiled as he wiped his hands.

“I love you more than I ever dreamed possible,” I said. “And, even with that deep love, I just sat on the bed and cried when “At Last” came on.”

He knows the significance of the song. He opened his arms wide and drew me into his embrace. He held me close and whispered into my hair.

“Of course you did, sweetheart. It brings back memories.”

That’s all. No attempt to jolly me out of it. No rush to move me along and change the subject. Just honor. And love. And support. And validation. No one…no one could ever ask for anything more beautiful than that. What a wonderful man.

I love Fridays. ❤

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

Coveting Spring

Sat, 07 Apr 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“Daffodils by the Cistern”

I set to work yesterday, determined to finish the taxes. I sorted through every bag of papers I brought to the farm with me, only to come up two papers short. By the time I discovered this, it was mid-afternoon so I texted Mr. FixIt. He was due to arrive in a few hours.

“Change of plans.” I texted. “I’m coming home.”

He is a patient and flexible man, thank goodness.

“Quince on the Creek Bank”

I did a quick walkabout and caught some pictures of the flowers at the farm before I packed up the important stuff and headed to The Ponderosa. As I drove through the countryside, I marveled at the earth waking up all around me. I came around a bend and the pasture near an old, broken down farmhouse was dotted with daffodils. Great splashes of yellow spread out before me and I smiled. Someone…long ago…planted all these little bulbs in this field. I knew. There was once a woman who coveted spring as much as me. I could imagine her living in what may have seemed a hovel…or perhaps, a castle to her. She worked hard to keep her family fed and her farm in order. Maybe she bought a bag of little daffodil bulbs at the feed store with her egg money…an impulse purchase meant to bring joy in the springs to come. And, long after she was dead and gone, I swung around that bend in the road and thought of the nameless, faceless woman with a love for all things fresh and new.

“Grandma’s Daffodils “

I whispered my thanks to her and drove on. ❤

““Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭12:27-31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Source of Peace

Wed, 21 Mar 2018 01:30:31 -0600

“The Lord is my refuge, my source of Peace.”

I worked again yesterday copying my posts from the Marshmallow Ranch Facebook page over to www.marshmallowranch.com. I feel this sense of urgency to get that finished, especially with the negative press FB has been receiving of late. In the past, diving back into my early writings took me to dark places I really had no business visiting very often. I remember during the first year after becoming a widow, I took TOW-Wanda to southwest Colorado and parked her on my dear friend Sue’s ten acres overlooking Mesa Verde. Sue is my yogi earth mother friend who holds me in her heart from long distances in space and time. We just have this beautiful connection. I remember sitting with her, quietly having tea and watching the abundance of birds at the numerous feeders on her veranda. I was avoiding writing because it was too painful.

“You must write now…simply BECAUSE it is painful. If you wait too long, you will lose your voice. The angst will be healed and we will miss feeling your heart in your words.”

As I’m copying my early work, I can see what she means. I read the emotions in every word. The ups. The downs. The mask of happiness. The mask of relationships. The mask of strength. Inside I was screaming down the hallways of my 3:00 mind, jiggling doorknobs…desperate to get out of that hell I found myself in.

Five years out, I see that pain differently. I see the place when I started finding my refuge in God. When I truly learned to seek His face…His peace. I remember clearly the day I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “You must tell them where you find your peace.” I remember clearly arguing with Him and saying, “Oh, no…I really don’t!” And…as in most arguments I have with God…He won.

I try to walk my faith out in my writing without beating people over the head with it. My grandma always said you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. I cannot change anyone’s views on faith. I don’t even try. I just tell you how I feel. I tell you what has worked for me. I tell you where I find my peace. I lay it all down here. Pick it up. Don’t pick it up. That’s not for me to decide. I know there are people who grieve without faith. I will never criticize another’s walk. I have enough trouble walking my own path. Personally, I cannot imagine doing this without God. He has brought me great comfort and peace. He is my refuge. But I love you and embrace you no matter what your grief walk looks like. I just pray my words help you in some way.

Grief is like wearing a pair of stiff leather shoes without socks…maybe with some gravel in them. Every step hurts worse than the last. You get blisters that break open and bleed. There are times you can barely walk for the pain. At some point, you think to shake the gravel out…like when I stopped looking at pictures of my dead husband in his casket. There…that’s a little easier. Then in time, you think maybe bandaids will fix everything and take the pain away…like when I tried dating WAY too soon only to find the wounds festering when I ripped the bandages off. Finally, I thought to ask God to take over and He led me to a cool spring and gave me a thick pair of comfortable wool socks to put on. Ahhhhh…..MUCH better. Finally, there comes a time when the leather has conformed, molding and cradling to your feet and carrying you step by step through your life. These worn-in shoes will never fall off…will never wear out. They’ll be there forever, reminding you of how awful they were when you first put them on. And one day, you will look down and smile because they’ll remind you…not so much of the pain, but of the love you walked with before you got them.

They become love shoes. ❤️

““I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

God Always Knows

Sun, 11 Mar 2018 01:30:21 -0600

“Lewis Cemetery”

As I’m sure you can tell, I’ve been dreading the fifth angelversary of Mr. Virgo’s death tomorrow. I’ve been really struggling the last week…to the point one of my dear friends contacted me yesterday to see how I was doing. Actually, by yesterday morning I was feeling much better, but I still felt something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then a chain of events happened that directed my day and by last night I was lifted back up and set on solid ground. Here’s how it went down.

First, I slept a solid ten hours and awoke feeling refreshed. I’m not a terrific sleeper as a rule, but I slept like a stone. Mr. FixIt informed me a neighbor passed away and he needed to go to the funeral home. I assumed he would go without me, and quite frankly I didn’t think going to a funeral home when I was feeling down about my own loss was such a terrific idea. Then, he asked me if I wanted to go. We were at a funeral last weekend. Here, we were just going to the viewing. I didn’t know anyone, but something told me I should just go…so I dressed and went along.

I was introduced around to the family. I hugged the widow and spoke quietly with her for a bit, offering what comfort a stranger (yet a fellow widow) could give. I stood at the coffin, thinking the horrible memories of five years ago would come crashing on my head at any moment…but they did not. Instead of seeing Mr. Virgo in his casket, I saw a man who was very much missed by his best friend and my heart went out to her. I felt honored to be there and not sick or devastated. My dread started to dissipate.

We ran home to change and Mr. FixIt asked what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to run over to the cemetery where my great grandfather is buried. I hadn’t been there since I was a teenager and I wanted to see if there were any other family members from my tree buried there. So, from the funeral home to a cemetery. What could go wrong?

The day was brisk but sunny. As we drove out the two lane blacktop, we passed a field and I did a double take. There, standing in the middle of a pasture, was a young man…high school age, perhaps…with a music stand playing a trombone! The sight was so incongruous Mr. FixIt and I both burst out laughing. The cemetery was around the next bend and as we walked among the tombstones, the timbre of the trombone wafted gently on the breeze over the far ridge. I could not help but smile, feeling God was sending me a sweet gift.

The cemetery was a sight when we arrived. All of the flower containers had been knocked over, flowers strewn among the graves, flags honoring fallen soldiers laying on the ground…some half covered with leaves. We were preparing to leave when I turned and said, “I can’t leave them like this.” So, we walked around, straightening up, calling the dead ones by name. I remember so often going to visit Mr. Virgo’s grave across the road from our house in Colorado. I laid stones around the perimeter…one stone from every trip I took. I realized one of the things I was missing…and hurting over…was not being able to visit Mr. Virgo’s grave tomorrow. Instead, God lead me to visit an ancestor I never knew. Again…the feeling of dread lifted more.

We were so close to the farm, we decided to go on out. Whenever I am feeling down, that farm is my panacea. I fed the kitties and walked through the rooms…touching the furniture, the doors, my grandparents bed. I walked around the house and checked on my ‘67 Franklin camper…”Joy”. I turned to Mr. FixIt.

“Can we take her over to your place soon and start working on her?” I asked hopefully.

“You bet we can.” Mr. FixIt smiled and gave me a big hug.

Lift, lift, lift.

We stopped and visited my cousin’s wife at her barn. She was feeding the chickens and the big white rabbit named Isabella.

Lift, lift, lift.

We drove to town and had supper at my favorite diner.

Lift, lift, lift.

We came home and I sat down to write. My dear friend who had been so concerned about me yesterday morning called and asked if I felt better after my drive. I really did! You know…every year is going to be another year since Mr. Virgo died. There will be times of sorrow. There will be reminders and waves of grief. I know I have the added blessing of having Mr. FixIt in my life. His heart is big enough to hold me AND Mr. Virgo. Such a good, good man. Letting go and letting God lift me up was the solution all along. There’s nothing God and a little sunshine can’t fix! ❤

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭60:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Change Your Focus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

West Virginia Wanderings

Wed, 28 Feb 2018 02:30:18 -0600

At the WVU Basketball Game

After having breakfast with a granddaughter who is a student at WVU, we headed off to explore the area further south where my ancestors were from. I have this thing for cemeteries. I am always curious as to who these people were. Do they still have visitors? Do they have people who remember them and tell their stories? Or has it been so long that all of their loved ones are dead and gone and no one knows to even look for them. Or…worse yet…no one cares.

We drove through three counties before we finally found the cemetery I was originally looking for. But we found surprises along the way. First, when I was looking for my step-great grandmother…the only one I knew…I found she was buried beside her first husband, under his name. No mention of her last husband, my great grandfather. I am not surprised. He was a bit of a scoundrel and that is probably one bit of family history her kids would like to forget.

The next place we stumbled upon was the West Virginia National Cemetery. I did not realize there are 135 national cemeteries under the auspices of the Department of Veterans Affairs’ National Cemetery Administration in 40 states (and Puerto Rico) as well as 33 soldier’s lots and monument sites. The West Virginia cemetery is vastly smaller than the most famous…Arlington National Cemetery. And still…the identical small white headstones stretched in meticulous formation across the rolling hills of green in a sobering reminder of those who have served our country, many giving their lives for the privilege. I was humbled by that.

WV National Cemetery

The last stop was Harmony Grove Cemetery near Grafton, West Virginia. I was looking for one set of great grandparents and had read the death certificate incorrectly. They weren’t buried there after all. As we were driving through on our way out, a name jumped out at me and I called out…”Stop the truck!” I jumped out and ran down a lane of old headstones. Somewhere I had caught a glimpse of the name Mauller, but it got lost in the rows and blended in. I retraced my steps from the original vantage point and there they were! I was so excited to find the graves of two of my 3rd great grandparents along with a couple of their many children. I talked to them and told them who I was and how I came to be. I even have a picture of “Tillie” in my family tree. I was really excited to get this surprise piece of the puzzle.

My 3rd Great Grandparents

I often use Find-a-Grave to research where my ancestors are buried. Most of the time, someone has snapped a picture of the headstone and I can add it to my tree. I’ve had a picture of these headstones for years but never saw them. But here’s the bummer part of the story. When I got home, I looked Harmony Grove up on Find-a-Grave and…would you believe…there’s about twenty more of my family buried there and I didn’t see them!!! It was getting late and Mr. FixIt and I were both getting pretty hungry and tired and I just didn’t do my due diligence. It’s ok, though. This allows for another nice drive in the country. AND…we had dinner at one of our favorite restaurants…Olivierio’s in Clarksburg. The BEST Italian food!

To top the day off, we stopped at the farm to feed the kitties and decided to stay the night so I am snuggled in grandma’s bed as I write this, listening to the water in the creek, and feeling so rich and complete. We remarked at dinner that we feel like we’ve been on vacation for a week and it cost just a little over $100! What a wonderful break. And…this weekend is a Girl Camper trip so stay tuned for some camping (ok, cabin-ing) fun!!! ❤️

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

Date Night

Tue, 27 Feb 2018 02:30:01 -0600

“Budding Branches”

Mr. FixIt and I live a pretty frugal life. We are careful in our spending so that we can afford small indulgences now and then. We both came from mixed backgrounds. We’ve both known what it’s like to have very little and to have much. We have a healthy appreciation of both. Because we came together later in life, money will be something we watch carefully. We have become good stewards of what God has given us.

There was a time when either one of us would have gone to games and concerts without thinking of the cost. And to be honest, now that we give a great deal of consideration toward our outings, we actually enjoy and remember them more. I can’t tell you much about the vacation to Hawaii with Hubby #2, but I can tell you where we sat, where we ate, who we played, and the nature of the basketball game we attended a year ago. Of course, the company you keep makes a difference in how memorable an occasion is, don’t you agree?

We drove up to Morgantown yesterday to see WVU beat Texas Tech…soundly. It was a good game. Not nearly as tight and exciting as the Baylor game last year, but it was Senior Night and the graduating seniors were honored. It was fun to see them go out on a winning note.

As we walked to dinner from our hotel, we remarked at what a gorgeous, sunny afternoon it was. The trees are budding as a result of the recent warming trend which may end up being a bad thing if we get a late frost. The variety of birds is increasing and it is such a lovely thing to hear nature’s orchestra filling out.

We get to take one of the grandchildren out for breakfast this morning as she is a student here. Afterward, we are going to explore around the area where my ancestors lived. We stopped at Prickett’s Fort on our way up to Morgantown yesterday. I have people in my family tree buried there. It’s a fun, overnight trip, not terribly expensive, and filled with love. ❤️

“She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:27‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Love Has a Name

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

“My Love Has a Name…Jesus”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

youtu.be/cZOBtpJ0_…

I’ll Pray for You

Sat, 24 Feb 2018 02:30:31 -0600

“I’ll Pray for You”

How many times do we say that? Something happens to someone and we automatically say, “I’ll pray for you!” We hear of a tragedy and we say, “I’ll pray for you!” How many times do we say that…and forget to pray? Or, how about when you’re scrolling through Facebook and someone asks for prayers. We might type “Prayers!” Or “Done!” Or my personal favorite…”???” A furtive “God, please give this woman what she’s asking for.” These are good things, don’t get me wrong. But we can do so much better.

I was working one afternoon after Mr. Virgo died and I noticed one of my coworkers was tearful. She was trying to hide it at her desk and I didn’t want to intrude. I got halfway down the hall when the Holy Spirit whispered…

“Go to her…now.”

“Awwww….c’mon. I’ve got a list of phone calls that would choke a horse! I haven’t even started the pharmacy refills yet. And I need to fax those reports. I’m really busy. Someone will help her. I’ll pray for her tonight when I get home.”

“Go to her…NOW!”

“Oooooooh…you mean…NOW! Sure!”

I turned on my heel and went back to my coworker’s desk. I didn’t say anything. She didn’t look at me, but she knew I was there. Her shoulders slumped and shook with silent sobs. I placed my hand on her shoulder and she immediately leaned into me and cried harder.

I whispered. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now…and I don’t need to know. But if you want, I would love to pray with you right now. Would that be ok?”

She whispered back, “Yes! Yes, please!”

I closed the door to her office, knelt beside her and took her hand. And prayed. I prayed for God’s love to wrap around my friend and comfort her. I prayed for strength and courage in whatever she was facing. I prayed God would use whatever trial she was walking through to bring her closer to him so she would know there was someone who always loved her, always had her back.

It didn’t take long…just a couple minutes. My friend felt so much better afterwards and my work was still there, waiting for me. I felt better, too. Because, I actually did what I said I would do. By praying with my friend, I did more than placate her to make her feel better. I called on the living God…the Highest Power…to come into the situation and work on it.

I once heard of a man in our church that was going through a rough patch. His friend was talking to him on the phone. They were both on the highway but several miles apart. The man asked his friend with the troubles to pull off at the next wide spot. Soon, he caught up and there, along I-70…the man placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, lifted his other hand to the sky, and prayed. Right there for all to see.

I don’t think you should ever miss the opportunity to pray with somebody. Of course, pray FOR them anytime. But pray WITH them whenever you can. It’s good for everyone. ❤

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“I Think We Woke Up The Children...”

Thu, 22 Feb 2018 02:30:02 -0600

“Protests…Then and Now”

Those of us who were coming of age in the ‘60s remember the protests of the day. Slogans like “Make Love, Not War” are being replaced with “Arms Are For Hugging”. For the last several years I’ve been wondering…”Where are the hippies?” The adolescents of my generation changed the world. It has been frustrating to see subsequent generations become so complacent with the status quo.

I’m not choosing sides here, although I have my own personal opinions and beliefs to be sure. I don’t advocate “taking sides” as much as I have wished for the kids to wake up and care about something. Anything. This is how change and growth occur in a democratic society.

I applaud the young people standing up and speaking out. My heart both broke for them for the subject they must address and swelled with pride to see such passion and eloquence in their plea. This is our future. I would much rather see students rally against violence in schools than to see them give up and give in. I think they didn’t realize the strength of numbers. I think they got fed up and fired up and I hope they don’t back down.

Edited*: That being said, I have been reminded by a caring reader of the ugly side of the “Make Love, Not War” movement. Our soldiers were subjected to incredible disrespect when they returned from Vietnam and there is absolutely no room for that in the world. Mr. Virgo was in Vietnam and he told me how badly he was treated when he came home. My point here is, I’m glad to see this generation stand for something instead of the disinterested me-first attitudes of so many kids growing up in the generations since the ‘60s. I know that is a generalization. Peaceful, respectful protest with meaningful, informed dialogue can effect lasting change.

I’ve been a placard carrier since the first political rally I attended. I have stood alone in a sea of opponents to support my beliefs. I have bucked the system. There came a point when I got tired. Disillusioned. Overwhelmed. We didn’t always get it right but it thrills me to see the children waking up, no matter what their call is. Another day…another dawning of the Age of Aquarius. ✌

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."” ‭‭Joshua‬ ‭1:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Taste of Spring

Wed, 21 Feb 2018 02:30:19 -0600

“Burger al Fresco”

One of the upsides of Facebook memories is documented progress. One of my readers shared a post yesterday that I wrote a year ago. I was declaring how gorgeous spring is in West Virginia. I observed the earth coming back to life, the shoots of spring bulbs exploding from the moist soil, the greening up of the world. I spoke of all the new babies being born in the fields surrounding the farm. And I talked about budding romances and how I was ready to try again. And here I am…a year later and in a relationship with a wonderful man. He is a constant reminder of how good God is to me.

We awoke yesterday to the most gorgeous of early spring days. I had a dream. I don’t remember my dreams like I used to before Mr. Virgo died. And I seldom dream of him. I dreamt I was supposed to send Mr. Virgo a text every day with a scripture in it. Suddenly, he stopped responding to my texts. I looked everywhere for him. I asked everyone if they had seen him and they just stared blankly back at me. Six months went by and then a year, then three. No word. Then, out of the blue, someone told me he had “moved on”. I felt confused. Did he move on as in, he left me for someone else? When I was fully awake, I realized what “moved on” really meant. I had an instant wave of the creepy crawlies on the backs of my arms, then it went away and I was fine. Grief visits fleetingly sometimes…like a sparrow flitting in the brush just out of view.

The temperature got up over 80 degrees. We had coffee by the pool and then headed to the farm. We cleaned inside and out. Mr. FixIt filled the bird feeders. I changed the spotlight on the three story barn. We stopped at the neighborhood grocer and bought a pound of fresh ground hamburger and sliced longhorn cheese. When we got home, we took the grill from the garage and put it on the deck by the pool and grilled burgers outside. It was sheer heaven to sit out in shorts and enjoy the evening.

Some days get burned in your memory to keep for all time. That was yesterday. There were a lot of trees down from the saturated soil and the brisk winds earlier in the day. Baby calves lay in the muddy fields by their mamas. A cardinal sang in the forsythia bush by the side gate. Mr. FixIt took the drone he got for Christmas and went outside to “play” after supper. I heard a tree fall in the woods beyond the field. A rooster crowed in the distance. Neighbors waved as they passed by. My heart felt full and ached with the beauty of it all. Jesus promised he would make all things new one day. Spring is his way of giving us a taste of things to come.

I am all too aware of how fragile this life is. It could be gone tomorrow. So I practice my word of the year and stay present. And I thank God for every moment. ❤️

“He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”” ‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Love is an Action Word

Mon, 19 Feb 2018 02:30:31 -0600

I’m doing something different today. Usually I write my essay then I go read and find a bible verse that best suits my message of the day. It’s easier that way for me because I look for verses about a certain theme, read and study them, then choose the one that speaks to me. To take a verse and pontificate on it seems a bit foreign after writing for nearly five years the other way. But today…I want to talk to you about Romans 12:6-8 specifically.

As we always do, Mr. FixIt and I stood and held hands as we prayed and sang with the praise team in church yesterday. And, as I always do on the third song, I closed my eyes and prayed. I thanked God for all he has blessed us with. I thanked him for bringing me this fine man to stand with me in church to praise with me. I recited the Prayer of Jabez and asked that he bless me indeed, that he expand my territory, walk with his hand over me, and keep evil far from me that I may not feel pain. Then I asked…”If you have a specific message for me today, please deliver it to me through Pastor Justin.” Amen

We’ve been doing a series entitled “Love Handles”. Not the muffin tops above our jeans from eating too many Oreos, but the action word…LOVE. The love we take out into the world. As Christians, we are called to be different. We aren’t supposed to go out and blend into the world. We should be shining the light of the Holy Spirit out into the world so brightly that people take notice when we walk into a room. Pastor Justin’s first Bible reading yesterday was Romans 12:6-8. It tells us that God, in his infinite grace, has given us all gifts for doing certain things very well…be it prophesy, service, teaching, encouraging, giving, leadership, or kindness. If you have a talent that comes to you easily and you do it very well, that is your gift. That is what you are here to share.

Tears came to my eyes when I listened to the verse being read. “If God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you.” Prophesy has several meanings but the one I believe was being directed to me was “preach”. As I have grown in my faith and through this blog, I was led by the Holy Spirit to include scripture in my writing. If you were here when that started, you may remember the conversation I had with God in church when I got that message loud and clear and I argued vehemently against it. I did NOT want to “be that person.” I didn’t want to be “preachy” and turn people off.

There have been instances when I see that people have “unliked” this page when I get too “churchy”. But I have to say, the most interaction this page receives is when my post is truly aligned with my heart, and thus…my faith. When I share my truth, my stories, through the lens of faith…they seem to reach through the miles and touch hearts. I’ve been feeling God nudging me to continue in that direction. That doesn’t mean every post here is going to be a sermon, because it isn’t. What it means is, I’m going to be a little less worried about what people think when I talk about God. It’s really easy to talk about God in a room full of believers. It is not nearly so easy to prophesy to those who don’t believe the same way I do. God has given me a gift of words. It is my duty to put them to the best use I can. I hope you will stick around and see where this goes because I think it’s going to get interesting. ❤

“So we are to use our different gifts in accordance with the grace that God has given us. If our gift is to speak God’s message, we should do it according to the faith that we have; if it is to serve, we should serve; if it is to teach, we should teach; if it is to encourage others, we should do so. Whoever shares with others should do it generously; whoever has authority should work hard; whoever shows kindness to others should do it cheerfully.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:6-8‬ ‭GNB‬‬

The Mountain

Sun, 18 Feb 2018 02:30:26 -0600

“My Hope is in You Alone” - MercyMe

I was writing last night and listening to a channel on Amazon Music called “Relaxing Christian Music”. MercyMe came on and sang “Even If You Don’t”. It’s about those times when your faith is challenged by the hardships you face in life. It made me think of the losses so many are facing. There are seventeen mothers and fathers preparing to lay their children to rest this week. It is easy to ask questions like, “Where was God during all this?” “How can God let bad things happen to innocent people…especially children?”

Life can be really difficult. It can be filled with challenges and unfulfilled dreams. Disappointments. Hurts. Horrors. And…it can be filled with absolutely unmovable mountains.

It’s easier to maintain our faith when the skies are sunny and life is good. When we are knee deep in blessings and goodness rains down on us like a spring shower, we’re good. But…what happens when the darkness comes? How do we maintain our faith when God seems to have abandoned us and is far, far away?

God is capable of all things. I know he can do anything. I’ve seen him do it. When I was a little girl and I sat at my grandma’s knee, I asked her how she knew Jesus was who he said he was. How did she know he really walked on water? She smiled knowingly and patted my hand. “You just have to have faith, pet.” she said in her wise grandma way. It took me most of my life to absorb that…and to believe it.

Faith.

What is faith? The Bible tells us faith is the “substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The substance of my hope is a loving God who can move mountains. The evidence of things not seen is when he refuses and I still believe in him.

Sometimes God refuses to move the mountain that is in your way because that mountain is in HIS plan…not yours. My biggest mountain was losing Mr. Virgo. God knew that could shake my faith. So he let me see something. He let me see the essence of my husband’s spirit as it left his body. I was forever changed. Not only by the loss itself, but by the certainty that we go someplace else when we die, we are not alone and there is a power far greater than me at work in the world. That power…to me…is God. I will not understand the whys until I get where I am going…but I know the WHO.

This has been a difficult year so far. There has been so much loss in the world. So many unmovable mountains. When I face these times, I find leaning into God and trusting him is the only way to get through it.

He CAN move mountains. And…sometimes he chooses not to. It is the pure essence of faith when you can still believe in God when you have trouble seeing the evidence of his existence.

My HOPE is in him…even when he doesn’t answer.

MercyMe - Even If You Don’t https://youtu.be/B6fA35Ved-Y

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:1‬ ‭KJV‬‬

My Funny Valentine

Wed, 14 Feb 2018 02:30:46 -0600

“My Funny Valentine”

You know this day will come. Well…you certainly hope it does. Mr. Virgo didn’t get this far. He died at sixty-two. Mr. FixIt brought my mail home from town yesterday. I was browsing through it when I noticed an envelope from the Department of Health and Human Services. I thought it was just an advertisement but when I opened it…it was my Medicare Card.

Wow.

I had a rush of feelings. I felt…o-l-d. For about two minutes. What else? Sad…for a minute. I didn’t think sixty-five years would go by so fast. Humbled? Check. Grown up? Yeah, ok. Grateful? Definitely. Relieved? Oh, yes! My insurance costs will go down greatly. It took a few minutes till I worked my way through to the money, but once I got there, I was fine.

What a privilege it is to get to this point in my life. I’m alive and healthy. I know…Mr. Virgo is gone. And the wife of one of my dear classmates has been seriously ill and in the hospital for the last six weeks. Mr. FixIt’s cousin had a massive stroke on Sunday. I have every blessing I could ask for. I have no business feeling bummed because I’m going to be sixty-five this summer.

So, I’ve reached a major landmark in my life…a benchmark, as it were. I’m happy. I’m proud. I’m excited to see what comes next!

What an amazing Valentine, eh?!?! It can’t beat the pink roses, chocolates, and sweet card Mr. FixIt gave me…but it’s a close second! ❤

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭46:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I Am Enough

Wed, 07 Feb 2018 02:30:52 -0600

“I Am Enough”

A friend of mine posts these really great inspirational messages on her Facebook page. She comes up with original questions, collections of photos surrounding a theme, and generally spreads love and light throughout the world…with an occasional “f-bomb” thrown in for emphasis. Her name is Barbara. I think she should write a book or have a syndicated newsletter or something because I never see her stuff without feeling uplifted and in awe. I love her.

Yesterday she posted the following question:

WHO ARE YOU? Answer without: Name, Job, Things you Did, Friends

As I always do with her thought provoking posts…I sat and thought. I made a cup of tea. I stared out the window. I listened to a recording of ocean waves. And…I sat and thought some more. I could answer many things. Christian. Gypsy. Dreamer. Giver. Lover. Friend. But those things only answer a part of the question with those parameters. I decided on this…

I Am Enough.

When this picture was taken, I was visiting my dear friend, Patti from Buffalo Baking Company in California. I had just completed a few of my big “firsts”. My first foray into the world of dating. HUGE mistake on the dating end. BIG help on the “having a shoulder to cry on” end. It didn’t turn out very well for either of us, unfortunately. Too much…WAY too soon. I had survived our anniversary, our birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. And I headed to the west coast to stay with a woman I had never met in person…I only knew her through this blog. But I knew her heart and she is good and she loved on me for a week.

I had it in my head that once the clock struck midnight and 2013 turned into 2014, I could say…”He died LAST YEAR”. Somehow I thought that would sweep up the wreckage of my life from the floor where it fell eight months earlier. It would be the glue to piece my heart back together. On this day…New Year’s Day 2014…we drove to Half Moon Bay play tourist. We walked the beach, browsed the shops, ate fabulous seafood, and enjoyed each other’s company.

When we got to the beach, I asked if I could have a moment alone. I walked to the water’s edge and talked to Mr. Virgo. I told him how much I loved him. I let a little piece of him go free. I placed a few strands of his hair into the foam around my freezing bare feet. And I cried. As I was walking back to Patti and her husband, I saw she had her camera poised and I threw up my hands as if to say, “Ta Da!!! That’s done!!!”

Oh…I was SO naive.

I only THOUGHT I was done. I thought the New Year would bring a new me…sans tears, anxiety, sleepless nights throwing up, fits of rage and depression, and deep melancholia. It was far from it. It only opened my eyes to the stark reality that this really WAS real. He really WAS gone. And now, I got the opportunity to feel it all without that protective gauze of grief sheltering my weary heart and mind from the full blow. Now I was raw, open, searing with the painful presence of daily life…without him. Without my heart. Without my mind. At least as I had known it.

That second year was exactly like holding a sword into the white hot heat of a forge. It tempered me. It made me stronger so that when I was beaten, I held my edge. I became sharp and strong. I was honed into a new version of me.

When you look at the edge of a well-honed sword, you do not see a sharp, straight line. You see little bits and fragments and fingers of metal that have been forced to line up in the same direction. But there are chips and divots and feathers of steel lining up like soldiers marching in formation. Yet, zoom back out and you can cut a watermelon in midair with one easy stroke.

When you hone a sword, there is a stopping point. There is a place where you say…that is enough. If you keep going, the blade doesn’t get any sharper. It just wears away. This is where I am on this journey now. If I keep grinding away at this, I just get worn till I’m useless. There was that tipping point somewhere along the line where I said to myself…I Am Enough. This is good…this life I have built. I have surrounded myself with love and light. God, in his infinite Mercy, has given me more hearts to love and more time to love them. If my edge should dull…and it will…I will put my feet to the flame again and get strong and sharp. Over and over and over…ad infinitum. It is what we do. It is the best we can do. It is ALL we can do. Do the work. Walk through the flames. Become stronger. And proclaim to the world…

I. Am. Enough. And, my darling friend…you are, too!

❤️

“being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:6‬ ‭NIV11‬‬

The Eagles Have Landed!

Mon, 05 Feb 2018 02:30:14 -0600

Eagles win the Super Bowl!

Everyone loves an underdog. In a Google poll, only a handful of states hoped for a Patriots win, even though they were predicted to win by a substantial margin.

The game was tight. Philadelphia held the lead till they faltered in the third quarter when they seemed to run out of steam. Or, more accurately, Tom Brady got a fire lit under his team…finally. For a few brief moments, the Patriots led till a fumble picked up by the Eagles gave the birds some wings.

All through the game, I kept calling up to Mr. Virgo. “Are you watching this???” “OMGosh! Can you believe this???” Mr. FixIt laughed. I have no shame. I will call on the ghost of my late husband to go down on that field and trip the opponents’ quarterback if I have to.

It literally came down to the last few seconds of the game when an incomplete pass gave the Eagles their very first Super Bowl win. Mr. Virgo watched them religiously. He hoped. He dreamed. And they always failed him. They always broke his heart. I wish he could have seen that game last night! I have a feeling maybe he did. In the post game interviews and presentation of the Vince Lombardi Trophy, each player gave credit to God first. I was so proud. I cried. These are men of character. Gone are the shameful days of Michael Vick. These men worked hard and, even after losing their franchise quarterback to an injury earlier in the season, they managed to pull off an unimaginable feat and beat the famed New England Patriots. Within moments of the win, my brother called from Colorado to share the joy of the win with me.

We had family with us all afternoon. We had game day food. We had an incredible game with a glorious win. We had credit given where credit was due. sigh It was a really wonderful day. ❤️ ? ❤️

“But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” ‭‭Mark‬ ‭10:31‬ ‭NIV

Skeletons in the Closet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Digging in the Past

Sat, 03 Feb 2018 02:30:31 -0600

My Ancestors

I received an e-mail from my cousin’s son the other day through the ancestry.com website. He was asking for permission to look at my family tree. He’s been doing a little research to give to his niece when she’s old enough to take interest and since I have ten times the number of names in my tree over his, he wanted a peek. I said yes, of course.

I mentioned in my post yesterday that I had discovered a long lost cousin in my long time friend and in the process, I downloaded the Ancestry app again. It had been quite some time since I had delved into genealogy because, quite frankly, I have a tendency to dive in and stay there for months at a time. Seriously, I’ve needed an intervention before this. I have nearly 6,000 names in my tree, if that tells you anything about the time I spend (waste?) on this stuff.

Sometime in the last couple of years, I sent in a DNA sample to Ancestry. Nothing much came of it for a while. I got my readout with no real surprises save for <1% Finnish. Then, as more and more people did the test, more and more connections have been made. I downloaded the AncestryDNA app and there’s an amazing interactive map that shows the ancestors I have been genetically linked to, where they were from, when they came to the United States, and where they settled. There are thousands of connections….from 2nd cousins to far distant relatives.

Along with these new connections come the items in their corresponding trees. Certificates of birth, marriage, and death. Deeds and wills. Censuses. City directories. Obituaries. Cemetery locations. All interesting and they fill in a lot of blanks. But the BEST sunken treasures are the photographs of ancestors you’ve never met…you’ve never seen. Like this picture, for instance. That dapper man in the hat standing in the center is my second great grandfather…Daniel. His wife, Lydia, is seated in front and slightly to his left. They had thirteen children. He lived a long life of seventy-five years and died in 1897 in his hometown. His grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War. One of his sons…my great grandfather, Benjamin…is the gentleman standing on the far left.

I’ve never felt more connected to my ancestry as I do living here in West Virginia. The very ground cries out their names, the hills echo their stories. I have a lot on my plate right now, but I can’t help diving in just a bit and see what’s new out there. My tree has leaves everywhere meaning there’s a boatload of hints to follow up on. If I go too far down the rabbit hole, send in the troops! ❤️

“And now it is because of my hope in what God has promised our ancestors that I am on trial today.” ‭‭Acts‬ ‭26:6‬ ‭NIV11‬‬

#ancestry, #knowledge, #family

The Smallest of Worlds

Fri, 02 Feb 2018 02:30:10 -0600

“Charley Chadock - My Great Grandfather”

Sharon and I graduated from high school together. Although we didn’t “hang out” and she may not have known me from Adam back then, everyone knew who she was. Her name put her at the end of the line in a graduating class of nearly 800 students. We knew we were about done on graduation night when they called out Sharon’s name.

I moved away two years after high school…about as far away as I could get…England. I followed Hubby #1 there when he was in the Air Force. From there I lived in Colorado for forty years. Sharon and I ran into each other at a couple of reunions, maybe. I don’t really remember. However, once I moved back to West Virginia, I longed for my local coffee group and decided to gauge the interest of my high school friends.

Gathering for coffee on a Saturday morning wasn’t something these gals had done on a regular basis. Being the rabble rouser and resident cheerleader, I gathered a handful of friends to meet me at the Historic Blennerhassett Hotel for a Starbucks. What started out slow has gained momentum and we now have a monthly gathering of around fifteen of the ‘71 Divas for a couple hours of caffeine fueled “therapy”. Sharon is one of our regulars.

I love all the Divas. They’ve become an inner circle of devoted friends. I enjoy Sharon’s dry sense of humor and the way she shoots straight from the hip…telling it like it is. You have no problem knowing exactly what Sharon is thinking and I love that about her. I consider her a dear friend.

A couple of nights ago, I sent her a private message to see how she was doing. I mentioned in our conversation that I’d been spending most of my time at Mr. FixIt’s since his surgery. I told her where he lived and she said her great grandmother was from near here. When she told me the family name, I nearly fell out of my chair! Chadock. My mother’s maiden name!

Chadock is an uncommon name. Historic documents often have spelling variations so sometimes you see it spelled Chaddock, Shaddock, Shattuck, and sometimes even Chadwick. I recognized the name she gave me and quickly pulled up ancestry.com to confirm it. And there she was! Her great grandmother was my great grandfather’s sister. Sharon and I share the same great great grandparents making us 3rd cousins!

Unbelievably small world! As we discussed it come more, I came to find out another of our classmates is a cousin through the same line. Ok, West Virginia isn’t a huge state. Parkersburg isn’t a huge city. But Chadock is a rare name and we were just flabbergasted to discover we are related.

Sharon and I will get together soon and compare our genealogy notes. I’ll introduce her to more of her kin she didn’t know she had. And I’ve added yet another member to my ever expanding family. Mr. FixIt and I were just discussing how large my family has gotten by adding his large family to mine. I never dreamed I’d have this many people to call “mine”. It makes my heart swell! ❤️

“But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children—” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭103:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

#genealogy, #family, #cousins

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Thu, 01 Feb 2018 02:30:00 -0600

“The Winter Tree”

I sat in the family room yesterday, working on my laptop. As I was installing my tax software, I looked over and caught the sun gleaming through the branches of the tree that still stands in front of the picture window. Do I still call it a Christmas tree now that it’s February? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call it a Valentine tree.

I contemplated taking it down…for about two minutes. Then I said…”Nah, we love it!” So there it stands. It serves many purposes. It brings a lovely ambient light to the room in the evenings as we sit and enjoy this comfortable space we created. The blue-grey walls take on a deeper, muted tone in the pale white light. The mechanical angel on top continues her slow dance. I have the lights set on a timer to come on at 5:30. This is where I notice another benefit to leaving the tree up. When I first decorated it and set the timer, it had already been dark outside for quite some time when the lights came on. Now it’s still daylight, giving me a visual sign that the days are indeed getting longer and spring will be here before we know it.

I do whatever it takes to keep happy in the winter. Having gone through a clinical depression in the ‘90s, I am very careful about my mental hygiene when the days are so short. It is easy to become bored when you are stuck inside too much and it’s not a long walk from boredom to depression. They are one and the same…just different points on a continuum. I heard of a suicide yesterday. It made my heart hurt. With boredom, escape can come in sleep. With depression, escape can tragically become final.

Winters are long and dark enough. If leaving my tree up makes me happy, so be it. It very likely will become an Easter tree before I give in and take it down. At least the Christmas carols are gone! I am always glad to put those away. Six weeks of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” is enough to drive anyone batty! ❤️

“For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭36:9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Boundaries

Mon, 29 Jan 2018 02:30:54 -0600

“Boundaries” by Ginny McKinney

Something I knew nothing about growing up. There were no boundaries save for one. Don’t rock the boat. Ahhh…the walking on egg shells that comes with being the child of an alcoholic. We learn at an early age to dodge bullets. But boundaries? We either didn’t have many…or I didn’t understand the concept. I didn’t know for the longest time where other people ended and I began. I lived my life in a sort of parasitic relationship with my “hosts”…much like Spanish Moss and Mistletoe. My insecurities made it difficult for me to express my own opinions. I was a chameleon…I changed with the whims of my beneficiary…whomever it should be.

I’d love to say I out grew that in my late teens, early twenties like most people, but I did not. I really only broke free from the bondage of self loathing after Mr. Virgo came into my world and convinced me of my worth. Still, boundaries were a challenge. I didn’t exercise enough boundaries with my children. I didn’t exercise boundaries with friends and relationships. And I certainly didn’t practice boundaries with myself.

As I continue to grow in my faith walk, I learn more and more about boundaries. Pastor Justin presented an excellent series this month about fixing ourselves up…just like flipping a house. First, you make sure you have a good, solid foundation. Then you give the very best of yourself. Then you get your head right. You get rid of the stinkin’ thinkin’ of the days before you were saved. Change your mind…Change your life. All these things are foundational, and well heeded. But you have to protect your progress, Pastor Justin says…by setting up boundaries. You can’t let the enemy get a foothold in this life of yours. I have been known to cuss like a sailor. I’m doing MUCH better…but I still slip.

This is what I was referring to the other day…we are what we eat. Not literally. We aren’t broccoli and cauliflower. But what we allow to come into us, gets expressed by us into the world. Mr. FixIt and I are a team. We have to set up our perimeter to keep the enemy from infiltrating our ranks…to keep him from trying to divide and conquer. We have to work as a team and to do that, we give each other gentle reminders to shore up that boundary…that little leak in our boat. Because little leaks become big leaks and we’ll drown before we get to shore if we aren’t ever vigilant.

Does this mean we can’t relax and kick back and enjoy life? Not at all. But it does mean we have an accountability partner in the other and we must always bring our best to the table. And we keep our perimeter wall strong and our foundation deep. Because we keep God at the top of the triangle. As we strive towards Him…we inevitably become closer. It is our recipe for success.

It’s #MondayMotivation…time to do our spring cleaning and put our house in order. ❤️

“Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure,” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:5-9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Is The Day The Lord Hath Made

Sun, 28 Jan 2018 02:30:20 -0600

Praise

Let us celebrate and be GLAD in it! It is so easy to celebrate and be glad in the day when all is right in your world, isn’t it? I mean, we want God’s blessings, right? We are happy in our blessings and we (hopefully) thank God for providing for us. It’s a different story when things aren’t going well. It is SO hard to celebrate and be glad when your world is falling apart. I don’t think God is asking you to go out in the streets and celebrate with singing and dancing if you are sincerely in the throes of pain. We can still celebrate the fact we have a loving Father who is going to use our pain for good in some way. He is working in the background, far beyond our understanding, twisting and turning events to bring you favor. We can still be glad in the day he has made, even if we can’t drag ourselves out of bed to enjoy it. I’ve been there. I know what mattress surfing is like. And I still rejoiced that I had someone who loved me more than I could ever imagine.

Bringing joy into the world isn’t always easy, but the more you try, the more you succeed, and the more you succeed, the more joy you have to give. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving. When I see joy in someone, I stop them and recognize it in them. We are here to love and encourage one another. When you let someone know that you SEE their efforts, your encouragement causes them to grow and expand. It’s an amazing gift you give them…and give yourself.

I ran across this video last night and I just had to share with you. Here’s a little girl with more joy than she can possibly contain. Here’s a future worship leader! A future teacher! A future politician! A future doctor! She has the whole world ahead of her and plenty of joy to share. This is the day the Lord hath made…let us rejoice and be glad in it! Go out there and make it a great day today!!! ❤️

youtu.be/3QivliBtp…

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

A Very Good Memory

Thu, 25 Jan 2018 02:30:12 -0600

“Little Girl in Blue”

I have excellent long term memory. Short term is getting shorter as I age, sped along by grief and a multitude of head injuries along the way, I am sure. But, long term…you can make bank on the accuracy of my memories. My earliest memory takes me back to sitting in the front yard, in the dirt, just inside the fence. I was still in diapers. I remember the way the sun shone on the plastic pants I wore over them as I rolled the material between my chubby baby fingers. Two large neighborhood dogs came up on the other side of the fence and started barking at me. My mother ran and picked me up, comforting my terrified screams. I had nightmares often and can remember sitting in my crib, seeing those dogs coming at me and screaming for my mother to come save me.

My next clear memory is my Aunt’s wedding in Chicago. My grandma woke me before dawn and tried to feed me breakfast but I told her I would eat it in the morning. She laughed and rocked me. I was piled up in the car and we headed north. When we reached Parkersburg, I cried because I didn’t want to go to “Sparkysburg”…I wanted to go to “Shiscago”. We arrived in the Windy City after dark and I remember “lights that moved in the sky”. I later learned they were the neon signs popular in the mid-fifties advertising restaurants and hotels along the busy boulevards.

The first picture is of me and my brother. I remember this like it was yesterday, although I just scanned this slide into my computer this week. I had never seen this picture before. I remember that blue dress. I was supposed to be the flower girl but I think I wasn’t terribly cooperative and ended up having to sit with my grandma. When I saw my mom walking up the aisle, I screamed for her to come get me. I’m sure it was a lovely wedding. Sorry Aunt Rosie…sigh Anyway, my brother and another boy were down in the basement of the church. What you see in my hand there is a used flash bulb from the photographer’s camera. I was gathering them up, peeling the blue plastic coating off, and stepping on them…crushing the glass under my “shiny party shoes with buckles”. Then, I scooped up the crushed glass into a shoe box and filled the ash trays that were sitting all around. I was a pistol!

“Chicago Wedding Reception”

The second picture is a group shot of my brother and me with my Uncle Ernie’s family. Now, my Aunt Rosie grew up here on the farm in West Virginia. But she spent her entire childhood in the nurse’s office at school from getting carsick on the bus and she swore when she was graduated from nursing school, she would move far away from those twisty roads with the kiss-me-Kate turns and never look back. She and a girlfriend moved to Chicago and worked together at Cook County Hospital.

One night, the two young women found their way into a local drinking establishment where she met a handsome sailor on furlough. They fell in love and were married soon after. My Uncle Ernie grew up in an immigrant German family on the South Side of Chicago. He was rough and tough and took no guff. His family was large and loud and the antithesis of our quiet little farm family. I love this picture. Look at all the booze. I can just picture my Grandma and Pop-Pop at this wedding reception…teetotalers that they were. Grandma with her sensible shoes and her pretty little hat perched on her head just so, her purse clutched in her lap for fear these hooligans might try to take it from her. Pop-Pop in the only suit he ever owned, his fedora neatly brushed, his shoes worn. It must have been a sight. The story is, Grandma caught me going from table to table and drinking down the bits of champagne left in the glasses. Lawrdy…I can just imagine.

My other memory of this trip was walking into a kitchen. Uncle Ernie’s mother was a caterer so I imagine she and her helpers were cooking and baking for the reception. There was a very large bag of flour and, as was common in those days, there was a prize in the bag. She found the prize…a little 14k gold ring. Someone put it on my ring finger and tied it on with a blue ribbon that matched this dress. I remember wearing it, but I don’t see it in these pictures.

I was thrilled when my Aunt sent me these two slides. I had never gotten around to putting them in my scanner till this week and was so excited to see this image confirming such a clear memory for me. I cherish every good memory of my childhood. Even though there were some dark times, it’s memories like this that banish them to the far corners of my mind and bring a warm flush of love through me. ❤️

“Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭19:14 NIV

In the Beginning

Mon, 22 Jan 2018 02:30:44 -0600

Marshmallow Ranch actually started in 2001. I was separated from Hubby #2 the year before. I had worked in medicine before becoming a stay-at-home mom in 1986. Unfortunately, since my soon-to-be ex was a doctor in the community, it was a decidedly uncomfortable environment in which to seek employment. I found myself struggling to find a new career in our small, mountain community. I worked for about a year filling in at the local downtown shops…working one day a week at each of five stores, giving the shop owners a welcome day off. I found I enjoyed the interaction with the customers and I was very good at merchandising. My ex noticed this and proposed I open a shop of my own and he would help me get started.

One of my favorite pastimes in those days was needlework. I belonged to the Embroiderer’s Guild that met once a month. I also belonged to a quilting guild. But my favorite was our weekly “Stitch and B****” held at my friend Judy’s house. We brought whatever project we were working on and sat around with coffee and pastries and got all the support we needed for whatever issue we were facing as young mothers. When I started thinking about what kind of shop I wanted to open, I asked the girls and they unanimously chimed in. “A needlework supply shop!”

I really wanted my store on the main street through town for the foot traffic. Unfortunately, the rents there were out of my budget so I went two streets east. I was across the street from the Hotel Denver and catty corner from the Amtrak Station. The building was one of the oldest in town. It had been the St. James Inn at one time with a shady history of being one of the brothels in the early days when most of downtown consisted of tents and mud. When coming up with a name, I thought of Cat House Cross Stitch, but thought better of it. I finally settled on Needles & Pins. The owners of the building did a major remodel with my shop in mind. When it was complete, it was lovely. Old hardwood floors were brought back to life. Salvaged brick lined one wall. A large table was in the back room. Every Wednesday, women gathered at my shop for our own version of “Stitch and B****”. From the moment I opened the doors to closing time, the shop rang with the laughter of women sharing stories and solving the problems of the world. I lost my shirt…twice…but it was wonderful therapy for a lot of women, including myself. It’s when I first found my footing on my own again.

If you are a cross-stitcher, you are familiar with cute publishing houses like “Birds of a Feather”, “Mosey & Me”, “Blackbird Designs” and “The Prairie Schooler”. Being an artist, I thought I would try my hand at designing some cross-stitch patterns. I wanted to come up with a cute name for the division of my business. As I was going through a box of things in my art studio one day, I came across the picture of a field in West Virginia with large, round bales of hay wrapped in white plastic. They looked all the world like huge marshmallows. I had taken the photo on a trip a few years earlier. My youngest had asked what those things were and her big sister teased her telling her this was a marshmallow ranch. This was where they grew big marshmallows then cut them up in little pieces, put them in bags and sent them to the stores. Marshmallow Ranch! The perfect name for my tiny little art division of Needles & Pins.

Unfortunately, the shop wasn’t open long enough for my ideas to come to fruition. I did design three or four patterns and had samples stitched, but never got them published. This is the most detailed of my designs. I called it “Three Sheep”. Maybe someday I’ll get around to developing that idea again. Designing cross-stitch patterns isn’t as easy as it looks. Even with my interest in art, I’m not a very good judge of color. I found this picture on my new computer when the photos were delivered from the cloud and thought I’d share it with you. It’s been thirteen years since I closed the second incarnation of my little needlework shop. It was a difficult time in my life, but one that shaped the path of who I have become. It’s something I am proud of in retrospect. ❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Savor the Sweet

Sat, 20 Jan 2018 02:30:14 -0600

The first time I set foot in a trout stream, I was six years old. It was the summer before my life would be forever changed by the illicit touch of a stranger. The summer of 1960 found my family on its very first vacation. We traveled to the mountains of West Virginia and rented a small cabin for a week. I remember mom frying trout in an iron skillet. I remember my brother and I playing quietly in the shade of the many trees surrounding our camp. I remember my dad standing in the shallow middle, up to his knees, casting over and over with the flies he had meticulously tied at his workbench in the basement. And I remember the river. The North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac River, to be exact.

I didn’t have much experience with open bodies of water. Mom had instilled an unhealthy fear of water in me with stories of the time she saved her baby sister from drowning. She had no intention of ever having to save me, so I was banished from any water sports. And, it turns out…I’m a bit of a water baby. I remember one day in particular. Dad was out in his favorite fishing hole, patiently casting, and I stood at the river’s edge. I contemplated the ripples as they passed over the smooth river rocks. I gazed at the deep pools that changed to the color of emeralds where the sandy bottom lay two or three feet below. I delighted at the light dancing on the surface like a thousand diamonds and the trout flashing as they breached the surface to catch their next meal.

That was a simple and peaceful summer…the last I would know before my innocence was taken from me. But, that is not to say, I have never found moments that have recaptured that sense of awe and wonder. I have…many times. Yesterday was one of those days that delivered sweet things…one after another…till I was overflowing with the beauty and simplicity of it all.

I made my routine trip to the farm to see how the kitties are fairing. I checked the stove and the basement. I sat, as I always do, in the chair in “Grandma’s Window” and watched the birds at the feeder. I listened to the sounds of an old house…living and breathing…its bones creaking like the old woman that she is. I watched the pendulum in Mr. Virgo’s clock swing back and forth, reminding me I couldn’t stay too long. We had company coming.

I stopped at the neighbor’s for a bit and delivered a small gift of French Truffles. We passed the time, catching up on the news of the neighbors and I left with promises it wouldn’t be so long till my next visit. I turned the truck toward home. I checked the mail and found a pink slip…a package had come and would be waiting for me at the post office. Mr. FixIt offered to go pick it up as I put the groceries away. I no sooner sat down till our company arrived.

Mr. FixIt’s granddaughter and her family brought their baby to see Papaw and GG! I have inherited a whole passel of people in this relationship, including a son and his wife, a daughter and her man, three granddaughters (two of whom have significant others), a grandson and his girlfriend, and a great granddaughter. You know what that means, don’t you? I am a great grandmother! And…considering I am WAY too young to be one (smile)…I am GG. Great Grandma. Grandma Ginny. GG. It suits me. The baby is four months old and the most precious little thing. What a treat to hold and rock a little one again!

Before long, Mr. FixIt came back with my box. I couldn’t wait to open it. It was a special introductory gift box from my dear friend, and fellow Sister on the Fly, Michelle McMullen Cummings with her newly published book, The Reel Sisters! https://www.thereelsisters.com/product/the-reel-sisters-gift-box/ Now I have two books to read, one published and one unpublished with an invitation to write early praise for its release. Both written by strong women I admire and I can’t wait to get into them! The reminder of these sister friendships warmed my heart as rocked and sang a lullaby to the newest member of our immediate family. I thought…”I will teach you to fly, little sister” as I sniffed the top of her sweet, soft head.

I am enjoying getting to know and bond with Mr. FixIt’s family. As his granddaughter bundled up the baby and prepared to leave yesterday, she turned to me and said, “I like you. You make my grandpa very happy.” I like her, too. She reminds me a little of myself when I was her age. A young mother, in love with her baby, her life stretching before her like an endless summer. It filled me with a soft warmth. As I sat propped in our bed last night, typing away at the keyboard writing this post, that very happy Papaw came in with a small bowl of ice cream and a kiss on the top of my head. And I swear…my heart exploded with joy.

The sweet simplicity of a life lived with boundless joy. My God has delivered me far, far from the pain life can bring. For now. There will be pain again. There always is. This is life, after all. The difference is, I have this now. I am building my insurance policy. These stories are money in my emotional bank…stories to look back upon one day and remember the joy I felt on a cold January day in the sun. ❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Catching Up

Fri, 19 Jan 2018 02:30:51 -0600

One of the best ways to catch up with paperwork is to have peaceful surroundings. Mr. FixIt had a day of errands to do. I think he kinda wanted me to tag along with him yesterday, but I know us well…I would have ended up coming in at 9:30 last night and none of this work would have gotten done.

As soon as he left (with a big hug and kiss) I turned on praise music and cranked it up. I always need a little extra dose of Jesus when I am heading into a formidable task. Wading through many bags and boxes of papers and sorting them into some sort of organization that allows me to actually put my finger on things was the order of the day. With praise, and good coffee and French Truffles…I waded in with both feet and started making the first cuts. What was trash. What needed to be kept in which pile. I really, really hate paperwork! “Jesus is calling…” I can do this. “Do you thirst for a drink from the well…” I can do this. “The Father’s arms are open wide…” Oh, yes…I can definitely do this! “Bring your sorrows and trade them for joy…” YES…let’s DO this!!!

As I often do, I talk out loud to Jesus when I’m working. The conversation is never one-sided. He always speaks to me through the Holy Spirit and tells me everything I need to hear. First, he smacks my hand a little…”Keep up with this stuff better.” He chides gently. “You know what an ordeal it is when you put it off till the end of the year. It seems overwhelming. If it’s difficult to slog through…remember to talk with me while you’re working. It makes the time pass faster. And, I can help. I can help you put things into perspective. I can help you find lost papers. I can help you remember who you need to talk to about this and that. I can help you make important decisions. Just remember to include me…even in the most mundane of your daily activities.”

Then He goes on with his daily teaching. “Thank your Father for the gifts you receive. See all these papers? They are all articles of provision. That bank account? I gave you that gift to provide for your every need. Respect that. Balance every month…not because it’s a drudge, but because it’s an honor to see the abundance you have been provided with. The same goes for that insurance policy you have been complaining about because the price went up. Be grateful you HAVE insurance…and so far, you haven’t run out of money to pay for it. What about that accident last February? I know you have been dreading searching for all the papers you need to have in order to finish out that claim. Yes, that’s a pain…but, I made sure you weren’t terribly injured. And you received a much newer truck when yours was totaled. It was “a miracle” when you got that check that just almost covered the new truck, wasn’t it? It was Me…I made sure you have a safe, affordable vehicle. A little gratitude goes a long way, dear one.”

What blessings I have. I have a Father that provides for me. I have a loving family that supports and loves me. I have this tremendous man in my life who loves me and shares his home with me as if it has always been mine…he’s just been waiting for me to come along. I have my health. I have the farm. I have TOW-Wanda. I have a retirement. I have Social Security and health insurance and soon, I’ll have Medicare…that carrot at the end of the race that will help provide for me in my golden years. I have a house…TWO houses…THREE if you count TOW-Wanda…to shelter me from the storms of life. I have food and clean water and clothes. I am wealthy….beyond my wildest dreams. I am LOVED. What a lovely way to look at the mundane, dreary chore of sorting through paperwork. What a lovely way to look at the world. Thank you, God! “You’re a good, good Father…it’s who you are, it’s who you are…” ❤️

“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Tucking in with Tea

Thu, 18 Jan 2018 02:30:19 -0600

I love a hot cup of tea on a cold winter day. And, baby…it is c-o-l-d! It is nice to just stay in and get stuff done around the house. Catching up on correspondence. Going through stacks of paperwork and organizing. Tossing old magazines. All things that need to be done and can be accomplished when you’re stuck inside.

I’m reading my friend’s final draft of her book so I can write advanced praise. You’re going to love it…I’ve cried ten times! I can’t wait to share it with you.

In the meantime, I was doing a little research yesterday after reading some of your comments on my post. I do that often. I came across an article in Psychology Today that I loved. As I read it, tears stung my eyes and I thought…whoever wrote this really gets it! When I got to the bottom, I saw that it was written by someone I know! Susan Heitler, PhD…a Clinical Psychologist in Denver. Susan had a little office located by the back door to the suite I worked in when Hubby #2 was in medical school. She often ate her lunch at the front desk in her office…the door flung open wide as if to beckon passers by to come in for a visit. I often stopped on my way to and from the cafeteria. Sitting for a few moments with Susan was like breathing in sunshine. I always left feeling really good about myself. I would have loved to bottle some of that up and take it with me where ever I went in the years since I last saw her. Here’s the article I read: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/resolution-not-conflict/201202/psychological-diagnosis-dangerous-desirable-or-both

The last several days’ posts have been really heavy so I’m keeping today light on purpose. There is so much darkness in the world…we need a day of light once in a while. As I’m writing this, I’m listening to sounds of the woods. Water in a creek. Crickets. Tree frogs. Night birds. I miss those sounds. The woods are so quiet in the winter. The air seems dead as it is muted by the snow on the ground. It’s so cold my nose hairs freeze when I breathe in! Yet, I still have to sleep with the window cracked a bit. I have to have air. Mr. FixIt doesn’t like heavy blankets so I bought an electric blanket. It is the warmest thing I’ve ever had and not at all heavy. A good compromise.

I made Banana Nut muffins yesterday with blueberries in them. We went shopping at the department store that is closing and bought about $460 worth of clothes for $22…mostly for the great grandbaby! I’m researching how to make jewelry from broken china. I scheduled a camping trip for May. I caught a mouse in the attic. We watched a Reese Witherspoon movie. And I’m gathering the data I need to close out the paperwork from the car accident I was in last February. So far, it’s been a really good week! How about you? What are you doing to pass the time till spring? ❤️

“Fruit trees of all kinds will grow on both banks of the river. Their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail. Every month they will bear fruit, because the water from the sanctuary flows to them. Their fruit will serve for food and their leaves for healing.”” ‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭47:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Time’s Up

Wed, 17 Jan 2018 02:30:46 -0600

I was a doctor’s wife. I had a beautiful life, for all intents and purposes. While he wasn’t a demonstrative man, I felt I was coping as best I could with his inability to meet my emotional needs. He was a good provider and a good dad. I could overlook the rest. There came a point when I started unraveling a bit. The clouds of depression circled around but never lit very long in those days. That is, until I went in for a physical. My doctor asked how I was doing and I told him I was a bit blue of late. I would often walk into the baby’s room, pick her up and rock her…and cry. “Hmmmmm… Inappropriate crying.” he wrote in my chart. He gave me a prescription for Zoloft and the race to self destruction began. How could I tell him why I was crying? How could I do that in the short time he had allotted for this visit? It was so much deeper than any pill could ever reach.

As I write this, I’m watching the gymnasts facing their abusive doctor in court. What a different world it is for sexual abuse victims now. My first abuser was a senior in high school. I was eight or nine. I was playing with a friend when the big boy lured us into a garage to “look at toys”. When he had his hand in my pants, he was whispering things in my ear I didn’t understand. Mom said don’t talk to strangers. But “Butterball” lived in the neighborhood. We knew him. I stood stock still in the belief he would leave. When he was done with me, he went for my friend. In that moment, my maternal instincts kicked in and I grabbed her hand and ran down the hill to her house. I pounded on the door and her mother came to answer. I was frantic and told her what had happened. She opened the screen door and I thought…”Oh, thank God! She’s going to save us!” Mrs. G grabbed her daughter and drew her in the house. As I started to go in, she placed her hand on my chest, pushed me out the door, and said, “Don’t you EVER say anything like that EVER again to ANYBODY!” Then she slammed the door in my face.

I went to my house and sat on the lawn trying to figure out what had happened. When I was really little, my babysitter’s teenage daughter had sex with her boyfriend in her room all the time. She caught me watching once and beat the tar out of me and told me I was bad. And here, a mother I knew and trusted told me I was bad and I had a pretty good idea it had something to do with that physical act I had no name for. I made a concrete decision right there. I would take Mrs. G’s advice. I would not tell my mom. I mean, what if I told her and SHE put me out on the street like my friend’s mom??? I would die!

I never told, nor did I tell about the time it happened with my best friend’s dad when I was twelve or thirteen. You know…when you are convinced you are bad from your earliest memories, that kind of damage runs deeply and permanently in your DNA.

I didn’t tell until I was watching my girls on the living room floor, playing. Daughter #1 was sixteen. Daughter #2 was one. I don’t know if it was the way the sun came in through the window or the way my daughter tucked her hair behind her ear or maybe it was the sound of their sweet innocent voices but suddenly those memories came rushing back with such force it nearly knocked me to my knees. The shadow of depression that was floating just out of my reach crashed on me with the force of a tsunami. That is when I started rocking my baby in the night…weeping. “Inappropriate crying”? I think not. I was trying to figure out how I was going to protect this precious child from the horrors that await little girls in the great big world. I was weeping for that little girl in me who was abused then turned away by someone who could have helped her..SHOULD have helped her. I was trying to figure out just one thing in my 38-year-old mind…”Who can I tell? And, what the hell does it matter now?” Just, please God…keep them safe.

The fact that I’m sitting here alive and well, and that my children are beautiful and safely grown is testimony to a mother’s strength and courage. The road was long and filled with unexploded ordinance, but we made it through. I told my mom everything when I was about forty. I was hyper vigilant with my girls but they were never abused under my watch. Now, I tell and tell and tell in an effort to teach prevention and give permission to tell your own stories. Because, #timesup. No more secrets. No more lies. No more hiding in the dark.

Yes…I’m proud of these young gymnasts. And, everyone else in the #metoo movement. I wish there had been this same moral outrage when these athletes came forward. It would have helped them so much because, just as it’s difficult to walk the path of grief alone, so too is the walk of abuse. It is the original “walk of shame”…only we did nothing wrong. It was not our fault.

While I never wish pain on people as a rule, I felt a certain vindication when I watched that doctor with his face in his hands as he is forced to sit there while victim after victim sit before him and tell their stories. To see him take off his glasses and wipe the tears away and hang his head in shame gave me great satisfaction. My abuse occurred in a time when such things weren’t talked about. Therefore, my abusers went on and lived their lives unscathed. I don’t know if they ever felt bad. Did they ever have remorse? Did they ever think of me? Did they ever want to ask for my forgiveness but didn’t know where to find me? Or better yet, did they ask God to forgive them? Did they find salvation? Will we meet somewhere and have the opportunity to talk? One is dead. Too late. I’m not sure about the other one. He’d be about 74 years old now. I’ve forgiven them both long ago. But I do often wonder…what if? What if I could sit (or could have sat) in front of my abusers and tell them what their actions did to me. How it affected my family, my relationships, my children. How it affected my views of the world and my sense of personal safely and my relationship to sexuality. How their few moments stolen from me left a deep chasm in my psyche that I urgently tried to fill with drugs and alcohol, sex and shopping. How the memories I had so carefully packed deeply away in a place that could never be opened came crashing out on a sunny Saturday morning…ripping my neat and tidy little suburban doctor’s wife life into shreds.

Inappropriate crying?!?! You got a couple of hours to listen to WHY I was holding my baby and crying?!?! You tell me, doc. Because at that point, I had no words to describe what had happened, no one to listen…to really hear…and only tears to shed. Your answer? Drugs. Drugs, drugs, and more drugs.

“Shhhhh…here. Take this. Let us help.”

I was very nearly “doctored to death”.

Yes, today I am proud of these beautiful young women doing a job no one in their right mind wants to do. We should be living in a world where we don’t ever NEED to have these conversations. As Oprah said…there is a change coming.

Accountability.

A new dawn is rising.

Time’s up. ❤️

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:6‬ ‭NIV

On Being Loved

Tue, 16 Jan 2018 02:30:37 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I have developed this little routine the last few months. We have a nice dinner and clear up the dishes. We sit together for a while and talk or maybe watch a movie or an episode of Big Bang or MASH. When it’s time for a bedtime snack, I take mine into the bedroom at the far end of the house and write while my sweetie watches a ball game or the news and weather. It works out great and we both have that little bit of alone time everyone needs in a relationship. I’ve taken to listening to nature sounds on Amazon Music as I write so quite often, in my head, there’s a thunderstorm raging or ocean waves are gently lapping at the shore or birds are singing in a tropical rainforest. It’s so soothing and easy to write to.

My guy bowls on a couple of leagues and has for over thirty years. Bowling offered him the opportunity to socialize with fun people. He is gregarious, and bowling has been a great outlet for him. The other night he stopped at the store on the way home. He always calls me before he heads home because no matter where we are staying…his house or mine…it is a good forty minutes from town. He asks if I need anything. Usually, I don’t. He called me from the driveway the other night and asked me to open the door. He’s not supposed to carry anything in his bad hand yet. When I greeted him at the door, he handed me the groceries and I ducked in the kitchen with them. It was SO cold out there…I wanted away from the door as fast as I could. When I turned around to hug him, he handed me this bouquet of yellow roses.

I love yellow roses. I love great big bouquets of mixed flowers but all in white. I love a live orchid. Mr. Virgo used to bring me flowers. And now…I have this sweet love…this good, good man. And HE brings me flowers, too. Guys like Mr. Virgo and Mr. FixIt are a rare breed. My sweetheart told me the other day he wished we had started dating in high school so we could have had our whole lives together. I understand that thinking, and it’s sweet…really. But the thing is, we are the people we are right now simply BECAUSE of the life experiences we have been through. There is a really big chance we wouldn’t have gotten along in our early years. All of our experiences have been opportunities for personal growth. We came together when we did because it was GOD’S timing…not ours.

When we can move over and get out of the way, God does extraordinary things in our lives. “Let go and let God” isn’t just a pithy saying or a tired cliche from an AA meeting. It is straight outta the instruction manual for life…the Bible. Oh, we are such proud creatures. We want to have control. We want to steer the boat and make it go where WE want it. At any given moment, there is a preordained course designed specifically for us. God knows your name. He has plans to prosper you. God loves you more than anyone in the world. He loves you more than you can fathom. You can make it SO much easier if you put God in the driver’s seat. The easiest way to do that is ask. Just ask Him…first thing in the morning. “Where are you going to take me today, Lord?” Then get out of the way. Oh, my…could it really be that easy??? ❤️

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“The Umbrella Incident” or “How to Feed Your Man”

Sat, 13 Jan 2018 02:30:33 -0600

“Winter Flooding in West Virginia” by Ginny McKinney

It all started innocently enough. It was going to rain and I was heading to town soon. As I jumped in the shower, I called out to Mr. FixIt.

“Honey…would you mind grabbing my umbrella out of the truck?”

When I got dressed and was heading out the door, I looked around. My umbrella wasn’t there. I asked if he had gotten it for me and Mr. FixIt said no. There was an umbrella there by the door. Now, it was a perfectly good umbrella. One that, you know, keeps rain off of you. But I wanted MY umbrella and I felt Mr. FixIt had made a decision for me. I didn’t like it.

Silly…that was just plain silly of me. But, I am my mother’s daughter and stubborn is my middle name. I hopped out the door and into the rain…sans umbrella.

“I’ll show YOU!” I thought as I made a mad dash for the truck. “I don’t need your stinky old boy umbrella!”

Ridiculous. I got wet because I got my nose out of joint. And why? Because, somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I equated “Please get my umbrella.” with “Please tell me you love me.” That is old school thinking right there…something I thought I left behind like…two relationships ago.

It’s been a couple of weeks now. And ever since, I’ve been criticizing Mr. FixIt’s every move. Mostly because he’s a man and he had surgery and he’s SUPPOSED to be taking care of that hand so it will heal properly and he’s as stubborn as me and he does things his way and….did I say he was stubborn? I have spent the better part of two weeks with “Don’t pick that up!” And “Here…let ME do it!” I think there were eye-rolls involved. All of this was done in an effort to punish him for a perceived slight that was nothing more than something made up in my head. Some unpacked baggage from seasons past that has absolutely nothing to do with him.

Then…the rain started.

It rained…hard. Yesterday morning I awoke to the sounds of the carpet cleaner sucking water up from the rug downstairs. The basement flooded! I jumped up and ran downstairs. And there was my man…emptying one gallon containers of dirty water into the sink…carrying them with two hands, one of which he isn’t supposed to lift anything heavier than popcorn.

“Breathe…breathe…don’t scold him. He’s not a child.” My inner voice reasoned with me.

“Did you plug in the sump pump?” I asked.

“No.” Shoulders slumped. Voice dejected.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked.

Shoulders slumped more. “Stupid. It was stupid.”

I took the carpet cleaner and started that part myself so he wouldn’t have to carry the bucket to the sink. Mr. FixIt went about sweeping up water in the room without carpet. He ran the vacuum. We didn’t talk much. Then I sent him off on an errand to town.

After he left, I went upstairs and fixed myself a cup of coffee. I sipped it as I ran the carpet cleaner back and forth over the soggy carpet. And I fumed. Then I could see the dejected slump of my sweetheart’s shoulders and my heart softened.

“Lord,” I said out loud. “I haven’t been loving this wonderful man you gave me the way I should. I haven’t been loving him the way you love me. And all because he didn’t get my umbrella for me!”

I sucked up more water, emptied the bucket, and began again.

“Lord, please give me the heart of a cheerful servant. Let me see all of his good qualities and none of the annoying traits that make us human. Can you do that for me, please?” I asked with sincere earnestness in my voice.

Suddenly, the old hymn “Farther Along” started up in my mind and I began to sing out loud as I vacuumed up bucket after bucket of water.

“Tempted and tried we’re oft made to wonder Why it should be thus all the day long While there are others living about us Never molested though in the wrong.

Farther along we’ll know all about it Farther along well understand why Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine We’ll understand it all by and by.

When death has come and taken our loved ones It leaves our home so lonely and drear Then do we wonder why others prosper Living so wicked year after year.

When we see Jesus coming in glory When he comes down from his home in the sky Then we shall meet him in that bright mansion We’ll understand it all by and by.

Farther along we’ll know all about it Farther along we’ll understand why Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine We’ll understand it all by and by.

Yes, we’ll understand it…all by and by.”

I sang and sang and in two verses…maybe three…something happened. Any negative thoughts I had been having dissolved. My heart was soft and open. God had indeed given me the heart of a cheerful servant, just as I had asked.

I went on and worked, happily singing and emptying bucket after bucket of dirty flood water. I worked for about three hours when Mr. FixIt walked in carrying breakfast for me. I went upstairs and gave him a great big hug and an even bigger smile. I thanked him profusely for bringing me a warm breakfast. I hadn’t taken time to eat. I patted the seat beside me. He shook his head and said no…he needed to get back to it.

“Please?” I begged. “Just for a minute.”

He smiled and sat down.

“Sweetheart, listen…I know you feel stupid for not plugging in the sump pump. But, I could have thought of it, too. And I didn’t. We unplugged it to put up the snowman for Christmas and just forgot. We make mistakes…it happens. It wasn’t your fault.” I put my hand on his knee and looked at him intently. I wanted to make sure he heard me.

Mr. FixIt turned those baby blues to mine and gave me his sweetest smile. And, I felt I’d made it right. This is how you feed a man. You feed his spirit. You feed his soul. You breathe life into him. When you start looking for the bad in your love…that’s all you will see. I really, REALLY don’t want to go there. Do I get it right all the time? Oh, heck no! I’m human, too. I stumble and forget and let my lower self talk WAY too often. But sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I remember to ask God for help. Yesterday was one of those days. ❤️

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Here Comes the Rain

Fri, 12 Jan 2018 02:30:57 -0600

“Belpre Bridge” by Ginny McKinney

Yesterday morning was sunny and warm. By warm, I mean 47. As in…above freezing! And by afternoon it was 72 degrees according to the thermometer on my truck. swoon I haven’t felt this warm since sometime back in September. It was downright balmy out there!

Mr. FixIt and I had errands to run yesterday and he asked me mid-day what I’d like for lunch. My go to favorite? The Southwest Grilled Chicken Salad with Fat Free Honey Mustard Dressing from Chik-fil-A! And my go to favorite place to eat it? Point Park in Parkersburg. I wanted to watch the ice floes out on the Ohio River. Yesterday, there were three Blue Herons and a bunch of Seagulls sitting out on the ice. I believe two gents were trying to woo the same lady heron because one kept shooing off the interloper. Said lady was having none of it and kept flying away from Mr. Romance.

It had just started raining when we parked in our favorite spot. We really wanted to see a tug pushing barges through the ice but unfortunately, none came along. As an update, Mr. FixIt started working with a hand therapist yesterday. He’s doing really well. He did strain it a little last Sunday night when he pushed up off the floor, but it’s much better now. The therapist made a custom splint for his wrist and thumb that is much sturdier than the one he was given at the surgeon’s office and I am relieved. I was very worried he would slip on the ice and snow last week and really do some damage. We sure don’t want to have to go through this again!

One of my friends and his wife lost their faithful companion, Blue, yesterday. When I was so lonely and hurting, so many of my readers encouraged me to adopt a dog, but this is exactly why I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t put myself through that loss. Mr. Virgo and I put our seventeen-year-old Yorkie-Maltese mix down just three months before Mr. Virgo himself died suddenly. We had had Cricket cremated and were going to spread her ashes in the flower garden in the spring. When Mr. Virgo died, I just put that little box of ashes in the casket with him and swore I’d never have another dog. My heart aches for those who lose their beloved fur babies.

With the nature of grief being so unpredictable, sometimes you literally feel as though you are just one crisis away from losing it entirely. I cannot tell you how many times I have been in the throes of grief, and the accompanying anxiety, and I have felt like I just couldn’t handle one more thing. As a matter of fact, the FEAR of having one more thing happen actually escalated everything. I have an arsenal of coping strategies at my disposal, but sometimes the slope is too steep and the boulder gains too much momentum too fast. There were so many nights when it all got away from me and all I could do was cling to God and pray for morning. If I can get a hold of the wave early enough, the best thing I can do is get out of the situation I’m in. It usually hits me when I’m in bed, so I get up and do something…scrub the kitchen floor, clean out the fridge, run the vacuum.

Another thing that will stop things from spinning out of control for me is writing. There have been countless times I’ve sat down to write my post while I’m feeling the waves of grief and anxiety come over me. As I write, I can literally feel the stress, fear, and anxiety fade…sometimes melting away entirely. I can’t stress enough how much writing can help you through grief. You don’t have to have a blog. Get a journal and write in it every night. I not only wrote this blog, but I filled several personal journals through the first two or three years after Mr. Virgo died. Writing saved me. TOW-Wanda saved me. God saved me. ❤️

““This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘Write in a book all the words I have spoken to you.” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭30:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

A Welcome Sight

Wed, 10 Jan 2018 02:30:03 -0600

The sun! Ok, it was out for less than fifteen minutes at the farm today…but, oh! What a divine fifteen minutes that was!!! Ok, that is what is the hardest thing about living in the Mid-Ohio Valley as opposed to the Roaring Fork Valley. There is far less sunshine here. The sky stays grey for weeks at a time. When the snow finally comes, it stays till we can get a welcome respite of sunshine and warmth like yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Tomorrow is predicted to get up to 63 degrees! I will take that any day over the bitter, frigid weather we’ve had for the last few weeks.

I know…you’ve heard me state before that I would never spend another winter in the cold and snow. Well, never say never, right? A year ago, I didn’t know I would be where I am in this wonderful relationship. I had a fair idea which direction it was going, but a year is a year and one never knows for sure what might happen. I’ve learned not to look too far into the future since losing Mr. Virgo. Other than…this is where I want to be and who I want to be with. That’s enough for me.

This winter isn’t going like we thought it would when we made our travel plans last summer. First, Mr. FixIt had surgery on his hand and it turned out to be a much bigger deal than we thought it would be so that nixed not only the trip to Colorado at Christmas, but also the two month camping trip we had planned in Florida for February and March. He has hand therapy to go through now and there is still much he cannot do for himself. We’ve decided this is an excellent time to go through closets and boxes of stuff at his house and do a little downsizing. I have a great deal of experience in that department and I am happy as a clam to help out.

In my effort to stay present this year, I’m going to go out today and tomorrow and enjoy every moment of warmth I can possible soak up. I hope you are getting a respite from winter in your neck of the woods. I am also keeping the people of Southern California in my prayers as they struggle with the inevitable mudslides that follow devastating fires. I’ve personally seen the effects of that in Glenwood Springs after the Storm King and Coal Seam fires. I saw on the news last night where they rescued a teenager from the basement of her home. She was nearly encased in mud. It was unbelievable. She had to have been terrified. My heart goes out to everyone affected by this disaster. ❤️

“…Get up and pray…” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭22:46‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Old Friends

Mon, 08 Jan 2018 02:30:25 -0600

Our babies were just wee ones when we met. We were taking a sewing class together which really turned out to be twice a week therapy for busy moms to vent and create something beautiful. Sue took my breath away. Tall and slender with that long, thick, full-bodied hair those of us with baby fine strands drool over, she embodied the earth mother I so desperately wanted to be. We became fast friends. We got together and had tea. We hiked. We stitched and b****ed our way through our children’s youth. We were soccer moms. And, even though we were several years apart in age, we had so much in common.

Sue is one of those friends you may not speak to more than once or twice a year. But when you do, you feel this incredible soul connection and time disappears. We pass each other on Facebook. We give each other virtual hugs and atta girls. We know we are never more than a message or a text or a phone call away.

Sue moved away from Glenwood Springs a couple of years before that cataclysmic event…the overdose…and my world changed dramatically. She was so worried about me. She was supportive and listened and offered me unconditional love. There was a long stretch of time when we didn’t get to see each other. She was at our wedding. Then Mr. Virgo died and she couldn’t come to the funeral. When I went on my three month journey into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado, Sue invited me to her little “ranchita” down near the Four Corners area. She had ten acres overlooking Mesa Verde. She had a labyrinth she had designed and built. By this time, she was an accomplished yogi.

The day I arrived at her place near Dolores, Sue came running out of the house and grabbed me. She hugged me tight then pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

“You said you were doing ok…but I had to see for myself. I wouldn’t know for sure till I squeezed you!” Then she drew me in for another hug.

Sue ministers to you with softness, compassion. She settled me in the rocking chair by the big picture window. She brought me tea. She sat with me and we rocked…the comforting quiet hanging between us like a well worn quilt as we watched the birds at the immense feeder just beyond the glass. We drove to Silverton one day to be at the finish line of a mountain bike race. I was terribly anxious the night before. I had a really hard time with anxiety the first year or two after Mr. Virgo died. Sue sat with me for hours into the night as I cried and threw up and was generally a horrible mess. She’s that friend…the one who loves you when you’re really messy. She is the one who kicked me in the butt and made me write my book. She said…”Write it now while there is pain in your heart. We will feel it. If you try to write it after you heal, you will lose that voice.” She is so right. I love her dearly.

It’s a new year…time for us to reconnect. Sue and I talked for two hours and twenty-two minutes last night. We discussed all the changes in our lives…all the changes to come. And we decided to plan a yoga retreat. We’ll have yoga sessions as well as talks…nutrition, self-care, grief, art, music, writing. I have a picture in my mind of what I want it to look like. I’ll let you know as we formulate a plan and I’d love you to come!

Life is full of interesting twists and turns, isn’t it? My word this year is “presence”. By being present, I will flow through life more awake, more open, more prepared to embrace challenges. Retreats have been a HUGE dream of mine. Time to start letting that dream out to play! ❤️

“gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:23‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Epiphany

Sun, 07 Jan 2018 02:30:01 -0600

Epiphany

Epiphany; noun: plural noun: epiphanies

A) the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).

B) the festival commemorating the Epiphany on January 6.

C) a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.

D) a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

Yesterday was Epiphany. Traditionally, it marks the end of the Christmas Season. The day the Three Wise Men visited the baby Jesus and bestowed their gifts to Him.

Epiphany also means a sudden revelation, insight, and/or appearance of a supernatural being. Eighteen years ago, I experienced epiphany on many, many levels. I was seven years into a devastating depression…one I could see no way out of. I was over prescribed medications by a medical community that my husband at the time belonged to. I was a doctor’s wife. I had WAY too ready access to medications I had no business being on because a referral pattern is a terrible thing to waste. Doctors hate to take care of other doctor’s family. It puts a lot of pressure on them to go above and beyond…to be exemplary…to have a positive outcome, no matter what. Unfortunately for me, that meant seven years of medications that made me a zombie. Add a psychiatrist who told me at every visit, that this was just the way I was…I would need to take these medicines every day for the rest of my life…that I had a chemical imbalance in my brain. I lost my 40’s…literally. My marriage was irreparably damaged. December of 1999 found me struggling. My 20th Anniversary came and my husband told me he wasn’t in love with me anymore. I was devastated. I couldn’t see how I could possibly live without him. I circled the drain and on January 6, 2000…I overdosed on two full bottles of pills and I very easily could have died.

As they worked on me in the emergency room…these doctors and nurses with whom my husband and I socialized…I “faded”. My vision became a tunnel. My hearing damped down till it sounded like I had tin cans over my ears. I didn’t see a great white light like some talk about when they have a near-death experience. I’ve drawn it here, as close as I can. It was this incredibly beautiful disc of cobalt blue with golden rays of light radiating from it all around like an eclipse. It was ethereal and sparkly and incredibly peaceful.

As I stood in this immense ocean of blue light, my hearing left me and there was no sound. Dead air. Nothing. And suddenly, my grandma’s voice cut through the silence and straight into my left ear, as if she were standing beside me and bent down to speak directly to me. She shouted at me!

“Young lady…you get back down there right now! You have work to do!!!”

Immediately, my eyes flew open wide and I was in the ER, lying on a gurney, the overhead light shining in my eyes. I squinted at the glare and the sudden rush of noise. I rolled up on my side and threw up violently. After a while, I turned on my back. A nurse was leaning over me…a look of sincere concern on her face. I burst into tears when I realized what had happened. I kept crying, “I’m so ashamed, I’m so ashamed, I’m so ashamed.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close to her and whispered in my ear, “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve been sick. You’re going to be ok.”

I was at the bottom of the barrel in that moment and I had to begin a very long climb back. It took a great deal of intense therapy to convince me the other doctor was wrong and I really didn’t have a chemical imbalance in my brain. It took a full three years to wean off the medications he had me on. My marriage was over. I nearly lost my relationship with my kids. It took a huge amount of work, strength, and determination to rebuild my life.

I think that experience actually gave me tools to help me cope with losing Mr. Virgo years later. I survived that horrible ordeal. I surely could survive this one. I’ll survive the next. It’s fitting that the overdose occurred on Epiphany. The symbolic ending. The supernatural appearance of my grandma’s disembodied voice…nine months after her death. The moment of sudden revelation and insight that I had gone as far away from where God wanted me to be as I could possibly go.

I look back on those years with a sadness that I lost so much. I look back on that night with the absolute conviction that God sent the one person I would listen to…my grandma. I believe with all my heart that God saved me that night because He wasn’t done with me. He still had work for me to do. And, I also believe I could not have done any of this work if I had never had those seven years of walking through hell…if I had never had that devastating overdose…if I had not nearly lost everything.

Those of you who have been following me for a long time have probably heard this story before because I consider January 6th my “Re-Birth Day” in a literal sense. My second chance. My do-over. And for those of you new enough that you haven’t heard it yet, it might give you a sense of where I’ve been, even before the devastating loss of Mr. Virgo. We all have struggles in life. And, so far, I’ve survived all of them 100% of the time. For a long time, I was embarrassed by this story. Depression. Anxiety. Drugs. Dysfunction. Once I became a Christian, I realized God can use me to help others in similar circumstances. If I shine His Light into every dark corner of my life and show that Light to you, then I am doing what He put me on this earth to do. I’m at peace with that part of my life now. It doesn’t embarrass me. I am not ashamed. I am strengthened by a God that wouldn’t let ME decide it was time to go. I am immensely grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given…a chance to rebuild broken relationships…a chance at great love, not just once, but twice. I’ve lost much…but I’ve gained so much more. ❤️

““Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭60:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Greater is the One

Sat, 06 Jan 2018 02:30:38 -0600

The nature of my writing has grown with the changes I have gone through on my grief journey. Early on, it was so incredibly painful to even try to put words together to express my pain. I understood for the first time how God could hear our prayers when all we can manage are groans. Once the words started, it was like releasing a torrent. My pain literally fell onto the pages and it was emotionally exhausting…for me, and for you as well. The release was cathartic. The more I let it go, the more my heart healed.

Not everyone has a blog where they can release the pent up pain, anger, frustration, confusion that comes with grief. I am blessed with this venue and I don’t take any of you for granted. Your feedback and support has been so incredibly healing for me. I am blessed with family and friends who were supportive during the early months of my grief. The day Mr. Virgo died and I called my daughters, they dropped what they were doing and jumped in their cars to begin the long drive to be with me. They stayed by my side. They answered the phone for me. They made important calls. They took me everywhere I needed to go. Daughter #1 slept with me every night with her arm across my chest to protect me, to calm me, to reassure me I was not alone.

People gathered and surrounded me with love and support and food. My daughters and I bought every funny DVD we could find and tried to find someplace to land besides terror and pain. My friends held me in silence…the same friends who dressed me for my wedding and placed the flowers all around. Here they were…nearly six years to the day…doing the only thing they could do. After we lay Mr. Virgo in the ground, we gathered at our home…my home. I went straight to the humidor and got the expensive cigar he was saving for golf in the summer. I grabbed the bottle of Courvoisier I had used for Mr. Virgo’s favorite fruitcake. And I gathered the men…and my younger daughter. She was particularly close to her stepdad. We went to the front porch and smoked the cigar, and passed the bottle around till it was gone. We told manly stories of golf and travel, hotels and restaurants…all things Mr. Virgo.

After everyone left, the family gathered me up and took me to a restaurant to entice me to eat. I hadn’t had much of anything but coffee for days. It was the day before St. Patrick’s Day…a fine day to be buried, Mr. Virgo would have said. My daughters needed to get back to Denver. Daughter #1 offered to stay longer if I needed her. And while I did…desperately…I said no. I knew she needed to get back to her own family…her own life. And so, just like that, they were gone. And the house became quiet.

I stayed home alone for a week. I had paperwork to do and some things to wrap up at work. I packed a bag, stopped my mail, and headed to Denver to be near the kids. My son-in-law’s parents kept me at their home. I don’t remember the first week I was there…except that I didn’t get dressed for a week and only occasionally ventured out of the room for a little food. I slept much of the time. Finally, I started to join the land of the living again.

Slowly…ever so slowly…I moved forward. Days became weeks and week, months. The firsts started…my first birthday without him, his birthday, the holidays. Our wedding anniversary was just three weeks after he died. People called to see how I was doing. They sent cards and texts and checked in with me on Facebook. One of my daughter’s friends from high school contacted me every week for the first year. And eventually…they all moved on. It was inevitable. They can’t stay forever. They can’t stop their lives forever.

At first, I was really put out. I still needed to vent. I still needed to cry. I needed to tell every story, a hundred times. I needed so much. I needed more than they could ever give. I have to say, I never felt completely abandoned. I am blessed to have the most fabulous people in my life who would listen to me even today if I called and cried. However…I did feel “like a burden”, as one of my readers put it. I didn’t want to unload on them all the time. Somehow, I managed to reach that tipping point where I realized I needed to start managing this pain on my own. That was a really lonely stretch. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have to sit in that “waiting room” (as my friend Christina Rasmussen calls it in her book, Second Firsts) forever, but I had no idea how long I’d be in this social limbo. I wanted to stay alone forever AND I wanted to be with people. I wanted to be invited out AND I wanted to never talk to another soul. I wanted to feel normal AND I didn’t want to feel anything. Oh….grief is crazy making.

I had to have something to hang onto…something, someONE, who would anchor me and keep me from flying off the face of the earth. Even though I had been a Christian for seven years, I only attended church sporadically. One Sunday morning, many months after Mr. Virgo died, I decided I needed to talk to someone who never tired of hearing my cries. Someone who would give and give and give…no matter how much I needed. Who would love me no matter how messy or messed up I got. I went back to church…and I’ve been going ever since.

As much as people want to help…they are people. They are fallible. They can say the wrong things. They can feel overwhelmed by your pain. They can burn out from your grief. But God? God never gets tired of hearing from you. God never gets tired of comforting you. He never gets tired of holding you close. Greater is the one who lives within me than the one who lives in the world. God is the one…the only one who will always, always love you. Even when you cry that horrible snot-slinging cry that no one needs to see. Even when you are so anxious you stay up puking all night. Even when your life seems not worth living. The only way you can lose is to give up. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up. Because joy comes again. It sneaks in the cracks of your broken heart when you least expect it. Not all at once…just a little tiny bit at a time. But it comes, dear one. Hang on…it comes. ❤️

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

#God, #Love, #Light

Deep Freeze

Fri, 05 Jan 2018 02:30:21 -0600

Winter Dawn by Ginny McKinney

As most of the country settles in for a rough ride on the Snowball Express, I am sitting here snug as a bug in a rug at Mr. FixIt’s house. I’ve taken to listening to praise music as I write my posts. I’ve changed things up and started writing during the day instead of late at night. I thought it might give me a different perspective and add a new dimension to the blog. The praise music not only keeps my heart in the right place, it inspires me to write about a scripture instead of the other way around. All this time I have written my post then I’d go look for an appropriate scripture that illustrated what my thinking was. That’s a much more time consuming process.

I downloaded an app on my phone called Moment. It tracks my screen time and frankly, I was appalled when I saw how much time I spend staring at a screen. Granted, it’s not all mindless surfing or game playing. A good portion of it is spent writing these posts. Now, that in itself is not a bad thing by any means. It’s just that…I have this really sweet guy that would probably enjoy a little more attention and a little less screen time. So, I’m trying a few new things…new tactics to shave a little time off the screen and a little more looking into those baby blues that look so adoringly into mine. Win-Win, right?

Another thing I’m going to try is, at least on occasion, including my drawings as the cover photo for my posts. This gives me the opportunity to practice…not only the drawings themselves, but the opportunity to be bold in sharing them. We all need opportunities to be bold.

So, here I sit…snuggled on the sofa under that beautiful blue fox fur blanket. A fresh latte. Kari Jobe. A fire. Snow softly falling. My tree will remain to bring me light and peace well into the new year. I have the promise of a meteor shower and a blue moon to look forward to this month. The year is fresh with hope and promise. And I have this really cool Apple Pencil and Procreate…the world is at my fingertips! My heart is full, even in the depths of this bitter cold. Stay warm, my friends. ❤️

“Out of the south cometh the whirlwind: and cold out of the north.” ‭‭Job‬ ‭37:9‬ ‭KJV‬‬

On Being Brave

Thu, 04 Jan 2018 02:30:08 -0600

I step out…WAY out of my comfort zone here sometimes. I believe in pushing boundaries in order to grow. It has made me a stronger, more well-rounded person to stretch since Mr. Virgo died.

I’ve always been creative. I can draw and paint landscapes, flowers, houses and do a pretty fair rendition. But people and animals…faces…elude me. I never get the proportion right. I’m heavy handed. There is no “life” in them.

When my iPad died at the beginning of the year and I bought a new one, there was this white pencil lying next to it. I asked the salesman what it was and he told me it was a new tool to draw with. He showed me a program called Procreate and he could turn the pencil into a paintbrush loaded with oils or a big, fat pastel or a fine technical pencil. Anything…this thing can be anything! It was magic to me and I HAD to have it. Have it, I did. I knew I wouldn’t have time to really use it until the long dark nights of winter so I’ve been anxiously waiting to play with it.

I have no idea why on earth I would start with a face. I did a study on eyes. I did a quick sketch that vaguely resembled Mr. FixIt. Then I put on my headphones, turned on the Kari Jobe station on Amazon Music and closed my eyes. I thought of Jesus as I listened to the praise music and pictured His face. Then I started to draw. I tried to “get out of the way” and let my hand draw what I saw in my mind. I enjoyed watching it take shape. It’s amateurish, to say the least. And (here’s where I’m stepping out of my comfort zone) I’m sharing it with you here.

I’m much better at painting a picture with words. I’m much better at making a quilt or stitching a sampler or knitting a pair of socks. I’m much better at making jewelry out of old silverware or antique maps. A long time ago, I tried my hand at writing and I listened to the wrong people. They told me my writing wasn’t publishable. That it really wasn’t good. And I believed that, so I stopped trying. This drawing of Jesus may not be very good…but nothing anyone ever says to me will ever make me stop trying again. No matter what it is I’m trying to do.

It doesn’t matter what the end product looks like. It doesn’t matter if a piece of art is gallery worthy. It doesn’t matter if you can’t carry a tune in a washtub. It doesn’t matter if your words aren’t Pulitzer Prize material. What matters is one thing…does it give you joy? If it does…do that! Don’t worry about what others might think. Don’t worry about being judged. Just do what brings you joy!

I’ll keep drawing. Who knows? My writing has improved over the years. Maybe the drawing will, too. But honestly? It’s a form of meditation for me…no matter how it looks. Be brave and stretch! ❤️

““Now get up, Ezra. Take charge—we’re behind you. Don’t back down.”” ‭‭Ezra‬ ‭10:4‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Surviving the Climb

Wed, 03 Jan 2018 02:30:36 -0600

Occasionally I get a comment on my blog from someone so fresh on this grief journey that they are lost. They don’t know where to turn or what to do next. They are obviously in a great deal of pain and my heart breaks for them because…I know. I’ve been there. Many of us have. I respond to every single comment on my blog. Most often it’s with a ❤️, just to let you know I have seen your comment. Occasionally, I write something back. On this particular occasion, I wrote a whole essay as my response. After giving it some thought, I decided it was time again to revisit “How do you survive this?”

My reader lost her husband unexpectedly in early November. He was minding his own business, driving to work, when he was struck head-on by an impaired driver and was killed. Her world was shattered. The future she had planned with her husband was gone. To add insult to injury, her husband’s death was followed in rapid succession by Thanksgiving, his birthday, an important graduation, Christmas, and New Years. All without him. Her question? How do you cope with this?

Here is my response:

First, let me tell you my heart is with you, dear one. You are SO fresh on this journey and it’s so difficult. Having all those firsts, one after another when the ink is hardly dry must be unbearable. I can’t tell you how to grieve because it’s such a personal thing. I can tell you how I dealt with things and hopefully it will help you as well. If you haven’t yet, do go to Marshmallow Ranch on Facebook and see if you can scroll back to the early days of my blog. You will find much more relatable material there. I started the blog in January 2013 as a way to promote jewelry I was making. Then Mr. Virgo died in March. That’s when the blog morphed into an online grief journal. I know that’s a lot of material to sort through, but it just might help.

At your stage of this journey, let me say this…there is no rule book. But here’s a list of ways to cope.

Don’t let anyone say you should do it this way or you shouldn’t do it that way. Do it your way.
You will make mistakes. Don’t be too hard on yourself when you do.
Be careful…extra careful with your money.
Get plenty of rest, eat right, and exercise as you can.
Avoid drugs and alcohol…they are nothing but bandaids that put off the hurt. That goes for new relationships. I know, I know. I thought that was crazy too till I got involved with someone just five months after my beloved died. I just wanted the pain to go away but when I pulled that bandage off, dear God…it was worse.
Feel your feelings. Cry when you need to. Laugh when you can.
There’s an actual condition called grief brain. You can’t remember squat and it may be scary as the dickens. Don’t worry…it does get better in time. You never go back to baseline, but you do get better.
You won’t be in this fog forever and eventually you will feel joy. Don’t feel guilty for that.
I found the services of a grief counselor to be extremely helpful. I had PTSD from watching the CPR for hours so I had EMDR treatments which helped immensely.

Remember…you don’t “get over” this…you get through it. But, you will never be the same. Let me repeat that…you will never be the same. Don’t even try to find the old you. She is gone. Once a pickle, always a pickle…you don’t get to go back to being a fresh little cucumber again. Whether you become a sour or sweet pickle is largely up to you. Do NOT give up hope of finding a good life, though. You can…and you will…with determination and perseverance.

I realized early on that he died, I did not. I owed it to his memory to live…actually LIVE the days my husband was not given. Since we were looking at campers when he died, I went out and bought one and joined Sisters on the Fly…a women’s adventure group. I also belong to Girl Campers. These are all empowering groups that helped me become brave and strong.

One last word of caution. It’s ok to mattress surf once in a while but don’t live there. Get up every day, splash water on your face, brush your teeth, and get dressed. Make your bed. You’re not as likely to climb back in it if it’s made. Scrub your kitchen sink. A clean sink sets the tone for the day in my book. Even if you just move from the bed to the couch…you’ve moved. Keep moving. One step, two steps. Eventually you will be able to take a deep breath again. (Oh, that’s also a thing. Physiologically, grief causes you to sigh a lot which makes you try to take deep breaths and it’s difficult. You almost feel like you can’t get a deep enough breath. Unless you are passing out or have chest pain or prolonged irregular heartbeat or cold, clammy sweat, its nothing to be worried about. Always ask your healthcare professional if you are concerned about your health. However…this sensation disappears after some time.)

Tincture of time. That’s how I dealt with the loss of my husband. Move forward…and pray, a lot. You may not feel Him there, but God is with your every step. He holds you in the palm of His hand and He weeps for your pain. Let Him wrap His feathers around you and take your rest there. Come back here anytime you need some support. You may send me private messages at any time and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Prayers for comfort and strength, dear one. This is a club we didn’t ask to join. You will learn how to perform magic like tap dancing around that husband-sized hole in your heart without falling in…every…damn…time.

Grief comes in waves. At first it knocks you down. Eventually you learn to expect the waves and you can lean in and keep your footing without drowning. It’s almost five years since my loss and I have built a new life. I have expanded my social circle and have learned many new skills. And…much to my amazement…I have found love again and it is so sweet and rich. Mostly because now I have a thorough understanding of just what I lost and how incredibly precious life and love are.

We all know someone who suffers a loss. We don’t always know how to help or what to say. May I suggest bookmarking this page and share it when appropriate? Share it with everyone you know because someone knows someone who is hurting. Let’s make this the year we reach out to widows and widowers and offer them whatever comfort and support we can. ❤️

“Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13:16‬ ‭ESV

“Ramona and Her Pet Burro, Bob” or “How My Memory Has Changed Since Mr. Virgo Died”

Tue, 02 Jan 2018 02:30:57 -0600

We went to the farm yesterday. On our way there, Mr. Fixit pointed out the two little burros huddling in a shed, trying to keep warm in the frigid 9 degree air. Seeing the little burros, my mind immediately went soaring back forty years to one of the favorite periods of my life. When I met Hubby #2, he was a Physical Therapist who worked across the hall from me. I was the X-Ray Tech for a small rehabilitation hospital in downtown Denver. He was also finishing some pre-med classes at CU Boulder in preparation for applying to medical school. We were young and in love and poor as church mice. Daughter #1 was three years old. We had no money so we were adept at finding activities that were free, or nearly so. It was cool to be poor struggling students.

It was the late ‘70s. Trivial Pursuit was HOT and we played it a lot. H#2 told me about the Trivia Bowl that was held annually at UC Boulder. It was free, it was close, and it was fun. It was held in a large room. Two teams sat at tables on a makeshift stage and the audience stood shoulder to shoulder around a packed room…a rowdy crowd. I don’t remember a lot about that night. After all, it was forty years ago. But I do remember one team was called “Ramona and Her Pet Burro, Bob”. How could you forget that, right? I also remember one of the questions was,…”What were the tail numbers on Sky King’s plane?” What??? I knew I was witnessing trivia royalty when one young student slammed his hand down on the buzzer in a fraction of a second and shouted out…”N5348A!” You’re kidding! Ok, I Googled it just now…but I was in awe back then. Who remembers stuff like that?

My memory isn’t what it used to be. You don’t get to Medicare age without losing a little something. It’s been made worse by grief and the head injury I suffered in February didn’t help matters. I’ll bet memory loss…or, “grief brain”…is the subject I address most often with those who have recently lost a loved one. I remember I thought I was going crazy or something was wrong with me when I couldn’t keep track of anything in the first couple of years after losing Mr. Virgo. I made lists and then couldn’t remember where I put them. Or my notes seemed cryptic and made no sense when I revisited them. It was a scary time. Will my memory come back? Will it get worse? What is wrong with me?

I don’t remember who told me about grief brain (see???) but I do very much recall the overwhelming sense of relief I felt knowing it wasn’t just me. That’s when I knew for sure I needed to write this blog. Because not everyone has someone to mentor them and while I wasn’t far enough along to actually BE a mentor, I could share what I was learning and feeling along the way. One of the greatest gifts you are given from grief comes when you turn around and offer a hand to someone who is further back the road than you are. It is the price we pay for the grace we receive during our own grief journey.

Memory…its a slippery sucker. I still will get a brilliant flash of an idea for a post that I just know will resonate with someone…and if I don’t write it down, or make some sort of correlation in my mind to remember it later, it’s gone. That is probably the single most frustrating thing I face when I write. I still have a hard time making myself write down ideas because I swear I’ll be able to remember. It’s aggravating. The tool that helps me most is the “Note” app on my phone. I can jot ideas down and when I hit a lean period and have trouble coming up with a topic, I go into my list and find something that is currently applicable. It’s not like it used to be. It never will be. But it works for the most part.

Just knowing you aren’t alone in this is often all you need to relax into the flow and be present with your feelings. No matter how difficult your struggle, God is always there with you whether you feel Him or not. Knowing that can bring enormous comfort. ❤️

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”” ‭‭Joshua‬ ‭1:9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Out With the Old...In With the New!!!

Mon, 01 Jan 2018 02:30:47 -0600

I love when the calendar turns to a new year. The slate is wiped clean and you can start fresh…a great big do over. Never was this more impactful to me personally than January 1, 2014. It was the first New Year’s Day after losing Mr. Virgo. Somehow, I had it in my head that if I could just say “My husband died last year” it would somehow make the loss easier. It didn’t. Not by a long shot.

I had, in my crazed grief-stricken brain, thought it would be a good idea to start dating someone…just five months after my sweet husband died. Holy Mother of God…what was I thinking??? In my defense…I wasn’t thinking. That first year…well, really the first two years…I wasn’t sane. Not in a conventional definition of the word anyway. I did some things right, but my thinking was just off. My decision making skills were lacking. Thank God time and lots of prayer and introspection have brought me to this new place…this new life.

Now when I look at the New Year, I contemplate where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and formulate new goals. I don’t make resolutions. I’ve never kept a resolution in my life. But I do come up with a focus word. The word for 2017 was “Reach”. I think I lived up to that. I launched a new website. I spoke to several groups. I was interviewed on several podcasts and publications. I had a branded series developed for me called “Getting Bolder” on the Sisters on the Fly website. I continued to write an essay every day here. I traveled to Florida twice, the Outer Banks, Tennessee, and Colorado. I camped and/or had outings with the Girl Campers and Sisters on the Fly several times. I continued working on my social media platform to improve my chances of selling this book I’ve got basically written. And…I introduced you to Mr. FixIt. It’s been a really big year and I reached about as far as I could!

So, now I need a new word for the new year. There are so many things I want to practice in the coming year. Patience. I am not a patient person. Compassion. I try, but I am not always successful practicing compassion with people who try my patience. Love. I want to feel my Heavenly Father’s love and involvement in everything I do so that I might feel that same love toward everyone…including those to whom I want to show compassion because they have tried my patience. You see where I’m going with this? You might think I’m going to choose the word “Patience” to meditate on this year, but you’d be wrong. I learned a long time ago not to pray for patience because when I do, God gives me every single little opportunity to practice it and I just don’t have it in me to be that challenged anymore. No, I have a different word in mind.

My choice? Presence.

If I am present in all I do, I am here to show up and do what is needed. If I am present…I feel God’s love. If I am present…I can actively choose to love others as Jesus loves me. If I feel God’s love, and actively choose to love others the way Jesus loves me, in every interaction I have…everything gets better. My relationships with family and friends are bound to improve. My interactions with others…even complete strangers…can only improve when I exemplify the kind of love Jesus has for me.

How do you remain present in today’s hectic world? To achieve the kind of presence I am looking for, I need to start every day with a connection to the Source. I need to reach for His Word first…before Facebook. Before the news and weather. Even before Mr. FixIt. It doesn’t take much. Five minutes. Five minutes first thing every morning, before anything else, I will seek His face and feel His love for me. I will invite Him to come into my day…into my world…and walk with me. It’s no different than asking any other loved one to go for a walk with me. But the benefits are undeniably higher.

That’s my word. Presence. Feel every moment. Focus on God’s love. Bring His Love and Light into every aspect of my life. I can’t help but shine! ❤️

“After looking at the way things are on this earth, here’s what I’ve decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that’s about it. That’s the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what’s given and delighting in the work. It’s God’s gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now. It’s useless to brood over how long we might live.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭5:18-20‬ ‭MSG‬‬

True Love Has No End

Sun, 31 Dec 2017 02:30:44 -0600

They weren’t much more than kids when they met. I remember the first time I met my cousin Tommy’s girlfriend, Suzy. I had such a crush on Tommy in his Navy whites. And Suzy was as sweet as they come. She’s been around as long as I can remember.

I’ve told you about Tommy. He has mesothelioma. There is no cure. And up until the last few years, there really wasn’t much to even offer people in the way of treatment. But they did their homework and took Tommy to the doc who wrote the book on Meso and as a result, he has had two really good years he may not have had before.

The treatments Tom has received are not without side effects. The toxic meds have all but killed his kidneys. They have exhausted treatment after treatment yet, thanks to generous donations and scientific breakthroughs, more and more treatments become available. Maybe someday, they will find a cure. Because…you know. Cancer sucks.

Tommy faces his illness and death with a positive attitude and a great deal of courage. They haven’t been afraid to “start the conversation”. They talk about death and his design…how does he want his story to end when he gets to the last chapter. Suzy is brave and strong. Their love knows no bounds as they recently celebrated their 56th wedding anniversary.

This year, Tommy wanted to give his “best girl” a gift that would knock her socks off. He wanted something so deeply meaningful that she would cherish it forever. Their daughter videotaped the moment for posterity. Suzy opened her gift ever so slowly. Indoor/outdoor slippers. (laughter) Then someone points out there’s something inside. Suzy looks closer and there it is…a small box tucked into one slipper.

“You stinker,” she gently chided this man she’s known forever.

She goes on to open the second gift when a puzzled look comes across her face. She turns to Tom and says, “For us?” She thought they were a matching set of rings. She looks again and finally can see…they are earrings. Someone off camera says…”Look at the ring.”

Suzy is still puzzled then Tommy holds up his left hand and she can see he is no longer wearing his wedding band.

“No!” she cried. “No! Not your ring!” You can see she is instantly devastated. Until Tommy bends toward her and shows her that he has had the date of their wedding engraved on the back. At this point, The enormity of this selfless gift suddenly hits Suzy and she puts her face in her hand and cries.

This is a sweet, personal moment between two wonderful people who love each other without limits. No disease…no cancer…not even death will truly separate these two. I asked for permission to share their story here. For one reason, I love them both so much. Second, I wanted to stress the importance of having “the conversation”, and three…I wanted to give you an idea what to do with his/her ring. Earrings made from a ring that has been cut in half would make a wonderful remembrance.

We don’t know the future. It’s not a matter of if, you know. It’s…when. We pray for a cure. We pray for new medicines. We pray for good quality of life. Time. We pray for time. Lots and lots. Oodles of time. We will love our loved ones like it’s our last day on earth…or theirs. And we will hold fast to the tokens of love like there’s no tomorrow. ❤️

www.facebook.com/melissa.a…

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

Let Me Entertain You

Sat, 30 Dec 2017 02:30:39 -0600

One of the all time BEST things about Mr. FixIt is this…he LOVES to have guests over as much as I do. I know it’s hart for you to believe but…I love to talk with people and learn about them and visit and tell stories. We had dinner guests three times this week. What a blessing it is to share a table with friends and family.

We started with an appetizer of baked brie en croute with fig jam. It sounds like something complicated but it wasn’t. I bought it at Sam’s, baked it at 375 for 20 minutes. Done!

Our dinner guests brought salad and I served it with hot rolls and an aioli of crushed herbs, salt, pepper, more of that wonderful Chardonnay Garlic infused olive oil drizzled over top, and a small pool of both Mango pulp and Blueberry vinegar. Yummmmm!

For the main course, I roasted two chickens. I did something completely different. I stuffed them with whole garlic cloves, quartered onions, and wedges of lemon. I trussed them up with kitchen twine, rubbed the sling with Chardonnay Garlic Olive Oil and sprinkled them with fresh ground pepper, ground pink Himalayan salt, more garlic, rustic herbs, and crushed rosemary. I placed a parking rack in a roasting pan and baked them at 350 for a little over 2 hours. OMGosh! When I cut into that chicken and the aroma of lemon and garlic hit the air? Wowza! It was awesome.

I accompanied the meal with fresh steamed broccoli with mashed potatoes and gravy (Sam’s ready made Yukon Gold Mashed Potatoes and Teay’s Valley Cream gravy made this part of the prep fast and easy.)

Dessert was homemade Gluten Free Bread Pudding with a dollop of French Vanilla Ice Cream. It was pretty heavenly!

Served with a Pinot Noir or my personal favorite, Fré dealcoholized wine, this was a meal fit for royalty. And it really wasn’t that difficult, or expensive, to throw together.

Here’s the recipe for the dessert. Bon Appetit!

Gluten Free Bread Pudding

6-8 slices of stale gluten free bread, cubed 4 eggs 2 cups milk 3 tablespoons Splenda blend brown sugar 1/2 c. Stevia for baking 1/2 tsp. Cinnamon 1/4 tsp. Apple Pie Spice 1 tsp Vanilla 1/2 tsp salt 3-4 big handfuls of raisins About 2/3 c. chopped pecan4 T. butter, melted

Cube bread and place in prepared baking dish. In this case, I used an 8” iron skillet sprayed with Baker’s Joy.

Add raisins and pecans.

Mix the rest of the ingredients and pour over bread. Using a fork, press the cubed bread down into the egg mixture to moisten it thoroughly. Drizzle the melted butter over the top. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven till the top begins to brown and the filling is springy to the touch. Serve warm with ice cream.

❤️

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” ‭‭Revelation‬ ‭3:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Doing the Right Thing

Fri, 29 Dec 2017 02:30:07 -0600

I love doTerra products. I especially love their LifePak vitamins and use them, along with a cannabis ointment to control the crippling plantar-palmar psoriasis I got after Mr. Virgo died. When I purchase these vitamins, I get reward points that I can redeem for free oils or other products. I didn’t realize just how many points I had until a couple of weeks ago. So, I had a grand time ordering bunches of stuff!

I received a notice in the mail just before Christmas that my box had arrived but it wouldn’t fit in the mailbox. I’m not sure why they didn’t deliver it to the door. We were home and could have received it, but it was during the Christmas rush so I am sure the mail carrier was overwhelmed. I went to the Post Office Tuesday and picked up my package. It was like a late Christmas gift to myself!

Yesterday, I received three more boxes. In those boxes were three bottles of shampoo and two more Copaiba oils. I looked back at the emailed order confirmation and I had only ordered one shampoo and one Copaiba, among other things. That is when I also noticed that I didn’t receive one of the items on the original order.

I contacted customer service via the chat app on doTerra’s website. I spoke with Jakob and explained the situation. He said he would be happy to send out the missing item right away and email me a label to ship back the duplicate items. He offered to award me 10 bonus points for my inconvenience. In the course of the conversation, I told him I could have just kept the extras but that wouldn’t have been the honest thing to do. He came back and said he appreciated customers like me and he was going to add 20 bonus points instead of 10! That is free product in my mailbox…all for being nice.

I began this blog five years ago. I have written an essay nearly every day, covering a wide range of topics from my grief at losing Mr. Virgo to camping in the wilderness of Colorado to living on the family farm. I’ve talked about childhood memories, recipes, farm cats, and family. I’ve touched on sensitive subjects like depression, anxiety, sexual abuse, and even came close to the third rail of politics…at least in the sense of trying to get along. I’ve talked about God and my faith and the importance of being good for goodness’ sake. In all that time, I can count on one hand the times I’ve had someone post something negative to me here. Do you know how rare that is in this business? The internet lets the bars down for rudeness because our interactions are not face-to-face. This emboldens some people to bring out the ugly side of humanity.

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you all…every single one of you. You meet me in this space and we have mutual respect and caring. There have been times when I have considered quitting. There have been times when it has become overwhelming and I have had trouble finding my voice. There are times when I feel perhaps I have said everything there is to say. It got better when I reached the point that I could lay down the burden of my grief and I realized I didn’t have to talk, or write, about it all the time. And, every time I’ve thought of stopping, I get feedback from you. Someone says, “You were speaking to me today.” or “This spoke to my heart this morning.” That’s when I realize…I’m not done. God is still using me to deliver the hope and encouragement only He can give. I ask Him for the words. He gives them to me freely. He will tell me if it’s time to quit.

So, I’ll be here every morning as you have your cup of coffee, or every afternoon when you take a break, or every evening when you stop and catch up with what’s been going on with everyone. I pray you find hope and joy and peace here. I hope you see the goodness in my life comes straight from God and it brings you closer to Him. Your “likes” and your “shares” and your comments bring His word to a greater and greater audience. We all spread Light and Hope and Joy when we share Him with others.

Thank you…for being here, for listening, for loving on me. Thank you for another year’s journey. Thank you for the many, many blessings you bring me. It is an honor to be invited into your hearts and lives every day and I do not take that lightly. Thank you for letting me be…well, ME! I am richly blessed. ❤️

“The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!"” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭50:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Hygge = Comfort

Thu, 28 Dec 2017 02:30:42 -0600

Yesterday was a much better day. It still amazes me how quickly things shift for me since losing Mr. Virgo. Yes, it’s been nearly five years since he died. Yes, I am in a wonderful, fulfilling relationship. But am I the same as I was before the loss? No…not by a long shot. Is every aspect of that a bad thing? The loss…yes. The grief has been incredibly difficult. But the peace and personal growth I have grasped between the waves is nothing short of miraculous.

I spent some time at the farm, soaking in the quiet winter sounds. Then came here to a quiet house. Mr. FixIt was off running errands so I curled up on the sofa, wrapped in the warmth of my fur throw made from the coat Mr. Virgo gave me our first married Christmas. The fire was going. The tree was lit. The soft scented candle I got for Christmas filled the air with the sweetness of apples and cinnamon. I asked Alexa to play the Zen Garden station on Amazon Music. The sun outside the window glittered on the new fallen snow. A cardinal sang in the brush next to the house. A cup of tea sat at my side. The freedom and peace was palpable.

Again, in my ever hopeful way, I stared out the window…searching the barren landscape for the beauty of winter. It’s difficult for me. I’m a summer girl. I let my eyes move across the the hill to the road and over to the meadow. I love it here. There’s five acres of flat land out there. I let my mind wander to past dreams. I’ve always wanted a place where I could hold retreats for artists, writers, craftspeople. A place where my Sisters and Girl Camper friends could bring their trailers and circle around a campfire. The big pole building out back is the perfect size for barn sales and dances. I let my eyes move on. There’s a pool between the building and the house. I smiled. Pool parties, family gatherings, barbecues. I have plenty of things to look forward to in the coming months.

I am also reminded of the term “hygge”. Originating in Scandinavia, the term means “simple, cozy pleasures, gratefulness, focusing on a better quality of life, taking pleasure in the presence in the gentle, an appreciation of the simple things in life, soothing things, a practical way of creating sanctuary, a place to restore and revive in the middle of very real life, evoking feelings of comfort” according to a recent article by Jan Zimmer, (Port Huron, Mich.) of the Times Herald. This will be my focus for the coming months. I will embrace the sunshine when it comes. I will listen for the song of the winter birds. I will sample teas and read and commune with my love. And, I will enjoy this end of the pendulum’s swing while I have it. ❤️

“…his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭30:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Santa IS Real

Sun, 24 Dec 2017 02:30:27 -0600

He held three beautiful children on his lap that afternoon in the mall. Three shining faces, looking up at him in rapt attention, their eyes glittering in awe. He’d done this many times over the years…listening to the repeated requests for dolls, trucks, maybe a baby brother or sister once in awhile. It never got old with him. He was born to be Santa!

As the children got up one by one and gave the jolly man a hug, they smiled into the camera for that “Christmas Card shot” and he sent them on their way with a candy cane and a wave. He looked around and saw the line had finally thinned and he could take a much needed break. That’s when he saw her.

A woman stood alone, a fair distance away, but not so far that he missed her tears. Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a few moments.

“What’s this?” he thought. “Something’s up.”

The cocked his head to the side, and without looking away, he moved slightly to his left in the chair, and patted the seat beside him. The woman looked a little startled, as though she might turn and run. But, he softened his shoulders, softened his eyes, and patted again.

The woman gripped the wad of Kleenex in her hand, took a deep breath, and moved cautiously forward. At first, she sat on the stool at his feet with her eyes cast down. She didn’t say a word. He bent forward and whispered.

“Please, sit here. Come up here where I can talk to you.”

The woman dutifully got up and moved to the seat beside him. He could tell she was visibly distraught and he didn’t want to rush her. There was no one in the line and the mall had hit the mid afternoon slump.

The woman began to whisper and he had to lean in close to hear her.

“I lost my husband.” she said. “I need a new heart.” At this point, she burst into tears. He put his arm around her. He pulled her close in to his side and whispered.

“I am so sorry.” There wasn’t much more he could say to that.

The woman struggled and managed to choke out the words. She had lost her husband to a sudden heart attack as they were standing in a travel trailer, picking out one to take them on adventures in retirement. And then he was just gone. She didn’t know how she was going to live without him. It broke his heart.

After a while, the woman regained her composure and apologized.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I must look a fright!” she said.

“You’re perfect.” he whispered as he handed her another Kleenex and they smiled at each other. She got up to leave.

“Will you have your picture taken with me?” he asked.

“Really? I’d love to.” she replied.

As the “elf” handed her the photo, she looked at it and her lip quivered ever so slightly.

“Thank you for stopping.” he said.

“Thank you for being real.” she whispered back.

It’s been five Christmases since I met my Santa. Every year, I send him my letter, telling him what I’ve done this year…things I’ve accomplished, things I still need to do. And I thank him. For being so kind to a grieving widow suffering through her very first Christmas without her love. Santa writes back and tells me his life was forever changed that day and he is so happy to see me doing better every year.

It’s going to be a big letter this year! I get to tell him about Mr. FixIt and how much bigger my family is now after adding 12 more people to it…including a new great granddaughter! I get to tell him about our travels and how we got to spend time with my Colorado family this year and how much I miss them at Christmas.

I think I taught him a lot that year. I taught him just how difficult it is that first year without your love. The second was probably worse. At least, it was for me. If you are struggling with the loss of your loved one, do be gentle with yourself. This is such a fragile time of year. I’m here to say…with time, prayer, hard work, and perseverance, life can get better again. Joy cometh in the morning, the Bible says. And, it does.

Oh, and just in case you’re wondering…Santa IS real. And…he is my friend. ❤️

Dear Santa…

“May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”” ‭‭Ruth‬ ‭2:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Love,

Ginny

UPDATE: Snowy Owl Rescued

Sat, 23 Dec 2017 02:30:03 -0600

If you look at the photo on the left, you see a healthy young owl. You also see a bird from the Arctic that knows nothing about roads. Here it sits in the middle of Emerson Avenue…a busy two lane blacktop north of Parkersburg.

The photo on the right shows the same bird but notice his right wing. It’s now much lower and the bird is remarkably thinner. My birder friend, Julie Zickefoose, surmised it had been injured in some way in the two weeks between pictures and could no longer hunt properly. It turns out, she was correct. Someone came forward this week to say he had hit this snowy owl up on Emerson Avenue when it swooped down in front of him. Mystery solved.

People continued to encroach on the owl’s personal space, interrupting its sleep and stressing it out with their closeup selfies even after being warned away. A decision was made and the owl was rescued by the Avian Conservation Center of Appalachia for rehab.

I’m glad the bird has half a chance to survive. I have no idea what the future will be for this magnificent creature, but at least uninformed locals aren’t trying to throw a coat over it and stuff it in a box. ❤️

UPDATE: Injured owl in Vienna rescued by Avian Conservation Center http://www.thenewscenter.tv/content/news/Arctic-Snowy-Owl-visits-Vienna-465065953.html

“The righteous care for the needs of their animals, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭12:10‬ NIV

Here We Go a’Wassailing

Fri, 22 Dec 2017 02:30:51 -0600

I remember going caroling as a young girl. A group of my friends and I would gather and roam the neighborhood, ringing doorbells then singing carols to the family who answered. Of course they were home. It was just after dinner time…families were always home at dinner time.

I loved Christmas when I lived in England. Steeped in such old world traditions, carolers there literally looked as though they had just stepped from the pages of a Charles Dickens novel. Wassail is both a greeting and a drink. Traditional wassail is a complicated affair that includes eggs. This recipe is more like what we call spiced, or mulled, cider. Victorians carried a bowl of wassail out into the street and sold cupfuls for pennies. A bit of toasted bread was placed on top. Hence, the expression…”Let’s have a toast!” when you raise your glass.

Wassail, or spiced cider, or mulled wine…all conjure up Currier and Ives scenes of horse-drawn sleighs, women in capes and muffs, men in top hats, snow gently falling. Sleigh bells jingling with the rhythm of the horse’s gait. The last scene of one of my favorite movies, White Christmas, shows this very picture as they throw open wide the doors behind the stage.

I doubt we will have a white Christmas this year in West Virginia. But we WILL be having “The First Annual FixIt Family Holiday Extravaganza” on Saturday. This will consist of the WVU Basketball game, hors d’oeuvres, opening presents, and eating a big pot of chili with homemade cinnamon rolls for supper. I’m over my cold, thank you God! (Zicam is my secret weapon…reduces a two-week ordeal to three days!) I didn’t go to Colorado this year…for a number of reasons. Mainly because Mr. FixIt had hand reconstruction surgery two weeks ago and couldn’t do much of anything. He’s doing really well…thank you for your prayers. He went to get the stitches removed but it’s not quite healed up enough for that so he’ll go back next week.

What are some of your favorite family holiday traditions? I’d love to hear them! And, if you have a recipe you’d like to share, please do. ❤️

“Now I commend you because you remember me in everything and maintain the traditions even as I delivered them to you.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭11:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Messages From Beyond

Thu, 21 Dec 2017 02:30:12 -0600

I first met Sheba Wheeler at a holiday dinner at The Warwick Hotel in downtown Denver. Mr. Virgo was the Food & Beverage Director and had invited me to come down to the restaurant so we could at least see each other that day. Seating was limited so singles were being asked to buddy up at tables. I always enjoy family style seating as I get the opportunity to meet interesting people.

Sheba and I hit it off from the get go. She was also a writer, working for the Denver Post. She’s a superb photographer and we enjoyed an evening of lively conversation. There was something about Sheba that drew me to her. She seemed exotic and mysterious and as comfortable as an old quilt. She had really great energy and I felt she was special…as in, she had “gifts”.

I’ve kept in touch with Sheba all these years and have watched her open up to accepting the gifts she has. She’s had many life changes…a new relationship, a couple flooding disasters that forced her out of her home, the loss of a job she loved. But with every door that closed, another opened.

Sheba grew up in the church and her faith was instilled in her at an early age by her family. At the same time, she knew she was different. She “saw things”, “felt things”, “heard things”. It turns out, she learned long after her death that her mama had “the gift” too. It happened after she moved in the new house

It wasn’t till she moved into a new home that Sheba got a real taste of what was to come. There was a spirit there. A Victorian woman named Theresa. She “visited” her. Sheba saw her clearly…heard her voice…felt her presence. She called in an investigator who helped her communicate. The investigator became her mentor and told her about her abilities as a medium. Sheba fought it for months till she finally embraced her gift. And once that door was opened, she became quickly overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of spirits clamoring for her attention.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. “Oh, that’s impossible.” “It’s heresy…evil…black magic.” “It’s demonic.” “It’s not Christian!” Listen, I’m here to tell you…I am a Christian. I love my God and have put my faith in Jesus. AND…there are unexplainable mysteries in life. The first time I saw my grandpa in the garden, leaning on his hoe, wiping his brow and waving…a full two years after he died…I was stunned. My grandma had told me long before that if I ever smelled roses around someone and there were no roses there, it meant someone was going to die. That has literally happened to me. When my aunt learned that these things had happened to me, she taught me to look at the time when I had “feelings” so I could look back later in comparison.

I believe Sheba when she says spirits visit her. I have no reason to believe she is mentally ill. I do not believe she is evil. Yet she is attacked weekly by people…mean people…over what many call “the gift”. In 1 Corinthians, Chapter 12, Verse 10 speaks of the Holy Spirit gifting certain people with the ability to “discern spirits”. I believe that’s what Sheba does…she discerns spirits around her.

I hadn’t had a chance to chat with Sheba in a long time and she kept popping into my head. I’ve learned to follow through when that happens, so I texted her. We chatted a while. I told her I had been following her posts about her gift. She had met Mr. Virgo. I asked her if he had ever tried to contact her. She said no but she could try from her end. I didn’t hesitate in asking her to do so. She asked for his full name and some bit of information only he and I would know. I gave her his dad’s nickname for him. Now, remember…this is via text. She told me she had never tried this avenue before but she would do her best.

I waited a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. Soon she came back…laughing. She said, “He’s here! The first thing he said was….Well, it TOOK you long enough!” You see, Mr. Virgo and I watched all the ghost hunting shows. We downloaded an app on my phone that could detect changes in the electromagnetic field. And, we promised each other that if there was any possible way to reach out and send a message from beyond, we would. I’ve felt his presence. I’ve even heard his voice on one occasion. I’ve had my cards read…not Tarot…just ordinary playing cards. I’ve been told he’s “with” me. I was even told the person was given a mental picture of the two of us, sitting in white wicker chairs on a covered front porch, drinking something out of mugs. That would describe our typical morning having coffee on the front porch. He told her to tell me those were the happiest times of his life, being out there with me. But, this was different. I was asking someone to connect with him directly and let me ask questions and get answers.

I asked if he was ok.

“Yes.”

Are you happy?

“Yes, it’s all love and light here.”

Then Sheba said, “Wait a minute. He’s really upset. I had to tell him to reel it back a little. It drains my energy too fast.”

She was still for a few moments when she came back and said, “He says he’s sorry. He’s sorry he left you like that. He didn’t mean to.”

“I know he didn’t. He doesn’t have to be sorry.”

“He’s saying “Nooooooooo…I was supposed to do something!”

Immediately, I knew what he was talking about. The doctor had told him five months before he died that he needed a complete cardiac workup. He refused. I think he was saying he should have had the tests done then this wouldn’t have happened. He knew I had forgiven that. But he couldn’t forgive himself.

“You need to talk to him, Ginny!” Sheba said. “You need to tell him he needs to forgive himself…that you’re ok…that everything is as it should be, as it was meant to be.”

Sheba had to get to a meeting and we rang off. I thanked her, and told her I didn’t feel this was a “dark” thing. Then I sat back and talked out loud to Mr. Virgo.

“Honey, listen…I know you didn’t mean to leave me. I know you had a strong work ethic and you didn’t think you could take time off during the ski season. And, I know it must be upsetting to know you might have avoided this…for a while. You have to forgive yourself. Let this go. It is what it is. It was hard. It still is, sometimes. But I’m doing well. I’m happy, I’m healthy, the family is great, and I have this wonderful man that loves me like you did. Just let it go now, ok?”

Then something extraordinary happened. You know how it feels when you’ve had a pain for a long time and you resign yourself to it and it just seems like it’s normal to feel pain? Then when that pain goes away, it becomes apparent you didn’t realize how MUCH pain you had been in? Well, when I finished saying what I had to say to Mr. Virgo, I felt as though a huge ball of static electricity suddenly released itself in front of my chest. I hadn’t even realized I’d been feeling that till it suddenly released. I texted Sheba back later and told her and we were both amazed.

I know it may seem far-fetched. Science fiction. Voodoo. Occult. But this is not at all what I feel…nor is it what I believe. I believe the ways of God are mysterious. So far, there haven’t been any documentaries made with empirical evidence, no footage, no recordings, of what happens when we cross over. I am a Christian, and I am a scientist. I believe in mysteries. And, if this mystery brings me comfort, there is nothing wrong with that. I know it may not be what you believe, but it seemed pretty real to me so I thought I would share. And some day…some glad day…we will know. ❤️

“Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. To one there is given through the Spirit a message of wisdom, to another a message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭12:7-11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

*Note: There have been a few edits as Sheba clarified the details with me

The Great Snowy Owl

Wed, 20 Dec 2017 02:30:27 -0600

I love how Facebook can bring folks together that may never meet otherwise. That’s the case of Julie Zickefoose and me. When I was writing posts about the spring bird migration at the farm, a mutual friend “introduced” me to Julie. She is an artist and recently came out with a lovely book called Baby Birds. An artist’s view into the nests of birds in the Appalachian foothills of Ohio.

I was especially intrigued this spring when Julie took in a baby blue jay that had ended up on the ground below the nest and whose parents never showed up. She named her Jemima and taught us all how difficult it is to hand raise a wild baby bird. We watched with fascination as she fed her baby chopped up chicken and meal worms. We held our breath as Jemima learned to fly. We watched with mixed emotions as the fledgling was released into the wild, only to return to the safety of “her tree and feeder” time and again. Jemima is fully grown now but her pin feathers didn’t developed correctly because she was hours away from death by starvation when she arrived so she can’t fly very far till she molts next spring and grows new feathers.

Julie recently returned from a long awaited birding trip to Ecuador. On her way to the airport, she heard about a juvenile Snowy Owl that had made its way from the Arctic to the Mid-Ohio Valley, taking up residence along a creek near the mall in our little burg. Upon her return, she spent all day Monday observing the magnificent bird…and all the people who wanted to get close enough to take pictures. She was interviewed on the evening news and cautioned the public to give the bird space to rest. Here is the link to her story that was on her blog yesterday. It’s very well written and gives you the up close view you crave, but with a telephoto lens. I’ve seen a snowy owl once before. I haven’t gone to see this bird. For one thing, I’ve been under the weather all week. But, more importantly, this bird needs its space and it doesn’t need more people disturbing it. I’ll “see” it the same way you do…through Julie’s eyes. ❤️

http://juliezickefoose.blogspot.com/2017/12/parkersburgs-snowy-owl.html

“You may eat any clean bird. But these you may not eat: the eagle, the vulture, the black vulture, the red kite, the black kite, any kind of falcon, any kind of raven, the horned owl, the screech owl, the gull, any kind of hawk, the little owl, the great owl, the white owl, the desert owl, the osprey, the cormorant, the stork, any kind of heron, the hoopoe and the bat.” ‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭14:11-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Modem of the Mind

Tue, 19 Dec 2017 02:30:33 -0600

I really love living out in the country. It’s peaceful. There’s lots of wildlife. It’s a slower life. I like life slow. I don’t like slow internet, however. Being a writer is a beautiful thing…until I’m standing with my cell phone over my head waving it around like a dead chicken, trying to get just…one…more…bar. It can be maddening.

Many of the images I use in my posts are really large…especially since I got my new iPhone. Great camera equals great pictures. Great pictures equals larger file size. That presents two problems. One, Wordpress only accepts files up to a certain size. Two, internet in the country is powered by two squirrels and a possum! It sometimes takes multiple attempts to get a photo or meme down to an acceptable size. That takes time and patience.

I went to the only office supply store in our little corner of the world and asked what I could do to make our internet work at the far end of the house where I write. We tried a booster. That didn’t work. We tried a repeater. That didn’t work either. Finally, I got the manager and he gave me a lesson in how WiFi works.

WiFi, it turns out, is pretty much like your water system. If you have one faucet in your house, every last bit of water pressure is going to send that water out like Old Faithful. However, if you have every faucet in the house turned on, the dishwasher running, a couple of showers, and someone flushes? You’ll be lucky to get a dribble. When we first got WiFi in our houses, we had a desktop computer, and maybe a laptop. Now we have, in this house alone, two iPhones, an iPad, Alexa, a laptop, two computers and a smart TV. It isn’t any wonder we can’t get everything to run well.

As I was driving home from the store after that enlightening conversation, I thought about how my faith journey can be so much like that WiFi. When it’s just me and God, the signal is loud and clear. I feel His presence. I hear His Holy Spirit in my heart. I connect. But when I start plugging in device after device, my connection gets spotty. I start dropping calls. It is not good to keep God on hold. When I have too many “devices” plugged in, like we all do at the holidays, something has to go. And the first thing that went was my health. I caught a cold. I haven’t had a full fledged cold in a really long time. I mean a knock-you-down-and-drag-your-sorry-butt-to-bed kind of cold. This is that kind of cold, darn it.

The good news is, colds are finite. You’re miserable for a few days and it gets better. I’ll be fine by Christmas. But, it IS a reminder to unplug some of those “devices” and spend some one-on-one time with God so my signal is clearer. ❤️

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” ‭‭Revelation‬ ‭3:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Deportment & Etiquette: Useful Skills or Out-of-Date Sexism?

Sun, 17 Dec 2017 02:30:11 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I went Christmas shopping yesterday. As much as I hate to go to Walmart, especially during the holiday shopping frenzy, we went looking for a specific item we weren’t finding elsewhere. When we arrived at the store, I excused myself to the ladies room.

There was a bit of a line, as one might imagine with half the town out and about the weekend before Christmas. The woman in front of me had a full shopping cart of merchandise and a cell phone in her hand. She had the phone on speaker and it was ringing…unanswered. She turned to me and said, “Go ahead…I have to do this.”

In the stall, I overheard the woman leaving a voice mail. I will paraphrase so as to leave the woman unidentifiable.

“Listen, if you insist on hanging up on me in the middle of a conversation…I’ll tell you what. You’re in a nursing home. I just won’t come visit you anymore. How’s that?! Talk to you later, Mommy.”

I was dumbfounded. Who does that? It’s Christmas, for crying out loud. It was more than just being rude to her mother…in a voicemail, mind you. It was being rude, out loud, in a public restroom, where anyone within several feet could overhear. I debated. How should I react? Should I say something? Make eye contact and show my disapproval? Breathe. Breathe. “God, show me what I should do.”

I decided not to say anything. I do not know the whole story. I don’t know if this woman has an issue. Maybe she had a gun? These are the things you think of in 2017. I came out of the stall, made brief eye contact, and said a prayer. “Father God…protect this woman’s mother from the wrath of her child. And bring them both peace and understanding. May they know your love. Amen”

When I was in school, we were taught deportment and etiquette. Every time I put on a coat, I can see the woman on the auditorium stage at Parkersburg High School.

“Grasp the coat by the collar and pull it up and over your right shoulder as you slip your arm in the sleeve. Then, gently reach behind you and slip your left arm into its sleeve. Do NOT swing the coat over your head like a toreador!”

We walked with books on our heads. We learned to sit gracefully without looking like a lumberjack. We learned grace and manners. Yes, please. No, thank you. Yes, ma’am. No, sir. May I? We learned which fork was for salad, which was for dinner and which was for dessert. We learned not to slurp our soup or our tea. We learned to stir the coffee in our cup without making a lot of noise. We learned manners.

This was in the ‘60s and early ‘70s. In our senior year, girls were finally given permission to wear pants to school. And ever so slowly, deportment went out the window with our bras and pencil skirts and Peter Pan collars. There are certain aspects of our “training” that was decidedly sexist. After all, in many ways, we were really being taught how to catch a good man. Good girls acted in a certain way.

This is the year of the woman…2017. Time’s “Person of the Year” is The Silence Breakers…the women of the #metoo movement. Women who have been the victims of sexual harassment, abuse, molestation, rape….many at the hands of powerful and influential men. But, are they really breaking their silence or just…finally, finally, finally being listened to…being heard? We’ve been telling. We’ve been talking. All along, we’ve been talking. And now, people are listening. Is it a perfect thing? No…it’s difficult and ugly and messy. And there are bound to be untruths told. But the majority…the vast majority of the stories told will be true. And far, far too familiar.

Were we trained to be the victims of men? We were told it was better to be seen and not heard. We were taught to keep the peace, don’t rock the boat, be a “good girl”…no matter what. “Boys will be boys.” “Were you drinking?” “Well, look what she was wearing!” Instead, these brave women are saying, “Nothing…NOTHING gives anyone the right to abuse me in anyway. Period.”

I texted my daughter, the high school teacher…my go-to resource when I want to understand the minds of today’s adolescent. I asked her if they teach deportment and manners anymore. She said nothing even remotely close to it. I asked if it was considered sexist. Was there a lack of funding? Was it outdated? Her answer was…outdated. They don’t call it “Home Economics” anymore. It’s “Food Science”, “Cooking”, “Catering”, “Fashion”…all under the title of “Career Technical Education classes.

Ok, I get it. To tell a girl she has to learn to walk straight and tall, to walk in heels, to put her coat on a certain way, may be considered sexist. Especially if young men aren’t being taught the same thing. I get all that. My problem is manners. Common, everyday decency that tells one it isn’t polite to stand in a bathroom at Walmart and threaten your elderly mother who is living in a nursing home. Threatening to stop visiting her if she hangs up on you again. I don’t get that.

There are parents who do a beautiful job raising polite, functional, lovable children who use impeccable manners and they do it without shaming or beating them. I know many of them. But there are so many more who leave it up to an overtaxed educational system to teach their children how to be decent human beings.

I don’t know the answer. Are there any “Emily Posts” left in the world? How do we teach the youth of today that manners are still important? How do we teach respect? I cannot believe that deportment is outdated entirely. It’s not that I am an old fuddy-duddy. I just want the best for our bright and shining future. ❤️

“And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭6:31‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Things That Make Me Smile

Sat, 16 Dec 2017 02:30:58 -0600

These dishes! Man, do these take me back. When I lived at home, I set the table every night with these dishes for as far back as I can remember. I know the Golden Wheat pattern by Homer Laughlin came from boxes of Duz Detergent. The green pattern was also from Homer Laughlin and was called Pastoral. It came in boxes of Mother’s Oats. Mom would get gas every couple of days so she could get glasses from the service stations. And the only “china” she ever owned came from the Kroger Store. I had a set as well. I had some white teacups with a gold rim on them that came from my grandma. She saved them and kept them nice to use at her and Pop-Pop’s Golden 50th, but he passed away two months before their anniversary. I can’t remember but I might have given them to my cousin so she would have some precious family keepsakes.

As you probably experienced in your home, it was difficult to get an entire set of dishes of one type before they went on with a new pattern, so our dinner tables were often set with a mish mosh of mismatched dishes and glasses. There were often hand-me-downs and “heirlooms” mixed it. And then, of course, there was Melmac and Melamine. Those came in handy when there were active kids in the family.

Mom bought her first real set of new dishes when she came to visit me when I lived in England. We went to market in Newbury twice a week. There were vendors there selling everything from yard goods to blood pudding. Don’t ask. It’s gross. Anyway, mom bought what I thought were the ugliest dishes ever made but she adored them. They were brown (the first strike against them) and had a bold black and white geometric pattern around the edges. I know, they don’t SOUND that bad, but trust me…they were awful. I bought a dainty rose patterned tea set. I was predictable. Mom was the maverick. She may not have had much, but she’d gladly share whatever she had.

This has been wonderful trip down memory lane this month. I guess it’s the holidays and missing loved ones that has be looking back with such fondness. I hope you’ve been enjoying taking a break from the news and the hectic hubbub that surrounds holiday celebrations. I’ll see what else I can come up with from the memory banks. ❤️

““Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭55:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Happy Accident

Fri, 15 Dec 2017 02:30:04 -0600

I love this time of year! There are so many fun things to do…parties, family gatherings, cookies to bake, trees to trim, packages to wrap. One thing I really miss this year is the chance to see my granddaughters perform in their annual holiday programs at school. I miss my girls. So, when Mr. FixIt’s son called the other night to tell us about his youngest having her program, we were thrilled to say, “Yes!”

I asked Mr. FixIt where the concert was going to be and he said it was at the historic hotel downtown. Neither one of us could figure out why on earth they would have it there. The venue isn’t nearly big enough. But, we didn’t ask questions. We just dressed for the occasion and headed downtown last night. We were lucky and found a parking space pretty close. We were really early so we could get a good seat. We got a coffee and walked around looking at the gingerbread houses on display for the contest being held this week. Finally, we headed to the ballroom to find a seat. When we opened the door, it was set up for a Christmas dinner party. We looked at each other in confusion. A gentleman said we could go on in.

“Ummmm, we’re here for the junior high choir concert.”, I said.

Now it was the gentleman’s turn to look puzzled. “This is the First Bank Christmas Party.”

I saw the light bulb come on over Mr. FixIt’s head. He started laughing. “It’s at the school!” he said. “It has the same name.” In his defense, he’s been taking pain pills since his surgery, but we had a good laugh over it. We had plenty of time to get where we needed to go and we found good seats. If it hadn’t been for Mr. FixIt’s misunderstanding, he wouldn’t have seen the gingerbread houses. So, it was a happy accident that we went to the wrong place first.

This particular granddaughter goes to the same junior high I went to. I remember we had a strong choir program so I was looking forward to not only seeing her perform, but to see how well the choir did in general. As it turns out, they’re doing great. Over 270 students take part in the music program. That’s nearly half the students. They did a great job.

School programs always take me back to the days when I performed onstage. I was in choir all through school and loved it. I still remember my first solo. I was in sixth grade and sang “What’s New at the Zoo in the musical “Cowboy on the Moon”. Yeah…it wasn’t Broadway material, but oh…I thought it was magical! The lights, the applause, the nervous excitement, the new dress or choir robe. Some of my most fond memories are of choir concerts. ❤️

“Shout for joy in the Lord, O you righteous! Praise befits the upright. Give thanks to the Lord with the lyre; make melody to him with the harp of ten strings! Sing to him a new song; play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭33:1-3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Let’s Take a Ride on the Brain Train

Thu, 14 Dec 2017 02:30:54 -0600

In the early ‘80s, Hubby #2 was just finishing medical school and was about to start his internship and residency. I was working for a four-doctor Internal Medicine clinic as a Diabetes Educator. The wife of one of the doctors I worked for was writing a book about a kind of water exercise called “Flugel Fitness”. She contracted me to illustrate the instruction manual. In the process of working with her, we had lots of conversations about health and wellness. She had a workout studio and I started some weight loss classes for her. I remember having a conversation with her about my situational anxiety surrounding public speaking and she recommended a book by Shakti Gawain called Creative Visualization. I loved that book and read it many times and it did help.

Creative visualization and guided imagery are sort of like meditation. One image helped me feel grounded. I sat in the lotus position and imagined a lightning rod going from the top of my head, down my spine, and sinking deep within the earth. I pictured energy drawing up from the earth and showering out the top of my head and raining down over me. It was all very New Agey.

At this same time, Daughter #1 was about nine or ten years old. She loved for me to tell her stories at bedtime. Reading Shakti’s book gave me an idea. I wanted to see if creative visualization would work to help an active child settle down and fall asleep more easily. So, I created the Brain Train. We went on lots of “trips” on the Brain Train as I described intricate scenarios. It worked beautifully! She would relax and fall asleep much quicker with this type of guided imagery.

I decided to write a children’s book. I made it like a dry erase book with basic background images. The child uses a marker to draw in what they “see” as they ride the Brain Train through the countryside. It was a fun idea and Daughter #1 loved it. I submitted it to dozens of publishers and received dozens of rejections. Then, about a year later, creative visualization for children took off and there were books similar to mine everywhere. I figure I was just too far ahead of my time, right?

When Daughter #2 came along, she had many of the same anxiety issues I’ve struggled with. One day we were looking through some things and she saw the prototype book that I sent to publishers. I told her all about the Brain Train and we started using creative visualization to help her cope with stress. She loved it as much as her older sister.

I don’t get to talk to the girls as often as I’d like these days. They are busy with their lives. But, yesterday I got to talk with Daughter #2 for a lovely, long conversation. The subject of The Brain Train came up and she told me what an important tool that had been for her and how she still uses creative visualization. She said, “Mom, I still have the painting you did for me. It’s hanging in my bedroom.” She sent me this picture. It brings back so many memories of my girls when they were little. Tucking them into bed…warm from a bath, hair still damp, tummies full of milk and cookies. We would hop onboard the Brain Train and soon found ourselves riding through mountains or along the ocean or through a forest. We saw animals of all sizes and colors. Blue elephants, pink giraffes, polka dot monkeys. We crossed bridges and went through long dark tunnels and soon they relaxed and I heard the familiar deep, even breathing of sleep.

What a gift that was…to learn something I did for them…something I really haven’t thought of in ages…had such an impact. It made me feel like I felt when I held them on my lap, brushing their hair from their foreheads, kissing the top of their heads. It made me feel like a mom. I mean…once a mom, always a mom, right? I mean like a real, active, momming mom. It gave me the feels. ❤️

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

Change

Tue, 12 Dec 2017 02:30:30 -0600

One of the hardest things to deal with since losing Mr. Virgo is…change. And of course, that is the one thing you can absolutely count on in this life. Change. Things change. People change. Situations change. And, unfortunately…places change.

I have to tell you, sometimes you have no way of knowing what God has up His sleeve when He leads you down a certain path. Why this way and not that? Sometimes we never figure it out. Other times, it becomes crystal clear. I love those times. Even when they break my heart.

When I first came to West Virginia, it was just a year and a half after losing Mr. Virgo. I lived on the family farm but only for a few weeks. When my aunt decided she really didn’t want help, I went off on my own for a couple years. I never dreamed I’d have the opportunity to come back and be the caretaker of the home of my heart. When my uncle asked me to take care of the place for him, I jumped at the chance.

I know God has a reason behind every move. There was a plan before I was born. I hadn’t really thought about why I got to live at the farm again. Until yesterday. Mr. FixIt and I have noticed a lot of heavy dump trucks going up the road lately. We heard this summer that they’re putting in a compressor station back beyond the farm so we surmised the work had begun. When we got there yesterday, I drove past the farm and went up the back road. It wasn’t long till we saw the signs. “Road Work Ahead” and “Flagger: Prepare to Stop”.

It’s funny. You hear change is coming. You see what other places look like when they change. Yet, you’re completely unprepared when the change comes and it affects your world. I’m a go-with-the-flow kinda gal, but when I saw them cutting into MY earth, MY world, my HEART…it crushed me. I motioned for the flagger to come over. I asked for details. “What are they doing there?” “How far back are they going?” “How long will this take?” He was a young man. Respectful. He seemed to understand this was hurtful to me. He explained carefully what steps they were taking. I sat and stared till the tears stung my eyes then I had to go.

I remember when they clear cut the back of the farm. I felt like this. But, trees grow back. This is a permanent scar that will never heal. As I sat and watched the big dump trucks back out the ridge to be filled with MY earth, the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart.

“This is why you were given this time on the farm. You are here to memorize every inch of the place. You are here to document the passage. You are here to be a witness.”

Change is inevitable. I know that. I’m doing better with change. I don’t like it. And I especially don’t like them messing with the home of my heart. But, I’m also a realist. I’m pragmatic. There is now going to be a paved road out to the back of this ridge. There will be easier access to the workable land and that will improve the value of the farm. That’s the upside. There’s going to be a lot of sound pollution, increased traffic, as well as some environmental risks. That’s the downside.

I’ve always known my time on the farm is limited. I’ll still be taking care of it for the foreseeable future. And I’ll be saying goodbye to what it once was…one truckload of dirt at a time. ❤️

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A New Old Tradition

Mon, 11 Dec 2017 02:30:29 -0600

Mr. Fixit and I have a unique relationship. Even though we have only been together a year, we share our earliest childhood memories because we grew up in the same town, at the same time. We are a little over a year apart in age, yet we graduated high school together. We have a lot of conversations that start with…”Hey, do you remember…?” That is unusual unless you’ve been with someone forever. We were in very early grade school together, then my family moved from Parkersburg up to Vienna…the next little town upriver. We joined up again in high school and became the best of friends so, we have literally known each other just shy of fifty years, even though I remember him from 1959.

As we create this new life together, we are revisiting time-honored traditions we each enjoyed with our families growing up. Last night, we shared one of our favorites…driving around looking at Christmas lights. We started our day out going to church. Afterwards, we went to the old Dutch Pantry restaurant for lunch. Now, the Dutch Pantry opened in 1972…the year after we graduated from high school. And, much to Mr. FixIt’s disbelief, I have never eaten there. To celebrate their 45th year in business, the Dutch Pantry is serving four meal specials…at 1972 prices! We had a huge plate of melt-in-your-mouth pot roast over dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans for $2.45!!! It was SO good. Afterwards, we headed to the mall and walked around. I bought a red Christmas sweater for $11 and we went to our first movie together. When we came out, it was dark. We stopped at Rural King and bought cat food and litter, got a cold drink at McDonald’s, and headed to City Park to drive through and see the animated light displays.

One of my most treasured childhood memories was the one night during the holidays when we piled in Dad’s Oldsmobile and drove around to see the Christmas lights. The last stop was the most special. Robert Fankhauser…Dr. Bob…brought me into this world. (Back in the days when they held the baby upside down and smacked them on the butt! Can you imagine???) Dr. Fankauser had a big house on Grand Central Avenue…the main drag through Vienna. He always decorated with elaborate displays. Painted plywood cutouts of angels and carolers and Santa and Rudolph and Elves were the standard fare. But this one year, he made a rocket ship…a nod to the space age we were in. This first photo shows that rocket ship. There was music playing over loudspeakers and everyone drove slowly by with their windows down…ooooohing and ahhhhhhing over the beautiful decorations. It was truly magical.

I love creating new memories with this sweet man who shares so much of my past memories. It is so special and I t makes me smile. ❤️

“I think it right, as long as I am in this body, to stir you up by way of reminder,” ‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭1:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It’s That Time of Year

Sun, 10 Dec 2017 02:30:37 -0600

I visit this topic every year. There’s always a big hullaballoo every year about what to say when greeting others around the holidays. It seems like there are just WAY too many perceived offenses surrounding this subject. There are those offended by “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings”. There are some who are not necessarily offended by “Merry Christmas” but who wish to be more inclusive. Sometimes the debate gets heated and we forget what the whole thing is all about in the first place. Love. The kind of love that transcends all other love.

While I was not born Jewish, I lived as a Jew for 27 years. I became Jewish for a number of reasons, but it was NOT to convert because of a marriage. I married a Jewish man, but I considered myself Jewish before I met him. When he joined a medical practice in a small town on the western slope of Colorado, we were faced with a bit of a dilemma. Everything was strictly “Merry Christmas”. Which is fine. I have no problem with that. The Christmas program included Hanukkah songs, which was great. But, it was Hanukkah songs without acknowledging Hanukkah, per se. The other children in the school weren’t taught there was anything else BUT Christmas. They thought Hanukkah was the Jewish Christmas, and it isn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with Christmas. And, being a stickler for education, I wanted the children to learn about all the winter holidays. I wanted all the children to be included and celebrated. And to do that, it couldn’t just be about ONE holiday…as if that were the only one.

I joined an ad hoc committee on religious sensitivity in the schools. We added books about other winter festivals and holidays to the school and public libraries. We asked for the program to be called the Winter Celebration. We were met with incredible resistance. The mayor of the little town was a former priest. He took great offense at our request. To the point that he hung a banner over the Main Street of town accusing the “heathens of trying to take Christmas away from our kids”. Personally, I really loved that man. He was kind, generous, and worked very hard for our town. He got our local representative involved. It was a real mess. We met with them. We communicated. We pleaded for our children to be included. And, as time passed…they were. We weren’t trying to take anything away from other children. We were trying to expand the scope of the holidays to embrace all children.

I don’t feel any holiday should be diluted. Every faith has its own place in this melting pot of a country. Religious freedom is what this country was founded on. I am a great proponent of inclusivity. In the years since, I have become a Christian. My faith is very important to me. But, I have a memory. And my little girl was ostracized by her peers. She was…to her face…called a “stupid effing Jew” and that is totally unacceptable.

So, here’s my bottom line. I do not care if you say Merry Christmas. I didn’t care when I was Jewish if you said Merry Christmas to me. You were being kind and wishing me well. What’s not to love about that? I, however, will more than likely say “Happy Holidays” to you unless I know for certain that you celebrate Christmas. Because, I am not clairvoyant. Unless you are wearing a Santa suit or elf ears, I’m not going to assume who or what you are. I will respect your human-ness. With a heartfelt holiday greeting.

I love Christmas. And, I love Hanukkah. I am not familiar with Kwanza, but I love that there is such a holiday. For me personally, I love the story of the Nativity, of the birth of the Christ Child. And, I love all of you. I hope this season is full of love, no matter what your faith…or lack thereof. This is a dark time of year, and a dark time of the world in many ways. We all need all the Love and Light we can get…and not just in December! ❤️

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;” ‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3:22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Lost Art

Thu, 07 Dec 2017 02:30:32 -0600

How many Christmas cards did you get last year? Not too many, huh? Yeah…me either. Maybe it’s because I lived on the road for a couple of years. Maybe it’s because Mr. Virgo died. Maybe it’s because the “old guard”…the older generations…are passing on. Maybe it’s because I stopped sending them. Whatever the reason, the giving and receiving of Christmas Cards seems to have fallen to the wayside with the likes of the “Thank You Note” and the “Handwritten Letter”.

I remember it being such an honor for Mom to let me open a Christmas Card when it arrived. I slowly opened each envelope, being careful not to rip the return address. We ooohed and ahhhed over the picture on the cover marveling over the glitter or the crystals of “snow”. We read every word. We pored over the newsy letter that was enclosed in the cards of those who lived far away. These weren’t “brag letters”. These were informative bringing us up to date with the news of the year because phone calls were expensive and this may be the only way to catch up.

My mom knew a man named Mr. Pancake. Really…that was his last name. One year, he had Christmas Cards made. They were cutouts of a pancake with a smiley face on it. Inside, it said “Merry Christmas from the Pancake House.” We kept that card forever. I think it was still in Mom’s treasures when she died. I don’t know if I kept it or not. That was my most memorable card.

I love the photo cards that you can look back on and see how children have grown and the older folks have aged. I even love the “brag letters”. Getting a piece of mail that isn’t a bill or an advertisement is such a joy that I don’t care what’s in it or on it. I just appreciate the thought.

I was shopping the other day and came across the Christmas Card display. I browsed through them, smiling over Santas and Snowmen and Reindeer. My heart warmed at the Nativities and The Wisemen and Angels. My fingers and hands were sparkling with glitter when I chose a small box and took it to the register. When Mr. Fixit got home from Florida, I showed him my prize. He smiled and took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll get my address book.” he said. I smiled back and said, “I’ll get mine.”

Next, we’ll make one that is “ours”. ❤️

“You yourselves are our letter of recommendation, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all. And you show that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:2-3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

He Loves Me...”Like That”

Tue, 05 Dec 2017 02:30:03 -0600

It was December 4th, 2013. It had been 267 days since the love of my life died right in front of me. It was 267 largely sleepless nights. I had made myself put one foot in front of the other…day after miserable, lonely day…for 2-6-7 long $&@#%€* days. I was tired. I was broken. But I was trying.

On this day, I went to work. It was normally an hour commute each way, but on this particular day, the skies opened up and snow started falling at an alarming rate. The further west I drove heading home, the deeper the snow became. When I finally pulled up in front of my house, there was nearly 18” of heavy, wet snow in my driveway. I slogged up the drive and got my snow shovel out. You know…the one with MY name on it…not Mr. Virgo’s. He was gone. Two-hundred-sixty-seven days of…gone.

I shoveled for what seemed like hours. I was numb…physically and emotionally. I could hardly make a dent in the snow removal. I barely got my car in off the street when I gave up and went inside. I marched straight to our…MY…bedroom. I stood in front of the picture of Mr. Virgo and yelled at him. I screamed. I cried. I ranted and raved. He had a lot of nerve leaving me like this…with this house and this mess and this…LIFE! I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I was just so $&@# tired. I didn’t care if I lived or died, to be perfectly honest.

That was a particularly dark and dreadful season in my life. There were a lot of people who helped me through that. I had support from those who loved me and from complete strangers in several widow’s support groups on Facebook. I’m only active in a couple of them now. I see myself there now as a symbol of hope, having survived the worst of it.

The other day, one of the women in the group said “No one will ever love me like that again”. I couldn’t let her go on thinking that…believing that. I know early on…I couldn’t imagine loving again. If for no other reason than I was sure another loss like that would surely kill me. Then time passed, wounds scarred over, and color started to filter back into my life. I started to think…maybe I COULD do this again. I prayed a lot about it and asked God to place a worthy man right in front of me. And…He did.

I wanted this woman to know…your heart can beat again. You can open it up. You can give and receive love. It’s been almost five years since my world fell apart. And, while this man is so different than my late husband, he loves me “like that”. I feel the same joy true love brings. I feel the same hope, warmth, trust. This one is far more passionate…partially because I’m acutely aware of what I lost and I find this so precious. Which brings me to the biggest difference. Fear. When my husband was alive and I used to have the fleeting thought…”What if he died?” I had absolutely zero understanding of what devastation that loss would bring. Now, I know exactly what that loss brought to me. I still don’t know what losing this man would be like, but I have a $&@# good idea. I try to keep the wolves at bay and live in the moment, but they’re always howling in the woods somewhere.

God did not create in us a spirit of fear but a spirit of power and love and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7 is one of my go-to verses when I’m feeling weak and out of control. Mr. FixIt is having some reconstruction surgery on his hand Thursday. Even though I worked most of my career in medicine and was married to a physician for two decades, since losing Mr. Virgo, I don’t handle medical situations very well…especially when it involves someone I love. I read 2 Timothy, and asked a friend to come join me at the hospital for coffee and a chance to catch up. I know it’s not a huge invasive surgery, but I know things can happen. This man loves me…”like that”. I will do my very best to support him in whatever comes our way because…I love him “like that”, too. ❤️

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

Making Progress

Mon, 04 Dec 2017 02:30:04 -0600

Mr. FixIt came home yesterday! happy dance Doggone it…we really miss each other when we are apart. I always say, “But, I still need my space. I have to have time to recharge!” And I do. About four days and I’m good. After that, I’m ready to see that happy smile on Mr. FixIt’s face. It is a good thing to miss your love when you’re apart. It means you’ve got it goin’ on, right?

I worked like a little bee while he was gone. I did some rearranging and cleaning and decorating and nested like a woman about to deliver. (Thank God THAT’S not happening anymore!) I didn’t want to post pictures while he was gone because he reads my posts every day (didn’t I say he was sweet?) and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise when he walked in the door. I have to say, the look on his face was worth all the work. I literally finished minutes before he pulled into the drive!

Really, the only room we’ve done any work on has been the family room. Some paint, a new desk and chair, editing what was in there, and adding some of my special things, and it’s a whole new room for very little outlay. There’s more to do, but it’s really lovely now and it reflects US! This picture is the corner where I set up my desk and chair. I love how the desk closes up, hiding any “office clutter”. The raven on the top is an old orchard decoy I bought thirty years ago. The heron lamp belongs to Mr. FixIt. The quilt was a wedding gift to Mr. Virgo and me from a friend. It hung in the breakfast nook at my home in Colorado. The sign on the top says “Once in awhile, in an ordinary life, love gives us a fairytale.” I bought that to put in my camper as a remembrance of the love I had with Mr. Virgo. And now, it’s doing double duty because I get to live another fairytale!

I’ll share bits and pieces of my decorating as we go along but I have to maintain Mr. FixIt’s privacy as well. Bless his heart, he signed on for a heck of a ride when he asked me out for lunch a year or so ago. He’s never said a word about showing up in my posts, but I want to respect his boundaries at the same time.

The house is decorated for Christmas and this week is jam-packed busy with appointments. I hope you are enjoying your early holiday preparations. If you are experiencing your first (or second, or tenth….doesn’t matter) holiday without your loved one and you’re really missing your person, I hope you are practicing good self care. Reach out here if you need extra support. There are a lot of us here who have been through similar losses and we’re here to help as we can. ❤️

“…I found the one my heart loves.” ‭‭Song of Songs‬ ‭3:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Rheostat

Sun, 03 Dec 2017 02:30:28 -0600

When Daughter #2 was born, I had the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom. Her sister, and only sibling, turned sixteen and got her driver’s license just a few months after she was born. So, I had a lot of time on my hands to devote to the baby. I knew this would be my last child so I read all the parenting books and nurtured her learning from the get go. As a matter of fact, I placed headphones on my tummy and played Mozart and Beethoven to her in utero. Yes, I was “one of THOSE” moms.

Daughter #2 was precocious. She could READ the alphabet at seventeen months. She knew the names of all her body parts, by their anatomical terms. She spoke complete sentences early. She was a beast! Fierce. Determined. Focused. I had flash cards on the wall by the changing table. We would talk about what it was and what it meant and how you spell it and how you pronounce it.

Because of all this exposure to knowledge, this baby was powerfully curious. She pointed at everything and wanted to know what it was, how it worked, and what you used it for. One afternoon, I caught her staring intently at something from her high chair. I followed her gaze. She was looking at the dimmer switch. Soon she looked at me and asked “Whassat?” It was her FAVORITE question! She asked it hundreds of times a day.

I explained to her that it was a dimmer switch, but the thing that makes it work is called a rheostat. I took her outside and showed her the electric lines coming into the house. I told her about electricity. And I told her how a rheostat slows down or speeds up the waves in the electricity and that changes the light from dim to bright to dim at will. After that, wherever we went, she demanded to know if our host or hostess had a rheostat. My friends rolled their eyes at me. “Would you let her be a kid, for crying out loud?” I should have, probably. My daughter struggled because the other kids just didn’t “get” her. She had trouble relating to kids her own age. She’s turned out fine…it just wasn’t easy for her.

Life can be like a rheostat. We can turn up the frequency and shine light out into the world. Or we can turn it down and sit in the dark. There’s something really cool about the light, though. Darkness cannot overcome the light. Only light can overcome darkness. Keep shining your light out into the world. Keep the darkness at bay. Constantly tell the enemy he is not welcome here. Show him your light. Tell him Who you get that light from. Send him packing. Remember your rheostat when you feel down…and turn it up! ❤️

“When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭8:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

MORE Christmas Memories

Sat, 02 Dec 2017 02:30:56 -0600

I have been on such a nostalgia kick lately! Here’s one I know you all will remember and you probably had (still have!) one of these bad boys. My mom had one that she made in a ceramics class. As a matter of fact, I think I might have made one somewhere along the way. I seem to remember painting on the glaze that puffed up like snow and gluing the little ornaments in the holes. Wow…that’s like opening the top of your head and reaching WAY back in the memory banks!

Mom got to the point where this was the extent of her holiday decorating. When Christmas was over, she dusted off the “tree”, put a dry cleaning bag over it, and took it back upstairs to the attic till the next year. I found it up there after she died. It’s one of the things I saved when I cleared out her house. And, unfortunately, it’s one of the only things that broke during one of my many moves over the years. It made me so sad.

I was rummaging around in the upstairs of the cellar house the other day and ran across one of these in a box up there. I need to get it out and set it up on the dining room table. My aunt used to put it out when she lived there.

I was wandering around the mall yesterday and was thinking of more things we used to get at Christmas. Remember those round bath oil beads? They were jewel-toned, came in about four or five scents, and often were in a tube with a plastic crook on the end to look like a candy cane. You put on in your bath and the hot water would melt the gelatin bead and the oil would come out into the water. Only, who could resist picking it up and playing with it till it completely dissolved???

How about the Easy Bake Oven??? OMGosh! Do you remember how horrible that stuff tasted??? Yet, we ate it! There was Chatty Cathy, Betsy Wetsy, Tiny Tears. I always wanted one but never got one. I did get the bride doll that was as tall as me! And I had a Barbie. My Aunt Marge once traded eggs for a Barbie Doll dress that the neighbor made. I knew that was a big deal for her to do that and I took extra special care of that dress.

How about the socks with the toes in them? Or games like Operation or Chutes and Ladders or Candyland. I remember getting a set of Old Maid cards once.

One year, money must have been really tight. Mom ordered our Christmas presents from a catalog and they didn’t come in time for Christmas. So on Christmas morning, mom gave us each an envelope with the pictures of what we were going to get when the box arrived. But then, when the box did come, Dad found out Mom had charged the items so he made her send them all back. We were so disappointed and to this day, it makes my heart ache for her. She had to have felt horrible that we didn’t get a Christmas.

We moved into the house we grew up in over Christmas break when I was in second grade. The house and furnishings were our Christmas that year. I remember my Grandmother bought me a bedroom set. It was grey, very modern. It had a twin bed and a dresser that had a drop Front that turned into a desk. Grandmother made curtains out of pink fabric with grey poodles on them. There was an old TV console in my bedroom and for some reason, she made a cover for that as well. I even had a black metal trash can with a poodle on it! My brothers room was decorated with a Cincinnati Reds theme. That was a grand Christmas!

I remember when I got old enough to babysit, I would go downtown to Kresge’s and buy Mom a little bottle of Evening in Paris perfume or a chiffon scarf. She always acted as though that was the finest gift a mother could have wished for and it made me so proud. I loved wrapping the presents. As a matter of fact…when we got old enough, she would put our gifts in boxes and I’d wrap my own presents! I wrapped everyone’s presents. It took all day on a Saturday. I’d sit on the floor in front of the TV and use up all the bows and the stickers and the gift tags and have a big time. Then I’d pile everything under the tree. We didn’t have a lot. But we had enough. ❤️

““Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” ‭‭Exodus‬ ‭20:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Johnny and Punkin Spice

Fri, 01 Dec 2017 02:30:37 -0600

I have this friend. She’s one of those wonderful shining stars that God places on this earth to be a guardian of animals. I am convinced she is an “angel unawares”. I met Aimee through a high school friend. They were talking at a conference once and Aimee told her about this great group of women campers she belonged to called…Sisters on the Fly. Diane couldn’t wait to hook us up. And I am so glad she did. I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with Aimee. As a matter of fact, I believe we have only seen each other in person two or three times. But it’s always “old home week” when we greet each other like long lost friends.

Not only are Aimee and I “Sisters”…we are also fellow West Virginians. And darned proud of it, I might say. Aimee works for the state and created the COOLEST soil trailer. It’s a cargo trailer that she converted on the inside to give you a “worm’s eye view” of what it looks like in the ground. So, she’s an animal activist, she hauls a soil trailer all over the state to teach kids about the earth, she’s a Sister on the Fly, and a farmer, and she creates beautiful art pieces that she sells at some of the big decorator barn sales. On top of that, she’s beautiful, funny, and I just love her to pieces. Because she saved Johnny’s life.

Johnny was a rescue. Terribly ill, he was essentially a lost cause. The vet didn’t think he could possibly live. But Aimee found out about him (I think she’s on speed dial at the animal rescue) and scooped him up. She sat up with Johnny for days, snuggling him in blankets, taking him in for infusions and tests practically every day. He kept getting sicker and sicker. He was a rescue…but he had wriggled into her heart and she couldn’t give up on him. One night, they made a desperate trip to see the vets at the university in Columbus. It took a while, but they finally diagnosed Johnny with a rare disease that affects his joints. If they could just get him through, things would get better for him and he would live a pretty normal life. But there were no guarantees. They pleaded and prayed and now…look at him! He’s so beautiful. All of us fell madly in love with him and Aimee is great at recording his life for his fan base.

This fall, Aimee was driving down the street in her truck when she saw something very tiny in the road. It was a kitten! And there was a man in a truck alongside the road. The kitten was trying desperately to get in the truck but the man just sat and stared at it. Without thinking, Aimee jumped out, stopped traffic, scooped up the kitten, and ran back across the busy highway. She yelled at the man. “Didn’t you see that kitten?” He just shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.” Oh, he knew alright! He had more than likely dumped that baby right before Aimee drove by. God puts angels right where he needs them, doesn’t He?

This little kitten went to work with Aimee every day as she fostered it. She socialized her and made sure she had all her shots and took extra special care of her in hopes she would forget all about the bad man in the truck. What sent us over the moon was how much Johnny loved his kitty. HIS kitty. Oh…how Johnny LOVES kitties! He would cry and cry until Aimee gave him the kitten. Then she had to sit with him and tell him over and over…”Easy, Johnny. You have to be gentle. Easy. Easy.” Johnny knew, the only way he could have his baby was if he laid down very still…then Aimee would place this tiny little fur ball under this big boxer boy. He laid so still…but his tail pounded the bed like a drum.

Eventually, the kitty found her way to a forever home with a boy to play with. We were all SO worried about Johnny. How would he handle losing his baby? Aimee posted pictures of Johnny with his other kitties. His mommy knows when she has reached the number of animals she can responsibly care for. She did the right thing. And she knows Johnny better than any of us. She knew he would be fine. It’s as if Johnny knew he was only a temporary caregiver for this little baby.

We can learn so much from Johnny. Patience, kindness, caring…unconditional love. He doesn’t care that the kitten isn’t like him. All he knows is…here is someone who needs love and he has love to give.

You never know what kind of stray Aimee will attract next. Right now she is fostering a dog with cancer who is legitimately psychotic. They are trying to figure out how to help her. If anyone can, it’s our divine farm girl…the Dirt Queen. Thank you, Aimee…for having such a huge heart. You are so loved and there are many stars in your crown. ❤️

““But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind. Does not the ear test words as the tongue tastes food? Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?” ‭‭Job‬ ‭12:7-12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Shift

Wed, 29 Nov 2017 02:30:12 -0600

The earth shifted yesterday. Did you feel it? I did. Mr. FixIt is about halfway through his guy getaway to Florida with his buddy and I’ve been staying at his house…feeding cats, cleaning, decorating, rearranging. It’s been great fun.

For those of you who have been following from the beginning, I downsized and got rid of ninety-five percent of my personal belongings when I sold my house in 2014. I brought those things to West Virginia that I could not part with. A friend has been so kind as to let me store them in his basement all this time. I went over a couple of weeks ago and brought a whole truckload over to Mr. FixIt’s house. The Christmas decorations were all put out so yesterday, I got into the boxes of decorator items. A pink Fenton hurricane lamp, an antique cast iron rabbit doorstop, some quilts, my raven decoy, a sign that says “Kindness Matters”…these found themselves mingled with Mr. FixIt’s memories. Looking at the finished project, they could have all been purchased together for just the same house

I went back into the storage room and lugged the heaviest box to the kitchen. This is where I felt the shift. Do you sense what’s happening here? I’m nesting. The lines of “yours” and “mine” are blurring. Nowhere did I feel this as much as when I opened that heavy box. It was filled with china. Precious cargo that has been carted from one side of the country to the other…never seeing the light of day.

One winter day, what seems like a lifetime ago, Mr. Virgo and I were shopping for a tablecloth. When I caught up with him, he was standing in front of a display of china. He was studying something intently so I followed his gaze. When I saw what he was looking at, I gasped out loud. Royal Doulton’s “Tennyson”. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. And, six months later, I got eight place settings for my birthday. I sat down and cried like a little girl. I’d never had anything so…fine.

Those dishes were packed away in 2014 when I sold my house. Yesterday…I carefully unwrapped each one, inspecting them for chips or cracks. They were perfect. I carefully hand washed and dried each piece and set them out on the dining room table in Mr. FixIt’s house. I thought about how far I have come in the nearly five years since Mr. Virgo died.

Mr. FixIt and I still have an unconventional relationship. He has his place, I am taking care of the family farm. We stay a little here, a little there. We travel, and we stay apart a little. It works for now.

I am so blessed that Mr. FixIt gets me. He’s an angel…tolerant of many things. And he’s thrilled to spend whatever time he can with me. The feelings are mutual. ❤️

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain…” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭127:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Stick Tree

Tue, 28 Nov 2017 02:30:45 -0600

You’ve all seen that spindly little Christmas tree Charlie Brown had, right? Basically a stick with some twigs branching off. As far back as I can remember, that was the tree out at the farm. My Uncle Bob was a simple man. When he was told to go cut down a pine tree for Christmas, he did just that. And being a practical man, he brought back one that was easy to carry and would not take long to decorate. He was the smartest of the bunch, turns out.

Grandma didn’t have a lot of ornaments. I remember some of those made by Shiny Bright. There was a very old hand blown Santa that my fat baby fingers accidentally broke one year. sigh And, there was an angel that went on the top of the tree. Her dress was made of vinyl with a net skirt over it. Her upper torso, arms, and head were like a doll made of hard plastic. Her hair was spun glass. And her wings were silver pressed cardboard. Somehow, I managed to acquire that angel. I suppose because I’m the oldest grand daughter and got married first, I don’t know. But that angel has been with me forever. She is too fragile to put on top of a tree…I’m afraid the cardboard tube that slips over a branch might break. So, she gets tucked in a place of prominence on the front of the tree…up high enough to avoid any encounters with two or four-legged children.

We always had a big, fat tree at home that my dad bought at a lot. I remember the excitement of driving around looking at Christmas lights then stopping at the lot to pick out our tree. I wore a woolen coat buttoned up to my neck, someone’s hand-me-down, I’m sure. I had a blue velvet hat that tied under my chin with blue satin ties. And, hanging on one side we’re two white balls made of real rabbit fur. I remember shaking my head back and forth to feel them bounce around. I wore that hat till it literally disintegrated. I wore rubber boots that fit over my shoes and buckles with an elastic string over a button.

Dad would walk us up and down the aisles to choose the perfect tree…i.e. the cheapest without too many holes in it. Once the price was negotiated, an attendant would help Dad carry the tree to the Oldsmobile and strap it to the top with sisal rope. Once we got it home, there was trimming to be done before we could take it in the house. We had strings of lights with big reflectors that went on before screwing the big bulb in. This was a safety feature that kept the needles from touching the hot bulb and catching fire. And many of the ornaments hanging on my tree that I so carefully preserve were placed on those big, fat trees at the house on 55th Street.

I remember feeling so sorry for Grandma and her skinny little Charlie Brown tree. Now I look back and appreciate the simplicity with a fervor. I use an artificial tree now. The first one I’ve had since Mr. Virgo died. I opted for a slender one. I thought I’d be putting it in front of the window at the farm. Instead, it’s over here at Mr. FixIt’s. I never would have dreamed. This is the fifth Christmas without Mr. Virgo. To have found this new love and new joy and renewed zest for life is something I am profoundly grateful for.

It’s the simple things I crave now. Things held by loved ones long gone. Gentle, loving companionship. Soft music. A warm fire. Good food. And a loving God that made all this possible for me. I am richly blessed. ❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:13‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Mon, 27 Nov 2017 02:30:52 -0600

I think this is my all-time favorite Christmas ornament. It’s been in my family as long as I can remember. I have a dozen or so of the smaller ones of the same era but this is the only big one that survived. I can still remember the box it came in. I am always extremely careful with all my ornaments when I store them, but this one especially so. It is so fragile and the paint has been flaking away for years.

There are so many ornaments on this tree that have a story. Baby’s First Christmas. The angel topper from Grandma’s tree. Hand blown glass Santas. A sterling silver tree that was a gift to Mr. Virgo from The Ritz Carlton in 2011. An Old World Santa with the tip of his Christmas tree broken off that Mr. Virgo rescued from the trash at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen. Dozens of coveted hand made ornaments gathered from my friend Judy’s famous Christmas Ornament Exchange Parties. And, the seven Ne’Qua ornaments Mr. Virgo and I bought together on our trips…one for every Christmas we shared.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I found an e-mail the other day where Mr. Virgo had asked me to get our Christmas decorations and stage them in the living room so we could put up our tree that weekend. We always put on White Christmas and decorated the tree together. The first Christmas after he died, I followed the tradition. I did fine until I got up the next morning and saw what I had done. I can’t tell you how close I came to taking the whole thing down and putting it away. I cried for days. It was brutal. The next Christmas was spent in my friend’s apartment, sitting in the dark, staring out the window as the snow slowly drifted down through the circles of light around the old fashioned street lamps of Marietta, Ohio. It was still brutal.

The next two Christmases were spent with my Colorado family. That was much better. We decorated the tree together and baked a million cookies. It was fun.

Each holiday season is a little easier. Last year, even though we weren’t together, Mr. FixIt and I had started dating and had fallen in love. Holidays were again filled with light and love and joy. Mr. Virgo was still there with us in spirit but the sadness of his absence had abated somewhat. This year, Mr. FixIt and I did the majority of the tree trimming before he left for Florida. I finished up last night. I’m actually glad I had those few hours decorating alone. I turned on Christmas carols. (I can’t figure out how to turn on Mr. FixIt’s DVD player. ?) I held each special ornament in my hands and thought of the person who made it, or where I got it, or who was there when it was used year after year. The Ghosts of Christmas Past paraded through the room and through my mind and heart as I smiled through the tears that stung the back of my eyes as Tony Bennett crooned The Christmas Song.

This is a new life…a different life. Another chance at love. Another gift of making memories. My heart is full to overflowing with the beauty of it all. God has been so good to me…us. ❤️

“A cheerful heart is good medicine…” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:22‬ ‭NIV‬‬

With Gratitude

Thu, 23 Nov 2017 10:36:49 -0600

It’s deer season in West Virginia and I bagged my first deer yesterday. Unfortunately, it was with Mr. FixIt’s 2007 Tundra. There was no stopping and I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I didn’t swerve. I held steady. Fortunately, there’s not much damage to the truck but we will have to replace the bumper. I’ve never hit a deer before. One fell down in front of me once but I drove right over it and it jumped up and ran away. I am grateful we weren’t injured and the damage was minimal.

The other night, Mr. FixIt and I were having dinner and talking about Old Mama Kitty being gone. He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and asked, “You don’t suppose she wandered into the cellar house when you were in there last week and got trapped, do you?” OMGosh! The look on my face must have been pure horror. He looked at me with such compassion and said, “Don’t worry…we’ll go right back out there and check.” We drove the twenty-two miles and I ran up to the building and checked but she wasn’t there. Im sad she is gone but I’m grateful I didn’t accidentally trap her and keep her from food and water.

We visited my mom’s sister and brother and his wife yesterday. My aunts are having memory issues and my uncle is caring for them. So far they’re holding their own. Actually, the aunt whose dementia is really bad was having a pretty good day. She recognized me and told me she had been worried about me. She put her arm around my neck and pulled me close. She told me she loved me. She waved goodbye with a smile. I am grateful to have made that connection with my aunt.

My uncle regaled us with funny stories all evening…one of which I thought to record. He told the story about the day they rolled the old farmhouse I’m living in down onto the new basement they built. We all laughed. I am grateful for this man’s strength, courage, and sense of humor. Most of all, I’m grateful for his heart…it is full of love!

I am grateful for my Colorado family. They are healthy and happy and enjoying their lives. My brother is doing well. I’ve more than doubled my family since bringing Mr. FixIt into my life. More people to love!

I am grateful to all of you for making a little space in your lives for my words. You all bless me every day. Thank you for indulging me in my stories. May you all be richly blessed.

Happy Thanksgiving! ❤️

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭100:1-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

You Never Know

Mon, 20 Nov 2017 02:30:47 -0600

You buy a desk…you need a chair, right? And not just any chair. I wanted an old banker’s chair. I found one on Facebook Marketplace. I went to pick it up Saturday. The woman I spoke with over the phone was lovely. I felt comfortable meeting her to pick up the chair.

The house was back away from the road…the quintessential farm house. White with green shutters, a long covered porch. As soon as I drove up to the house, the garage door opened and I was greeted by a middle-aged woman. I’ll call her June. June directed me to the chair and helped bring it out to the truck. We stood in the driveway and chatted for the longest time. This was her parents’ place, she told me. Her dad died in July and her mom is starting the daunting process of downsizing. I told her my heart is with her in her loss…then I told her about Mr. Virgo. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she said, OMGosh! You write a blog! You’re Marshmallow Ranch!

This always slays me when someone knows me. And I always go through a little mental inventory of my behaviors leading up to the moment of recognition. You never know who you might be talking to. I have a certain self-imposed regulation. I want to always put my best foot forward and exemplify good Christian values. It was wonderful to make June’s acquaintance.

The family dinner party was wonderful. The only mishap was forgetting to take the candied yams out of the oven to serve. The company was delightful. I cooked for three days and I was exhausted when I posted this so I’ll catch up more with you tomorrow. ❤️

“She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:27-29‬ ‭NIV

Things That Make Me Smile

Thu, 16 Nov 2017 02:30:12 -0600

I was rummaging around in the basement out at the farm the other day, looking for painting supplies, when I saw the old stove in this great light and had to stop and capture it. I’m not sure why my Grandma did most of her canning down in the basement. I know this past summer the basement was so humid mold was growing on everything. I had to buy a dehumidifier to put down there to keep the humidity below 50%. When she got this baby cranked up with a canner full of boiling water (not to mention the wringer washer) the condensation literally ran down the walls.

There is a good-sized triangular patch of ground across the creek from the house that was the truck garden. This was where most of the vegetables for the table were grown. The canning vegetables, as well as the strawberries for the farmer’s market, were grown back up on the hill. There was a footbridge that crossed the creek to the garden. My uncle ran an electric fence around the garden to keep the deer out. Grandma grew a ton of green beans, corn, cabbage, cucumbers, onions, and tomatoes in that little patch of ground. The potatoes were grown on a similar, though much smaller, triangular patch along the end of the driveway. I spent many hours stringing beans and shucking corn, scalding and peeling tomatoes, and helping any way I could on canning days.

One year we drove all the way to Virginia to buy peaches. I remember they were as big as softballs. Mom was helping Grandma can them and neither one knew the other had stirred sugar into the syrup to pour over them in the jars. When they opened the first jar later on, they were sickeningly sweet. Mom felt so bad…she thought she had ruined Grandma’s beautiful peaches. But Grandma said, “Sis, don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll just make us some peach butter and not have to add any sugar.” They cooked them down and that was the best peach butter ever!

Now, this old stove stands silently in a back corner of the basement…rusted and resting on cinder blocks for legs. This appliance was from a time of resourceful ingenuity… a time when you never threw anything away. You made do. You “recycled” by reusing. You reduced waste simply by being too poor to buy something better. The Baby Boomers were on the tail end of that generation. Ours was a disposable generation. Cheaply made plastic and paper products have filled countless landfills. Grandma didn’t even have trash service till very late in life. You burned what little paper you threw away. You fed table scraps to the cats or hogs. You reused the glass jars that you canned your food in. I’m glad this stove is still here…even though it doesn’t work…it would never be safe enough to use. But it’s like going into the museum of my youth when I go downstairs. And it’s one of the the things that makes me smile. ❤️

“So then, brothers, stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter.” ‭‭2 Thessalonians‬ ‭2:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Letting Out Your Inner Child

Tue, 14 Nov 2017 02:30:05 -0600

I saw something yesterday that totally melted my heart. Daughter #1 is at Disney World with her family and her brother-in-law’s family. She was standing with Mickey and Minnie Mouse. There’s a long story why this was so touching for me.

I was a single mom with #1 by the time she was two years old. It was not easy. We lived in HUD housing. We got WIC and food stamps. There were roaches and the people downstairs abused their kids. I looked in the open door one day when I walked by and my neighbor yelled at me to keep moving or she’d “come up behind me and slit my $&@?ing throat!” It was NOT a healthy scenario and if I had been any brighter or bolder, I would have packed up my stuff and hightailed it back to West Virginia. But that wasn’t what I wanted for my little girl. I wanted her to have every opportunity that I didn’t have growing up and I knew if I worked hard enough, I’d get her out of there. We would have a good life.

And things did get better. I got a really good job. I found a roommate, I lived frugally. I got good daycare. She was never wanting for the basics, but there wasn’t much extra. Just lots of love. Then, we met Hubby #2. He was applying to medical school. We worked really hard. He was a good daddy and a great provider…even though it was many years before we started making any money.

We moved to a small town when my ex finished residency and joined a practice. We were thrilled to be in the mountains and a lovely community. Daughter #1 was going into 7th grade…a tough age to make such a big move. The kids at school only knew her as the “new doctor’s daughter”. There was a group of kids out on the lawn one day, talking about how hard it was to not have money for nice things. My daughter spoke up and said she totally understood that. The kids scoffed and she told them, her dad wasn’t BORN a doctor. There were many nights we ate a box of generic mac & cheese and a tomato out of the yard. She had a genuine appreciation for where she came from and she gained the respect of all the kids.

Still, we didn’t really start making a decent living till she was nearly finished with high school. Then we had her little sister. My girls are nearly sixteen years apart. It was a different world raising the two of them. The level of affluence was drastically different and the little one definitely made out when it came to vacations. My younger one was only two or three the first time we took her to Disney World. By then, her older sister was in college. I never did get to take my oldest to see Mickey and Minnie…something she never, ever let me forget, even though she understood why.

She’s been to Disneyland a couple of times with my son-in-law’s family. But never Disney World. Not till this week. I’ve been going on her Facebook page several times a day to see the pictures she posts. Yesterday…there she was. Beaming. Standing between Mickey and Minnie, grinning from ear to ear. The post simply read, “Six-year-old me is happy.” It made me smile. It warmed my heart. She is showing her children a good time. She is sharing her joy with them. She’s such a good mom and I’m so proud of her. I’m proud of both of my daughters. And…I’m happy they know how to let their inner child out to play. ❤️

“Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭3:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When Things Get Messy

Mon, 13 Nov 2017 02:30:22 -0600

This is the part I hate about home improvement projects…living through the mess till it gets finished. I have done this countless times in my life. You can’t avoid it if you are a homeowner. I did this and then some when my mom died and I prepared to sell her house. She wouldn’t let me do anything to her house when she was living because it meant she would have to throw something away. I completely redid the kitchen and bathroom, painted the whole house, and refinished the hardwood floors…all by myself. It’s ever so much more fun to do a project with someone…especially if you work well together as a team. We took yesterday off, went to church, then out to the farm to feed cats. And today we are back at it.

As I sat down to write this post, a notification came through on my phone. There are nearly a hundred women from Sisters on the Fly down in Port Aransas doing hurricane relief. The very day the hurricane hit, the call went out on the Sisters on the Fly Facebook page. Someone picked up the ball and started The Sister Corps. They immediately started recruiting women to go south to help with the cleanup efforts as they knew help would be needed beyond the immediacy of the storm. The Sister Corps has been posting pictures of the mounds of trash out in front of the houses where they are working. Homes are bare to the studs where drywall must be replaced because of flooding. Bathrooms and kitchens are being replaced. Carpeting and ruined flooring has been ripped out. It makes me look at this room with a whole new vision.

We are freshening this room…not salvaging it. We are making a choice to change outdated colors and carpeting, not replacing everything because of a natural disaster. Again, God humbles me when I get too “uppity” for my own good. This is a joy…a blessing. We are wealthy beyond our wildest dreams. We are rich in love and the bountiful blessings of not one, but two homes to live in. We have the money to buy a few gallons of paint without having to go through insurance adjusters and contractors and estimates to do so. I will look at this project with new eyes today when I am privileged to pick up a paint brush and know I have a comfortable bed to sleep in tonight. I know where my family is sleeping tonight. I know we have food in the pantry and a little money in the bank.

I want to share with you another way God works in my life. The other day, I received notice I needed to make a change in my insurance. I’ve been on the healthcare.gov website and on the phone a few times choosing New coverage. It’s an affordable policy, but still…money I wasn’t necessarily planning on spending. As I looked through the choices, I prayed. “God, show me what I need. I’ll worry about filling out the paperwork…you worry about how I’ll afford what I need.” God always, always provides. You want to know how I know this? Because, yesterday after church, Mr. Fixit and I went to the post office to pick up the mail and there were, not one but…TWO checks in there. Not enough to pay for a full month of insurance. But enough to cover my tithe for the next three months.

This is how God works. He has countless, countless blessings for YOU. They have your name on them…specifically. And he so wants to give them to you. But…he waits for you to ask for them. Don’t come out of the chute asking for those blessings directly, either. Come into the conversation thanking Him for the blessings he has already showered on you. An attitude of gratitude is a fair way to start a prayer when you are asking for more.

Thank you, God…for the unexpected bounty you have blessed me with. I am so grateful. ❤️

“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” ‭‭Malachi‬ ‭3:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Closet Christian

Sat, 11 Nov 2017 02:30:29 -0600

Sometimes it’s hard to walk the talk. And sometimes it’s even more difficult to talk the walk. I shied away from Christianity for many, many years after being frightened by a little ol’ banty rooster of a man. He was a circuit preacher, all hellfire and brimstone. As an adult, I can appreciate where that style of preaching is coming from and what affect it has on my spirit. But, as a seven-year-old, it literally scared the pee out of me and I ran in the opposite direction. I walked a long journey away from Jesus. I couldn’t be an atheist because I knew God. It was this Jesus guy that gave me fits. I rectified that by becoming Jewish for 27 years. It wasn’t till I was 51 that I became a Christian. And, even then, I was a closet Christian.

I never wanted to be that person. You know, that stereotypical church lady who can’t carry on a conversation without “Praise Jesus” this and “Praise Jesus” that. I’ve since learned you can…and SHOULD…let others know that you are a Christian by the way you act and talk. You can do this without shouting “Hallelujah” in the produce section when the Olathe Sweet Corn arrives. (Although, that actually may be justified!) I took closet Christianity to the extreme though. I was like the Unabomber in my hoodie and shades, being very careful not to expose my true identity. Some of that has fallen away with age. I don’t care as much what people think about me. Mostly it’s a conscious decision.

I had lunch with a dear friend Thursday. We met at Bob Evans…a busy chain restaurant where I can get a good breakfast any time of the day. We hadn’t seen each other for quite some time so there was much catching up to do. We talked about the kids and our new loves. We chatted about our travels and holiday plans. And we talked liberally about God and our faith walk. It was an easy conversation…the kind of comfort you only find with close friends.

After about an hour or so, a woman walked over and placed her hand on my arm. “I overheard you talking about the Lord. Thank you! Isn’t He wonderful?” Yes, yes He is. I appreciated the woman’s gesture. She was a true Believer and wanted to share that moment with me. That was fine, but what meant more to me was this…if SHE, as a Believer, overheard our conversation, then there just might have been someone there who may never have had the opportunity to hear someone praising God over hash browns and scrambled eggs.

Incorporating our love for God into our daily conversations doesn’t have to come in the form of that guy with the sandwich board in front of Taco Bell shouting about the end times. That’s the quickest way to turn people off of any religion, in my humble opinion. I prefer a more organic approach.

Don’t hide your light under a basket. Let it shine! ❤️

“Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:15-16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Brushing Up Against The Past

Fri, 10 Nov 2017 02:30:35 -0600

Today is Veteran’s Day. Every Veteran’s Day, I sent Mr. Virgo a note thanking him for his service. His father was a veteran. His late daughter was a veteran. My dad, my uncle, my first husband, my niece, my late father-in-law…all veterans. Mr. Virgo had military honors at his funeral. I cannot hear taps without feeling a catch in my throat. This time of year brings him closer to the surface.

The other day, one of my dear friends posted a video. In it, she addressed her friends and family. Her nose was red from crying. She sniffled as tears slowly dripped down her cheeks. This is the angelversary week of her husband’s death. It hits her hard every year and even though it’s been eleven years, she relives his final days over and over. It broke my heart. And, of course, it made me think of Mr. Virgo. His was a sudden death. No warning. No long goodbyes. Thankfully, no suffering. I cannot imagine a lingering death. It crushes me.

While I haven’t cried for him in quite some time, that doesn’t mean I never will again. It certainly doesn’t mean I’m through with grief and loss. That’s something that is forever imprinted in the fibers of my being. But I will say this…I don’t let myself “go there” very often. I used to meditate on him. I felt it was necessary to purge myself of as many tears as possible to clean out my heart from this terrible pain. When tears wouldn’t come, I would look at a picture of him in his casket taken at the viewing… white turtleneck, ivory sweater, hair carefully combed, glasses missing from the CPR efforts. I know that sounds absolutely macabre, but somehow I needed that pain to burn itself out or the fire was going to consume me. I knew this without a doubt.

Time and distance has softened Mr. Virgo’s death somehow. It’s like looking at the horizon without my glasses. I see the line…it’s just blurred. If I concentrate, I can bring it back into focus because it’s always there…just beyond where the light spills over. But, something interesting happens when he brushes up against my mind now. When I get close to the memories, I “feel” him instead of “see” him. I mean…literally. While there are some passages in the Bible that allow for a little wiggle room in the idea of “ghosts”, Evangelical Christians believe that we are absent from this place once we die. However, it isn’t far fetched to believe that God may use visions, smells and touch to evoke loving memories of loved ones who have passed.

The other night, Mr. FixIt and I were talking and he said the sweetest thing. He said, “How can we love each other this much?” Immediately, I felt something brush up over my right arm. It surprised me and I sat very still. I looked down at my arm and thought hard. “Do it again.” I whispered in my mind. And there it was…a distinct “touch”…like static electricity on my right forearm. I smiled and looked up at Mr. FixIt. I don’t know how we can love each other this much, but we do.

And…I’ve a feeling someone else approves. ❤️

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

What Have I Done???

Thu, 09 Nov 2017 02:30:08 -0600

OMGosh! I broke my absolute cardinal rule yesterday and…gasp…bought a piece of furniture! I know, I know…you all were with me when I downsized and I absolutely SWORE I would never accumulate “stuff” again. BUT…things are different now. A lot different. I’m not living in a camper, for one thing. For the last three years, my desktop computer has been riding in my camper, under the bed, in an airtight plastic storage tub. There have been numerous times I’ve needed to use it and I have to go out, prop up the bed, haul it out, and put it away when I’m done. Ok, ok…I’m rationalizing. Here’s what happened.

I had to run to town yesterday for an appointment and on my way back to the house, I saw a sign that said “Grand Opening!” It was a consignment store. Who can pass up a good consignment store, right? My truck pulled in, all on its own. I had no choice but to follow. I browsed around and they had some beautiful pieces of furniture. I was first attracted to an old rolltop desk. It was small, and a little beat up. Mr. FixIt has a nice rolltop desk…much nicer than this one. I went on and looked at other things. When I came back around, I asked the clerk about the desk. He said, “You know, if it were me and I had the room, I’d be looking at this one. Much better piece of furniture.” He opened the doors and the drawers and showed me the solid oak construction. The top opens and there’s a place for the monitor, a drawer for the keyboard, and a separate cabinet for the CPU. It is in two pieces to make it easier to transport. The selling point for me was the price. The piece originally sold for $1800. It had been priced for sale in the consignment shop for $500…a decent price for a sold piece of furniture of this quality. However, it was marked down to $250. So, I own a piece of furniture.

That’s two pieces, actually. I also own the jelly cupboard in the kitchen at the farm. Oh, and a recliner. Hmmmmm….I am accumulating. Not excessively, but still. It doesn’t feel as scary to put down some roots as it did in the first few years after Mr. Virgo died. I didn’t want to feel a sense of permanence then. Permanence meant real loss when things headed south. I needed to feel untethered…free. I didn’t have the strength to be needed…even by inanimate objects. As long as it fit in my truck and my camper, I was just fine. And like I said, things are different now. A lot of healing has occurred. Time has passed. A relationship has been established. A home is being created. Two homes, actually.

Mr. FixIt lives exactly twenty-two miles from the farm. He lives on five acres out in the country. He generously shares his space with me. Mi casa es su casa. My house is your house. He is just as comfortable at the farm as I am at his place. And neither of us are giving up our space. We stay a little here, a little there, and then have our own space to retreat to when we need to recharge. It’s the perfect arrangement for the time being. I became very independent after losing Mr. Virgo. While I missed him, certainly…I also came to appreciate the stillness of my own breath. Mr. FixIt and I both like our alone time. Although…truth be told…whenever we are apart, we miss each other terribly. This whole relationship thing is growing on both of us. I suppose, for me, there is still an element of fear deep down inside. That “What if something happened to him” thing. I know I can’t live my life in fear. I won’t. But, there’s something to be said for taking your time in any given situation. After all, there’s no biological time clock ticking here. There’s absolutely nothing to be in a hurry over.

Mr. FixIt and I have been together for a year now. I was thinking about this yesterday. I’m in a really good place now, emotionally. I haven’t had a “bad night” in a really long time. My anxiety level is at an all time low. I’m comfortable in my own skin. I’m happy. I am blessed. And…I am grateful. God has answered so many prayers. I think I’m just going to go along for the ride and enjoy…everything. Life is so sweet! ❤️

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Getting Cozy

Wed, 08 Nov 2017 02:30:14 -0600

I’ve always loved to sit in front of a nice fire with a cup of tea, a comforter, and a stack of magazines. I haven’t had a stove or fireplace to sit in front of since my youngest was a baby. She’s twenty-seven. We are fortunate to have free gas at the farm so we have a couple ventless gas stoves to ward off the chill in the far reaches of the house. But they don’t look like a wood stove and are situated where sitting near them is impossible. I was delighted when Mr. FixIt showed me his house for the first time. This gas stove sits in the family room and is perfect for getting cozy on a cold, wet November afternoon.

And it’s a good thing we’re getting cozy today because…we are about to embark on the first real test of our relationship. Painting a room together. We picked up an array of paint samples at the hardware store the other day and sat down with them yesterday. Or rather…I did while Mr. FixIt finished up something he was working on. I looked through the color swatches, booklets, and magazines and all I felt was frustration. You can ask Daughter #1…I’m horrible at choosing colors. I have it in my head what I want but putting it down as a plan that makes any sense eludes me. I spent an inordinate amount of time cross-stitching a quilt pattern for one of my BFF’s one year for Christmas. I had it framed and when it was done…well, let’s just say it looked lovely in her downstairs guest bathroom. I have a horrible time matching colors. My daughter, however, can pick out tea towels to match the accent wall in her kitchen six months after painting it. I couldn’t tell you if it was green or yellow. (It was the color of red grapes, actually. I mean, what IS that?) Anyway, I finally found a picture that showed what I was looking for just as Mr. FixIt walked into the room.

“How’s it going, my baby?”

Breathe. Act like you know what you’re doing.

“Great! What do you think of this? We can do three walls in this color, one accent wall in this darker shade, and the trim in white!”

I held my breath.

“I like it!”

Really? That was easy. Listen, this may very well actually BE the world’s most perfect man!

We went to town and bought the paint and some supplies we needed. Now comes the challenge of actually painting…together. I’ll keep you apprised how that goes. In the meantime, I sat here in front of this cozy fire with a Rosemary Chicken in the oven, a definite chill in the air, browsing through a stack of my favorite magazines, a nice cup of tea at hand. Honestly, it doesn’t get much better than that!

Mr. Virgo’s Rosemary Chicken

Pick out a nice, fat roasting hen. Remove giblets and set to simmer for gravy, if you’re into that sort of thing. Personally, I think innards go in the trash, NOT in my gravy. Rinse the chicken, inside and out and place in a baking dish. Wipe the chicken with extra virgin olive oil. Season with fresh ground pepper, salt, rustic herbs, garlic and crushed rosemary. Place uncovered in a preheated 350 degree oven and bake until golden brown…about an hour and a half to two hours. The leg should be squeezable and when a knife is stuck in between the thigh and breast, the juices should run clear. That’s it, easy peasy. Mr. Virgo and I had this every Sunday. I made it for Mr. FixIt last night for the first time and it was a big hit. If you need a quicker meal, prepare chicken thighs in the same manner but bake 30-45 minutes. Bon Appetite! ❤️

“May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭119:76‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Sweetness

Sun, 05 Nov 2017 02:30:40 -0600

It seems like yesterday when I traced the delicate shell of my first baby’s ear. She was so tiny at just over five pounds. I was terrified I would break her. That was forty-three years ago. Twenty-seven years ago, I did the same thing with my second daughter. Thirteen years have passed since my first grandchild was in my arms and ten since I cradled her little sister. I thought it would be a long time before I got to hold a little baby again. But, along with Mr. FixIt came a brand new great grandchild and I’m in love all over again!

Oh, this makes me ache for Big and Little…my sweet grand daughters in Colorado. I won’t get to see them till Christmastime. They are growing so fast…and without me. This is the hard part…the only downside…of living in West Virginia. Being so far away from my family. I wish I could tie a rope around Colorado and a rope around West Virginia and pull them closer together. My heart has two homes and sometimes it really hurts when I’m away from those I love. Holding this little sweet thing (who I am SURE is going to call me Gigi!) brings me all kinds of feels.

We had a first yesterday. Our first dinner party together was quite successful. I used that electric pressure cooker again. This time I cooked a pork roast. Mr. Virgo only wanted pork roasts actually ROASTED in the over with EVO, garlic salt and pepper. I seared this roast in a hot skillet then placed it on a bed of sliced onions in the bottom of that pressure cooker, sprinkled it with fresh ground salt, pepper, rustic herbs and garlic and two cups of water. I cooked it on high for 45 minutes then turned it off and let the pressure come down on its own. I opened it and checked the meat and it wasn’t quite tender enough. I cooked it another 45 minutes (it was a big roast) and released the pressure. I let the roast rest in its juices while I made mashed potatoes, fried sauerkraut, green beans, fried apples and hot rolls. When the guests arrived, I tore off chunks of the roast with a fork and served it with the rest of the fixings on the side. It was wonderful and we all had a fun evening filled with fellowship and laughter.

In case you forgot, daylight saving time is over. Turn your clocks back an hour. Have a blessed Sunday, dear ones. ❤️

“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭3:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I Spy With My Little Eye...

Sat, 04 Nov 2017 01:30:20 -0600

Some very observant readers picked up on something in my picture yesterday. My inbox lit up like a Christmas tree! I didn’t answer the questions directly and suggested they come back today to read my post. I love a little mystery. What was it they saw? A ring…a shiny ring…on my left hand!!! squeeeee

Yes, I have a ring! And in all fairness, so does Mr. FixIt. I gave him his first though. So here’s how it went down, what it means, and how we’re feeling about it.

Early in the year, just a couple months after Mr. FixIt and I started seeing each other, we found out there was something wrong with his blood. The initial thoughts were he had leukemia. Suffice it to say, we were both pretty devastated about it. After all, we just “found” each other again after 45 years. It would be terribly tragic to turn around and lose him, too. He had more tests run and they were worse, so we went for a bone marrow biopsy.

We had been talking about a life long commitment but that’s as far as it had gone. Then the blood thing came up. I wanted some way, some outward sign that would show Mr. FixIt that…no matter what the results of this bone marrow biopsy, I was in this for the long haul. I didn’t want him to worry or be afraid. I happened upon a beautiful gentlemen’s ring and in a moment of impulse, I bought it. We were leaving for the hospital when I pulled out the box and told him I wanted him to know…good or bad…I’m not going anywhere. I thought he was going to cry. He knew I was sticking with him, but the gesture was not lost on him. He asked if this meant we were engaged. Smiling, I said, “Halfway.”

One evening we were going out to dinner with friends and I stopped by Mr. FixIt’s to get ready. I was sitting out front when he came home. He said, “Oh! You’re wearing my favorite dress!” I stood up and twirled around. He had a concerned look on his face and I thought. “Uh-oh. Somethings wrong.” He looked at me and said the dress was missing something. Something sparkly. Then he gave me this beautiful ring!

Here’s where it gets complicated. This is the most personal I’ll ever get about our relationship. I don’t want to get married again. At least, not in the conventional way. I’ve had three husbands. That’s two other women’s quotas. It has nothing to do with how much I love Mr. FixIt…or Mr. Virgo, for that matter. When women of a certain age become widows, they qualify for “widow’s benefits”. If they get married, they lose that. Things don’t work in the widow’s favor in this regard. Therefore, a lot of very long engagements take place in my age bracket. And that’s just fine.

From a faith standpoint, it slays me that women are forced to lose income in order to do what God says to do. Someone said to me…”Well, you aren’t trusting God to provide.” To which my answer is…maybe He already provided. Maybe those widow’s benefits ARE his answer to prayer. The Lord takes care of those who help themselves. To me, it would be crazy to throw away money He had provided.

Long engagements are still in vogue. I will be here for the long haul. The rest is a matter of semantics. So, no…there’s no date set. No fanfare. No hoopla. Just love. Lots and lots of love…always and forever. I’m sure I’ll be talking to God about it when I get to Heaven. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long conversation! ❤️

Edit: He still has an abnormality which they have determined is not leukemia. They still don’t know what it is. We have to repeat the tests in six months. I’m sorry. I was writing this late and missed that piece.

“…..may you ever be intoxicated with her love.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭5:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Promise

Fri, 03 Nov 2017 01:30:13 -0600

Three thousand seven hundred sixty-four. That’s how many days came between these two pictures. On the left, the day I married Mr. Virgo. Is it any wonder that handsome man wanted to marry me??? Look at that fresh face, smooth skin, dark hair with just a smattering of gray. Where are the wrinkles around my mouth? Where is all the proof of my sorrow and my joy?

It was a warm spring day stuck smack dab between storms. They shoveled the snow off the balcony so we could get married outside. I had shopped and shopped for the perfect dress, finally finding it on eBay for $45! It was too big so my friend took it in for me. I loved the beads on the silk with hand painted flowers. I thought I looked like a million bucks!

If I had it to do over again, I would have had Mr. Virgo plan the wedding. While it was lovely, it wasn’t until the honeymoon when he reminded me this is what he does for a living. I hadn’t even thought of that. I was just so darned excited to be marrying this great guy, I just barreled through like a bull in a china shop. I asked him why he didn’t say something, and in his sweet, self-deprecating way, he told me, “Sweetheart, it really is all about you. You were having so much fun with it, I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.” I started to ask him what he would have done differently and I know he would have said, “Nothing, baby doll. Not a thing.” Because, that’s the kind of guy he was.

We stood before some seventy-five or so of our family and friends and shared our vows. We promised to always be there. Till death do us part. We had no idea at the time it would only be five years, eleven months, and five days till the unthinkable happened and he was gone.

There is joy on that face on the left. Fresh with the wonder of love and a wedding and music and dancing and cake! Fast forward a decade and look…that face has aged. It has seen indescribable loss. The eyes have shed a river of tears. The hair has a lot of glitter in it. And, there is also joy on that face on the right. Fresh with the wonder of love and music and camping and great barbecue and the handsome man taking my picture….my life companion. The woman on the right is wiser. Older chronologically, but not in her heart. While I lost so much when I lost Mr. Virgo…I ended up gaining in the end. I have a much greater sense of adventure. I’m not so “in the box” as I used to be. I got out from under crushing debt and the weight of long held worldly goods. I figured out what’s really important in life. I’m SO different now than I was then.

I am relieved to be this far down the road of this grief journey. The pictures I have of those weeks, months, years break my heart. I try not to think about the possibilities of having to walk that path again but I’m realistic enough to know it can happen. I know I could survive it again if I had to. But, for now…I think I’ll just hang on and go for the ride. The best is yet to be! I’m becoming a crone! ❤️

“The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭2:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Information Age

Thu, 02 Nov 2017 01:30:48 -0600

Prehistoric Google

Hubby #2 is a pretty smart guy. Even so, when he was in medical school, he had to study really hard for the grades. Once he graduated, he started getting medical journals delivered to the house. JAMA…the Journal of the American Medical Association…was the biggest one. Lancet…the British equivalent. There were issues dealing with pathology, dermatology, cancer. There are a zillion of these magazines that doctors get and they have a name for them. Except for the top two or three, doctors refer to them as “throw aways”.

H2 would clip articles, make files, read, read, and read some more. The making of a doctor is not a pretty thing. Nor is it at all glamorous. Long, long hours with very little sleep. Cram studying in there and a family? Let’s just say, it’s no wonder the divorce rate is high in that field. One particularly rough rotation, I found him curled up on the bed. I sat down beside him and asked what was wrong. He said he couldn’t learn enough to make a difference. It wasn’t long after that when he had an a-ha moment. One of his mentors told him the most important thing he would ever learn in medical school is where to look things up. From then on, things went much more smoothly. And he began throwing away the superfluous stuff. He stopped clipping articles. And he became a knowledgeable and beloved physician.

This was back in the days before the internet. What on earth did we do without smart phones and Google? When I was in the hospital last month, the doctor kept getting texts while we spoke. I can clearly see both sides of this issue. Frustrating as the patient but so incredibly useful as a physician. How much easier life would have been had H2 had a smart phone. I remember when he got his first Palm Pilot. Oy…

The amount of information that comes to us in any given day is mind boggling. It’s easy to become overwhelmed when it’s too much. We shut down. Is the world really worse than it’s ever been? Or are we just bombarded with every story…with every news outlet vying for the ratings by sensationalizing everything? Bad things have always happened. Every single day. We just didn’t have it thrown in our faces 24/7/365. It’s too much. This is why I cut out television. The month after Mr. Virgo died, I got the satellite bill and realized I hadn’t even considered turning the TV on. Not once. I called and cancelled the service. I do have it here at the farm in case of an emergency and I need news. In the fifteen months I’ve lived here, I have watched TV maybe three times. My life is so much more peaceful without the box entertaining me….bombarding me…enticing me…scaring me. I don’t need to see the images in order to feel the horror of an event.

We become what we consume, and that includes information. A chaotic world creates a chaotic life…and, vice versa. ❤️

“The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge, for the ears of the wise seek it out.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭18:15‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

Wed, 01 Nov 2017 01:30:17 -0600

I think the first time I remember really looking at the stars was when Sputnik was orbiting overhead. My dad came and woke me up and said, “Come with me…I want to show you something.” He helped me into my coat and we stepped outside into the cool, night air. I was instantly alert, fully understanding this was unusual and an adventure. I shivered with the thrill of my dad sharing something special with me. That didn’t happen very often.

I remember he held my hand and pointed into the night sky and said, “See the stars?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I want you to watch for a special star…it’s going to move across the sky. Not fast, like a shooting star. But pretty fast.” He pointed straight up above us and said, “There! See it?!”

It took me a few seconds of searching but there it was…a moving star!!! “I see it! I see it!” I shouted. It was, come to find out, the newly launched satellite…Sputnik. The Russians had beat us into space. I was only four years old when this little round ball went around and around our world. It was up there for twenty-one days…then it was done.

I’ve been in love with the night sky ever since that night at Grandma’s farm, holding my dad’s hand in the dark. There was a reverence about it, a sense of awe at the magnitude of it all. One summer after Grandma died, I came to WV for my high school reunion. It must have been in 2012…the August before Mr. Virgo died. I was staying at the farm, even though it was a good hour’s drive after the party let out at midnight. It was a hot August night and when I stepped out of the car into the inky blackness of the night, I looked up and stopped in my tracks. The stars looked like a million diamonds thrown on a black velvet cloth. The distinct stripe of the Milky Way slashing across the sky fascinated me. I laid down on the wheelchair ramp my uncle had built two decades before and placed my hands across my belly and stared for the longest time. Shooting stars streaked across the sky at irregular intervals. Crickets and katydids sang their love songs deep into the night. An owl hooted far up the holler behind the barn. And there…there was a satellite. Then another. And soon, another. The night sky is littered with space junk and communication satellites and spies anymore.

Now I have an app on my iPhone that identifies whatever star or constellation I point it at. It’s a lot of fun, especially when you’re out camping. There are several apps but the one I use is the free version of SkyView. The sky will never again be like that night in 1957 when I first shared an adventure with my dad. ❤️

“who made the great lights— His love endures forever. the sun to govern the day, His love endures forever. the moon and stars to govern the night; His love endures forever.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭136:7-9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Free Refills

Tue, 31 Oct 2017 01:30:43 -0600

Sunday’s sermon was amazing, as usual, and I am always compelled to share my impressions. Pastor Justin Enoch of The Warehouse Church delivers a passionate message every Sunday that really speaks to me. I love this church! It’s contemporary, has a great praise team, and speaks to my spirit week after week. As I was driving to church Sunday, I felt this delightful anticipation that made me smile. I’ve never known a church where people are SO excited to attend. They give you “high fives” as you enter and as you leave. They hold up signs in the parking lot that say “So glad you’re here!” and “You can sit with us!” It is a reaching church and welcomes everyone, no matter where they are in their lives. I love that.

“If you only knew…” This was the title of Sunday’s sermon. How many times have you said…”If I only knew then what I know now…”? Pastor Justin used the example of the oil and gas industry. If he had only known about the development that was going to come, he would have thrown everything he had into the pot and bought all this land for pennies on the dollar that has now created so many “Mailbox Millionaires”. We live our lives this way. The enemy feeds on this. He whispers into our lives and makes us fearful of the future, worried about today, and ashamed of the past. If you take up the spoon and eat what you’re being fed, you’ll soon starve to death. Your spirit will be hungry…for what, it has no clue. So you seek to find something that fills you up. Drugs, alcohol, sex, pornography, shopping…anything to fill up that hole in your spirit.

Pastor Justin goes on to ask how many of us love “free refills”. Hands go up all over the sanctuary. We do! We love to have that bottomless cup of coffee at the diner or the unlimited soup and salad at Olive Garden. We want something for nothing. God offers us unlimited, bottomless cup, free refills for all eternity…refills of love. If you only knew how much He loves you. If you were the only person on this earth, He would still have sacrificed His Son for you. That kind of love is unfathomable. You can’t earn it. You can’t buy it. He gives it freely. And when He does, you cannot help but be changed.

There is an East Indian saying that says, “No matter how far you have gone down the wrong path, turn around.” You have to make choices in your faith walk. If you are struggling with addiction, you can’t get clean and play in the same playground you did before. You have to make changes. God offers his love freely, but we have to show up and suit up and play the game. What if you put that passion and drive and love and attention you put into anything that takes you off the right path and turned it towards God? What if, instead of running to the bottle or the needle or the charge card or the relationship, you ran towards Jesus? Whoa. That blew me away.

Free refills…unconditional love, free for the taking. I’ll fill my cup at the well that serves Living Water and my cup will never be empty. I ran into a gal in Harrisville yesterday. I hadn’t seen her in about a year. She looked at me and said, “You look so rested, so peaceful.” I am…for a number of reasons. My cup is filled every day by a living, loving God. I have healthy, happy children and grandchildren. My brother is stable and happy and living a fulfilling life. I live in the country in the home of my heart. And, I’m in love with a wonderful man. I am wealthy beyond all imagination. I may not have a boatload of money…but I’m richer than I have ever been in my entire life.

Twelve years ago today a tall, silver-haired gentleman with piercing blue eyes and a disarming smile walked into my needlework shop in Glenwood Springs and changed my life forever. I am so grateful for that. I am so grateful I had that kind of unconditional love and that I have it again. I am so grateful for this life! My prayer today is that you are richly blessed in your own lives. ❤️

“Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭4:13-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Art of Aging

Sun, 29 Oct 2017 01:30:15 -0600

I sat in the big leather chair yesterday and gazed around this circle of marvelous, beautiful women I have the honor of calling my friends. We all graduated from high school together…could it really be forty-six years ago??? We’re a diverse group. Some were jocks in high school. Some were wallflowers. Actresses. Musicians. Artists. Dancers. Some were heavy into books. Some were heavy into boys. We were shy…and we weren’t. We were scared…and we weren’t. And look at us now. These raven-haired beauties have glitter on their crowns now…whether we choose to show it or not.

What is age but a number and an attitude? I haven’t climbed all these mountains to ignore the view. I worked hard to get up here. I got knocked down a few times. (Haven’t we all?) But, I kept on climbing because the view is pretty magnificent from this side of sixty. I don’t want to be young. I’ve been young. I don’t want to lose the character lines on my face. I’ve had alabaster skin. I don’t want to be skinny. I’ve worried about my tummy for the very last time. What I haven’t been is sixty-five and seventy-eight and ninety-two.

When Mr. Virgo died, I truly thought my life was over. In a way, it was. THAT life was. But I got a new life…whether I wanted it or not. I built it to suit me. Stripping away to the foundation of your soul takes great courage. My mantra every day was a whimper…”Move forward…move forward…move forward.” From a whimper to a whisper to a shout, joy was my carrot on a stick. Did I ever dream I’d find love again? I did at some point. I can guarantee it took a while to get there. Did I ever dream I’d find a love like THIS again? Oh, h*** no! Is it better than what I had with Mr. Virgo? It’s different…as it should be. I wasn’t looking to “replace” my husband. I was looking to enhance my life with joy, and Mr. FixIt brings that and then some.

I don’t want to be anything but what I am because if I lose focus on sixty-four, I’ll miss it. I want to be present with my breath and my heartbeat…my bones and marrow. I want to feel my muscles move as I strive to continually improve them. I want to taste my food. I want to smell sunshine on fresh sheets. No…I don’t want to be young. I want to be me…at every stage. I want to make aging my canvas…my art…my muse. ❤️

“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭16:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Soup...Nature’s Tranquilizer

Sat, 28 Oct 2017 01:30:02 -0600

It was twenty-seven degrees here at the farm yesterday morning when I sent Mr. FixIt off on a guys trip to North Carolina. This leaves me on my own till Sunday night. I love this man…I truly do. AND, I love my alone time on occasion, so I’m sitting here in the dining room, in front of Grandma’s favorite window, classical music playing softly in the background. It is lovely outside…nearly sixty degrees, sunny, the last of the autumn leaves clinging desperately to the branches like quivering field mice bracing for winter’s chill. It is warm and cozy in this little, old farmhouse and I’m snug as a bug in a rug.

The other day I told you I was making pot roast in the pressure cooker. That night after dinner, I added a can of green beans, a small can of sliced carrots, a can of diced tomatoes, and the leftover potatoes from dinner to the crock pot. When I say “‘crock pot” and “pressure cooker”, I am talking about the same appliance that also is a steamer. When I got rid of most of my belongings and moved into the camper, I didn’t want to be without the conveniences of my kitchen appliances and there wasn’t room for everything. That’s when I ran across this wonderful gizmo that does it all. It’s not very big, but its big enough for two and leftovers aplenty.

I put the soup on and frankly…I forgot all about it till I was heading to bed. I came into the kitchen to lock the back door and noticed it was still cooking. Too hot to put in the fridge, I took the soup…pot and all…out to my truck and set it inside for the night as the temperature got down into the thirties. The next morning, I skimmed off the fat and plugged it back in to have ready for lunch. It was wonderful!

Mr. FixIt was heading into town after lunch to help his ex with something. I sent him off with a container of soup and some crackers for her. Why cater to the needs of an ex-wife? Because…divorce may change a relationship status, but you can still be family. There is Christian loving-kindness to be considered. She is moving this week into her first home of her own. I remember what that was like after my divorce. I wanted her to know she is loved and cared for. It is the same love and kindness extended toward me from my exes’ wives. You can be bitter and angry and full of resentment with a divorce. Or, you can embrace the new member into the family circle. I know that doesn’t work for everyone, but I choose love. I always choose love. ❤️

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

Farmhouse Obsession

Thu, 26 Oct 2017 01:30:48 -0600

In 1982, Hubby #2 and I moved into an old brick bungalow that had been the farmhouse before the area around it was developed. It was drafty and poorly insulated. Three quarters of the basement was bare dirt floor. The brick support pillars down there were crumbling and frankly, it was a pretty scary place. But the rest of the house was charming. Dark hardwood floors and built-in storage, tall ceilings and a sun porch, large windows you could fling wide open to catch the cool evening breeze…it was the closest I had come to living in an actual farmhouse since I’d left home at the tender age of twenty.

Hubby #2 was in medical school when we moved into this rental. Even though it was a farmhouse, it was on a very busy street in east Denver. I had a big garden and flower beds everywhere. We grew as much of our own food as we could and I was very much into Mother Earth News. I made our bread, yogurt, granola and tofu. What I couldn’t grow, I bought at the neighborhood farmer’s market. I canned dozens of jars of green beans, pickles, tomatoes, jams and jellies in my huge country kitchen which looked very similar to this one.

I have a total obsession with these porcelain farmhouse sinks. There’s nothing better for canning than one of these babies. The sink was huge and deep…perfect for washing large quantities of fruits and vegetables. A water bath canner could sit right down into the sink for easy filling. And two dishpans fit perfectly side by side for washing and rinsing dishes. My grandma’s farmhouse doesn’t have one of these sinks but I imagine the first one I ever saw was in West Virginia. I run across them every so often here but haven’t found just the right one. The laminate on the countertops in the farm kitchen is lifting and needs to be replaced. I’m thinking if I ever do that, this kind of sink is going in. The plumbing under the sink is getting pretty fragile so when it goes, it’ll be a perfect opportunity to do a little updating. It is, to be sure, just an earthly tent…but the home of my earthly heart.

Speaking of plumbing, remember when I told you about leaving the bath water running and getting distracted by a phone call? I actually ran the well dry and this terrible, black water started coming out of the faucet. I spoke with one of the locals here and he said this hard water gunks up the insides of the pipes just like cholesterol in your arteries. When I let the well run dry, the “spurting” of air and water essentially roto-rootered the plumbing. Before that, the water smelled and tasted awful. Now, while I don’t think I’d drink a glass of it, I can stand to brush my teeth with it…but only after I tested the water. It’s hard, and slightly alkaline, but there’s no lead, pesticides, or bacteria. It’s really amazing the difference in the quality, before and after.

The pot roast from yesterday was wonderful and is in a crockpot for vegetable soup today. It’s cold and rainy and we were expecting our first hard freeze last night. It’s time to get out the jeans and sweaters and boots and jackets. The only thing missing is a fireplace but this old house is all wood and I wouldn’t dare have one. We did change out the stove in the bathroom yesterday with one that has a thermostat. Now it shuts off and on rather than being way too hot or freezing with the manual shutoff.

The fire in Parkersburg is dying down but still has smoldering hotspots. More information is being released about the owners and what they were doing in there. And, more importantly, what they WEREN’T doing…like correcting past environmental and safety violations. The owner, who has at least four other of these warehouses in the area packed with God knows what, is conveniently out of the country at the moment. Fines had been levied against them for these violations to the tune of $80,000…$60,000 of which remains unpaid. They’re still evaluating the air quality results. The first class action lawsuit was filed Monday. And the circus begins. I pray for the first responders and the folks who live nearby and in the path of the smoke cloud, which shifted continually with the direction of the wind. I pray this gets sorted out quickly. I hear Erin Brokovich has been alerted. I hope that helps. ❤️

“For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:1-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Comfort Food

Wed, 25 Oct 2017 01:30:26 -0600

Today’s the day…time for the first “comfort food” meal of fall. Mr. FixIt and I have been working at our respective homes a lot the last week or so and haven’t had a day at home for a while. Today is trash day. It’s “install the new bathroom heater because we bought one without a thermostat, oh my gosh, what were we thinking” day. It’s a day to reconnect and play cards and visit. Today is “Pot Roast Day”. I’m pretty sure it’s a national holiday.

I love pot roast. I love a good bone-in pot roast but haven’t seen one of them in a grocery store for years. Mr. Virgo always said the flavor of meat comes from the bone, but everything seems to be boneless anymore. My grandma used to can beef. On Sundays, she’d go get a couple quarts of canned beef, drain it, dredge the chunks of tender meat in seasoned flour and fry it in butter. Makes my swoon to think of it. You could cut it with a knife and it literally melted in your mouth. A nice brown gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and buttered bread made the BEST Sunday supper ever!

It’s cold today. It was supposed to get down to 32 last night with a high today of only 47. It rained like crazy yesterday and there was graupel associated with it. Graupel occurs when supercooled water droplets freeze onto snowflakes. It looks like tiny hail, but it’s soft. It’s common in Colorado but this is the first time I’ve seen it here in West Virginia. We’ll have snow before we know it. I’m getting there, but I’m not ready yet. The mower and the summer garden tools have been put away and the porches are cleared off. Progress is being made!

I heard a great horned owl last night. Can Halloween be far behind? Have a happy Wednesday, dear ones! ❤️

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

Turning Back Time

Mon, 23 Oct 2017 01:30:31 -0600

Mr. FixIt and I go to church every Sunday. It has become the center of our relationship and sets the tone for the rest of the week. It helps us keep our focus on God first. This is the first time in my life that I can go to church with my love every single week. I love it!

We went to the noon service yesterday and decided to drive over in Ohio to a flea market we’ve had our eye on. Really, the only thing there I felt was worth going for was a really awesome antique store. They had a lot of beautiful pieces of furniture at very reasonable prices. But the one thing that really caught my eye was the Soapbox Derby racer. It was obviously sponsored by someone out of Zanesville…a rather large town east of Columbus on I-70. It brought back such fond memories.

I have some cousins on my dad’s side of the family through my dad’s youngest brother. When I was growing up, my mom used to take us to their house several times a week. My cousins were older than me so we weren’t terribly close. But I adored my aunt. She was always fifty years ahead of her time. She did great projects with her kids. One year they actually built canoes and studied the currents in the Ohio River. They built a putt-putt golf course in their yard. They went scuba diving and water skiing. I was enthralled with all of them. They were larger than life. I remember feeling honored when I got their hand-me-downs.

One year, the passion-du-jour was the Soapbox Derby. In typical fashion, my aunt sat down with the kids and researched and pored over ever bit of engineering information they could get their hands on. And they meticulously built the perfect racer. And, of course, my cousin won. They always won everything they put their minds to. One year, there was a treasure hunt. The grand prize was a Ford Pinto. They won. They were awesome.

When I saw that racer in the antique store, it made me think of other toys and things of my childhood. I went on my Pinterest page and created a board called “Childhood Memories” and…holy cats! So many cool pics popped up. Things I had totally forgotten about, like those colorful pens you could buy as souvenirs with a scene in a water-filled tube. There would be something like a boat or an airplane that would move through the water when you tilted the pen. I found a TV that was just like our first one. There was our phone, and my skate key, and colored toilet paper and the black and white sign-off screen when the station went off the air at night.

If you’re interested, you can check out my Pinterest boards at https://pin.it/h0vDp2x I have all kinds of boards on there. Pinterest is addictive, though…quite a time suck if you let it. I have to limit myself or I could lose hours in there!

I’m having coffee with some of my high school friends today…one of which I haven’t seen in nearly fifty years. Talk about bringing back childhood memories! I hope you have a great start to your week! ❤️

“And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets.” ‭‭Zechariah‬ ‭8:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

#childhood, #memories, #soapboxderby

I Am Not Alone

Thu, 19 Oct 2017 01:30:16 -0600

Of all the comments I get on my blog posts, by far the most common is “It’s good to know I’m not alone.” When Mr. Virgo died, I felt like the only person on the planet. No one could possibly understand what I was feeling. I didn’t know how to find resources to help me feel better. I didn’t know who to turn to. I tried reading grief books but I couldn’t read. I couldn’t get beyond a sentence or two before my mind exploded. My family and friends were wonderful…don’t get me wrong. But I was sure even they couldn’t really get it because they hadn’t walked this particular path.

I reached out through this page as much for me as I did for you. Maybe more so. And we both found out we’re not alone in this. That was HUGE for me. Knowing others were having the same or similar experiences gave me courage.

I scroll through my files of pictures often for inspiration. Sometimes a particular photo will jump out at me and that’s the one I go with for my next post. Last night, it was this one. Mr. Virgo…big smile, twinkling eyes, and that shock of silver hair…in the afternoon sunshine at Rocky Mountain National Park on a day much like today. We had gone for a drive to view the elk and the bright yellow gold of the aspen leaves quaking in the breeze. It was a perfect day. As I scrolled through the photos and saw this one, two things happened. My heart squeezed for a few seconds. And I smiled. The smile is good. The squeeze in my heart still takes my breath away because it takes me by surprise.

I had a beautiful day yesterday. It was a day much like the one in this picture. The sky was a brilliant cerulean blue. The temperature was reasonable in the high sixties, low seventies. I was with the man that I love. We had a really busy and full day winterizing another of the four campers. Lunch out. A granddaughter’s softball game. A trip to the Piggly Wiggly. A day. Just a normal day in a life. Some would say it was nothing special. I beg to differ…it was.

Why was yesterday special? Because I get to love again. I get to look in another human being’s beautiful eyes and see love in return. Because I get to love…a lot. I get to love both of my ex-husbands and that great cowboy I dated for awhile. I get to love Mr. Virgo. And…I get to love Mr. FixIt. That is so special. I can still love all of them because I stretched my heart and made room

“I am not alone” has taken on a new meaning now. I’ll never take that for granted. ❤️

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

A Bird's Eye View

Wed, 18 Oct 2017 01:30:29 -0600

Have you ever gone on Google Earth and looked at the places you know? I remember one winter day before Mr. Virgo died. I was missing home…the dense, green woods and dusky purple mountains of West Virginia. Google Earth was still relatively new and they had just added the “street view” feature. I plugged in the address for Grandma’s farm, clicked on the little man icon, and…viola! I was “standing” in front of the farmhouse! I was SO excited! I quickly moved the map so I could “drive” down the two-lane blacktop the three miles, taking in every turn, house, and tree. It was mesmerizing. I could “go home” anytime I wanted to! I have “traveled” to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower, London to ogle Big Ben, Rome to see the ancient ruins…all from the comfort of the easy chair in my living room.

The other night, Mr. FixIt was doing a little virtual traveling and he stumbled upon this. TOW-Wanda! MY camper…sitting right where I park her in the summer! I know approximately when this was. This is mostly uber cool…and, a little bit spooky in a Big-Brother-is-watching-you sort of way. It’s a good thing there was no nude sunbathing going on…for a vast number of reasons! ?

This satellite photo was taken about fifteen months after Mr. Virgo died. I had been full-timing in my camper for about seven months at this point. I was interviewed yesterday for another episode of Janine Pettit’s Girl Camper podcast. This time we talked about full-timing…dream vs. reality. I’ll post a link when it goes live.

Living on the farm has been such a treat that I’ve hardly thought about whether I miss all that time I spent on the road. The answer is yes…and no. Could I do that again? Yes! Would I? Maybe. I’m a lot more awake and aware now than I was back then. Grief brain may have clouded my judgement sometimes. But I’ve never regretted having that time alone out in the wilderness and backroads. I was so free and life was pared down to the bare essentials. There’s something to be said for simplicity. Janine asked me if I ever found myself lonely and I’m not sure I properly answered. I’m a people person. I’m gregarious and thrive in a place where I can have regular contact with people I know and love…friends and family that love me for who I am and I can let my hair down. I think that was the driving force behind allowing the Siren Song of the farm to lure me into planting some roots…at least for a while. And now…I have Mr. FixIt. We both love to travel and we never stay put for too long. But I’m looking forward to some nesting this winter. That’s the goodness of fall…it invites us to put another log on the fire, brew a nice cup of tea, and read a good book. The campers are put away for the season and I’m ready to be a homebody for a while. ❤️

“By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭24:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Getting Bolder: Stories, Not Stuff

Tue, 17 Oct 2017 01:30:09 -0600

Today’s post is a link to my most recent installment of “Getting Bolder” on the Sisters on the Fly blog. ❤️

www.sistersonthefly.com/getting-b…

“Since we have such a hope, we are very bold,” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Magic Hands

Thu, 12 Oct 2017 01:30:38 -0600

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I have always been prompt at getting my mammogram done every single year. I always had it at the same place for consistency. Still, even though it always niggled in the back of my mind that time was slipping by, I went a full three years without one. The fact that I am fairly diligent in doing breast self examination regularly was at least some consolation. But not all lumps and bumps can be felt. An exam and getting the tatas compressed is your best advantage for early detection of breast cancer.

I had my mammogram done September 27th, a Saturday. I was up before dawn to go get this thing done. I was in and out relatively quickly. The technologist was friendly, knowledgeable, and the entire experience left me feeling confident in the Women’s Center at Camden Clark Memorial Hospital in Parkersburg. I left the appointment and met my girlfriends for coffee and it became a day like any other day.

The following Wednesday, I went camping for a week and when I returned, there was a message on my home phone from the doctor’s office. Mr. FixIt and I looked at each other and I saw the slightest flicker of fear in his eyes.

“I’m sure it’s fine, sweetheart. I’m a girl…girls are complicated. We’ve got all these parts we have to maintain. It happens all the time.” I said in my most reassuring voice. But he wasn’t buying it. And neither was I. I’d never been called back before. And I’d never had an ultrasound of my breast.

My doctor’s office made an appointment for me for the following Tuesday…a whole week away. As much as I tried not to think about what it could mean, it was fruitless. I’ve worked in medicine almost my entire working life. I was married to a doctor who was the director of hospice. I was an x-ray tech. I know what I know. I ran through the risk factors. I used to drink more than I should have when I was going through a particularly difficult marriage/divorce but when the divorce was over, so was the drinking. I am not at my ideal weight and I don’t exercise as much as I should. The king sized plus for me is absolutely zero family history of breast cancer. By the time the appointment came around, I was feeling pretty confident this wasn’t cancer.

Tuesday finally came. The technician who came out to get me was the same gal who did the first mammo. That was comforting…and good, in that her technique would be the same for comparison’s sake. She told me there were two places in the breast that caused them concern and she pointed them out to me. She proceeded to do another mammogram. This one used a compression paddle on the machine that squeezed a small, three inch circle…really squeezed. I won’t lie…it stung. No problem holding my breath for that one! When she had the top down views done, she changed the paddle to a five inch circle for the side views. Again, the compression took my breath away, but I wanted good compression so the radiologist could see what he/she was looking for. It was soon done and I was ushered to a waiting room. Once the radiologist said no more views were needed, I was taken to the ultrasound room.

I’ve had ultrasounds many times, but never of my breast. They warm the gel! How nice! I’m laying there with my arm over my head and my boob hanging out in front of someone who was born the year I graduated from high school but, by golly, that gel was warm! The tech turned the screen slightly toward me and I saw what I had seen on the mammogram, only instead of being an oval, clearly encapsulated thing that looked much like a grape…I saw a black hole. My heart sank for a moment. Then my medical expertise came back and I thought about the physics of ultrasound. I soon reasoned what I was looking at was a fluid filled cyst and the vast majority of those are benign. Breathe.

The tech moved to the other spot. This was more worrisome. It was calcification within some very dense breast tissue. I have what used to be called fibrocystic breast disease till they dropped the disease part, because…it isn’t one. It’s extremely common. The last time I had a mammogram, my doctor was musing to herself. “Hmmmm, I wonder why your left breast is so much denser than the right?” “Easy,” I said. “I’ve always been with right handed men” I think she peed a little. Anyway, I digress. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of what I was seeing in this exam area so I just laid back and let my mind wander. What was my gut saying? “This is ok. Don’t worry.”

I was wandering through the mall yesterday, contemplating a pair of shoes, when the doctor’s office called. She said the doctor felt the findings were benign. They wanted to know if there was a family history of breast cancer. Since there is not, the recommendation is to repeat it in six months and if there are no changes, resume the yearly schedule. I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath as I sat down on one of the chairs in the shoe department. I thanked her and hung up. Relief spread over me and I immediately texted Mr. FixIt and my Prayer Warriors.

One out of eight women get breast cancer. Unlike Julia Louise Dreyfus…today it was not me. Get your mammograms, girls. Save the tatas! ❤️

“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Free Spirit

Wed, 11 Oct 2017 01:30:38 -0600

Much of my life was spent trying to conform…to not be too loud, too big, too much. To fit into the mold of who I (and others whose opinions I valued over my own) thought I should be. I was a doctor’s wife. I was supposed to fit in, entertain, volunteer. I converted to Judaism. I smiled, a lot. I had a perky voice. I did the best I could. And still, things unraveled, my marriage fell apart, and it darned near killed me.

It took a long time, and a lot of therapy, to find my voice. So many times women hang their identity on a hook by the front door and become who they need to be…who they’re expected to be. I have two beautiful daughters who are wonderful adults. Honestly, I don’t know how they survived me because I was a hot mess back in the day.

Mr. Virgo was the first man to really “get” me. He was patient and listened intently and fiercely supported me. He helped me see, and really FEEL, my value. When he died suddenly, my world and my self-confidence was rocked. When I was alone on my grief journey in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado in the first few months after he died, I really understood for the first time that it’s up to me to be happy. If we search for happiness from external things, we will always be disappointed.

I had a Mr. Virgo-sized hole in my heart and a God-sized hole in my life. I couldn’t bring Mr. Virgo back, but I could…and DID…reach out to God to fill me up with a peace only He could give. My go-to scripture became “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Over and over, through long anxiety-riddled nights, I repeated it till I believed it…till I felt it in my bones. And magically, God filled in the empty, hurting places with a golden love-light like none I had ever known.

I was telling someone yesterday…I loved Mr. Virgo with the white-hot heat of the sun. But I still never felt whole till I loved GOD with the white-hot heat of HIS Son. My light shines from within. I carry myself differently. I’m happy and content with myself and my life. And now? Now I have Mr. FixIt. I’m so glad he came into my life after I was broken open. I don’t know that we would have appreciated each other if this would have happened at any other time in our lives.

God’s timing is so perfect. ❤️

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭12:6-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Little R&R

Mon, 09 Oct 2017 01:30:27 -0600

We awoke to the sound of rain gently falling on the tin roof yesterday. What a welcome sound. Something else grabbed my attention. It was stuffy and still in the bedroom. I picked up my phone to check the temperature. No wifi. The power was out so the fan was off. This happens frequently here at the farm. I keep thinking I’ll get a generator but haven’t yet.

Old Mama Kitty curled up at my feet while I sat on the porch, watching the rain. Every time we have this moment, I wonder how much longer we’ll have her. She’s about twenty-four years old now. I love this sweet little kitty.

The persistent rain made me sleepy and I couldn’t get motivated to do much. I did put about half the stuff away in the kitchen that I had brought in from TOW-Wanda. The rest of the day was literally spent doing as little as possible. Sometimes you just need a day like that. Mr. FixIt is like the Energizer bunny. He never stops. I like to do a lot of stuff but when I need down time, I NEED down time. I sent him off to deliver a chair to his granddaughter and go bowling and I spent the afternoon/evening laying low. Just what the doctor ordered!

The only downside of having a lay low, shut in kind of day was not going to church. The only upside to that is the Warehouse Church where we attend goes live on their Facebook page every Sunday night at 7:00 so if I can’t go for some reason, I can watch the sermon from home.

Last night, Pastor Justin spoke on getting past your past. I dragged my past behind me like a sack of rotting garbage for years. I played and replayed every mistake, every misstep, every wrongdoing I ever did and berated myself for being a bad daughter, sister, wife, mother. It turns out, those were all lies…whispered into my life by the enemy. He has no power over the future, but man…does he know how to play the past. There are ways you can use the past. Learning from your mistakes and moving forward, letting the past “push” you into the person God has always intended you to be…THAT’S the only useful thing the past can give you. God uses those mistakes you made in the past to allow you to minister to others, to speak life over them, to demonstrate that you do not have to let your past define who you are. You can get past it. Powerful message. So, I got my lay low day, I had a nap under the sounds of a gentle rain on a tin roof, AND I heard a great message from God. What’s not to love about that? ❤️

“Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” ‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3:13-14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

From Long Horns to Long Rifles

Sun, 08 Oct 2017 01:30:01 -0600

It’s going to rain today…thank God. We haven’t had measurable precipitation in a month and its dreadfully dry. Since yesterday was such a gorgeous day, chores were put on the back burner yet again and we went gallivanting all over three counties. Our first stop was to finally get some pictures of these magnificent long horned cattle. Seems there’s a wealthy oil man in our county who likes them so he bought himself some. I believe these are a cross between longhorn and the watusi. I must say, you do a double take when you drive down a two-lane blacktop in West Virginia and come across these big boys! I had an uncle who had white-faced cattle simply because he liked looking at them through the window when he ate breakfast…so, I get it.

The next stop was Elizabeth’s Pioneer Day. That’s singular…as in, blink and you miss it. We ran into cousins. Did I tell you I love small town life? We missed the car show but we visited the town’s museum where my cousin regaled me with more juicy family history that I was, as yet, unaware of. I love hanging with them…not only are they fun, but they’re educational.

The last stop was really awesome. As we rounded a curve to head back to the farm, there was a Civil War reenactment camp set up in a field. Mr. FixIt turned to me and smiled. Blog fodder! We turned in and introduced ourselves and an hour later we were making ourselves at home, telling stories and laughing around the campfire. Mr. Virgo was a huge Civil War buff so I’ve watched dozens of documentaries on the subject. I felt a softness around me as the sun hung low over what will today become a battlefield. That part I have no interest in seeing. But the people? I wanted to know who they were, how long they’ve done this, how often, and why? Turns out, they’re Civil War buffs, just like Mr. Virgo. One couple have been doing reenactments for 29 years. They were from Ohio and West Virginia. Some represented the Union, others the Confederacy. I didn’t ask why. It didn’t matter.

They were quick to share their knowledge. They took great pride in their clothing and uniforms and weapons…and knowledge. They explained the flags and the units and the differences in the tents. They cooked over an open fire, just as I did last weekend. They slept on rope beds and bedrolls the last two nights. They had young men and a young boy with them, teaching them the old ways. It was absolutely fascinating. And, instead of scrawling a rural address with a hand sharpened pencil on a page from a bible to be tucked away, hoping to reconnect when the battle was over…we became friends on Facebook. And, we were instantly brought back to 2017.

I love the connections I make doing what I do. I was thrilled when I surpassed 6,000 readers over the weekend. I’m honored and humbled to write stories for you every day. Thank you so much for being here. ❤️

“a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Losing Your Sense of Direction

Fri, 06 Oct 2017 01:30:53 -0600

There’s no quicker way to lose your inner compass than through the experience of grief. God built us to numb down so we don’t experience the loss in one gulp. I remember the first year. I was so numb from the neck up. I didn’t fully grasp what had happened to my world until the second year. THAT was the year of pain for me because I “woke up” and he was still gone. I didn’t know where to turn. I literally didn’t know which end was up. I couldn’t make intelligent choices. I couldn’t see further than today…maybe even this hour. It was terribly disconcerting to me to feel so out of control. It was terribly comforting to me when you all started writing back with things like “Yes! That’s me!” and “OMGosh! You’re in my head! How did you know?”

Losing your inner compass is normal in grief. Losing your sense of direction doesn’t just come with the loss of a loved one though. It can come with anything that shocks our sensibilities. And I can’t think of anything more shocking than the events of the last month. While I was out galavanting around, camping here and there, appearing at public events, being interviewed while flyfishing, sitting around the campfire with friends…events were taking place that were shattering our world and I was largely disconnected save for the occasional notification on my phone when I was in cell range.

Disclaimer: I’m not here to discuss politics. There are many, many sites where that is the theme. This is a safe place where we discuss grief and the things that effect it. That being said…I would be remiss if I sail along singing Kumbaya and not address the horrifying events that have hit us over and over and over the last few weeks.

Devastating hurricanes. Deadly earthquakes. Horrific mass murders. Huge breaches of electronic security. Every week…every day…it’s something. Another thing…another horror. It’s hard to feel safe in times like this when you aren’t grieving. Add the insecurity and emotional turmoil of loss to the mix and it’s so easy to lose your way…to lose direction…to lose hope.

Yes, there are political avenues that can and…in my humble opinion…should be implemented to curb events that can be curbed. I am an enigma. I am a diehard liberal Christian and Democrat with a gun. I believe in my right to carry and protect myself, my property, and my loved ones. If I need to hunt to eat, I need a weapon to do so. What I don’t need is an assault rifle, let alone forty-three of them, and I certainly don’t need one that shoots automatically. I might need a couple hundred rounds of ammo. I don’t need ten thousand. I might need some fertilizer for my garden. I don’t need enough to blow up a building. I need to protect my little corner of the world from nefarious interlopers. I’m fully aware not everyone agrees on these issues and I’m not here to debate politics or gun control or any “third rail” issue. This is a faith-based blog so I’m going to approach this from my own personal faith-based perspective.

I usually drive in silence. It’s my think time. But, occasionally I listen to a book on tape or a talk given by someone on a subject I am interested in. As events unfolded over the last month, I found myself getting upset and angry…a perfectly normal reaction to such chaos. Since losing Mr. Virgo, I’ve found it helpful to retreat within myself and become quiet and introspective in order to process additional loss. Now that I have Mr. FixIt in my life, I don’t have long stretches of time to silently contemplate my feelings, process them, and retrieve my bearings. I felt my fear grow and my frustration build to the point of lashing out at him when he did nothing but be kind and love me. I needed to fix that before it became a problem.

God always brings me what I need to walk through this path. Remember me telling you that we have to walk through fire in this life, but God throws gems down in the flames? We may not recognize the meaning of a particular gem, but we tuck it away because somewhere down the line, we’ll understand. When I was in Colorado, I went to a used book store looking for books on tape for the long drives I take traveling with TOW-Wanda. This time I found several presentations by such notables as Brené Brown, Pema Chodrin, and Joyce Meyers. I tucked them in the truck but didn’t listen to them on the trip home because Mr. FixIt was with me.

Last week I traveled up to Beaver Creek State Park and found the four hour block of time to listen to Pema Chodrin’s “Don’t Bite the Hook: Finding Freedom from Anger, Resentment, and Other Destructive Emotions”. Her basic premise boils down to finding compassion for the perpetrator. She spends the better part of three and a half hours explaining how to fight the addiction of anger and replace it with patience and compassion. Anger sits in the pit of our stomach. It’s uncomfortable and we lash out to release those pent up feelings. But, what if we allow ourselves to sit with that discomfort, recognize it as a temporary feeling, look at the person pissing us off and feel compassion? If that’s too hard, then at least just say…“OK, this person is pissing me off. I’m not biting that hook.” There is a difference between suppressing anger and diffusing it. Suppression will just place it in a pressure cooker and it becomes self-destructive. Diffusing it dissipates the energy and converts it into something self-soothing.

How does this relate to the current events in the world? Well, environmentally, these storms are getting more powerful, more frequent, and more destructive. As an environmentalist, one can get angry at politicians who refuse to believe in climate change. As one who believes this is a predictable cycle of nature, one can get angry at the “tree huggers” for leading the charge with “the sky is falling!” Earthquakes? Environmentalists are angry with the oil and gas industry for fracking and causing instability beneath the earths crust. Others are angry at such rhetoric saying the earth’s crust moves…deal with it. Mass shootings? The NRA will give you their guns when you pry them out of their cold, dead fingers as Charlton Heston so eloquently put it. Gun control advocates are angry that this just keeps happening over and over and over and nothing ever changes.

The common denominator in all of this is anger. Righteous indignation. Me against them. No one ever resolves conflict with increased conflict. The divisive nature prevalent in today’s world does nothing to diffuse anger. As a matter of fact, it seems its only point is to produce more anger and conflict. This is the work of the enemy. This is where my faith comes in. This battle has been fought for centuries and my personal belief is…the good guy wins in the end. My personal belief is…that which lives within me is more powerful than that which lives in the world. Lashing out at Mr. FixIt because I’m harboring anger over world events is counterproductive. So, how do I resolve that inner conflict? Through compassion.

How do we live out the compassion of Christ in such a dark time in this world? Turning to the Master Teacher, we can cry out for Him to teach us compassion. We can read about the ways Christ showed compassion to others…even his enemies. He touched those who were sick. Even the outcast…the untouchables with leprosy. He sought them out and ministered to them and healed them with just a touch. Race, religion, social or economic status…nothing kept Christ from touching the lives of others with love and tenderness. We can read about Jesus’ tears for the fallen. How He wept for those who refused to hear His teachings. How he asked His Heavenly Father to forgive those who crucified Him for they knew not what they were doing. That in and of itself is the ultimate display of compassion. The motivation behind all of Christ’s teachings throughout the New Testament is love and compassion.

So, how do you show compassion for someone who stands in a hotel room on the 32nd floor of a busy hotel and calmly executes 59 innocent people, wounds nearly 500, and changes the lives of thousand more…forever? For me, it comes from the realization that one does not do something like that unless they are not in their right mind. There is such evil in the world. Satan whispers into the lives and hearts of vulnerable people and leads them to do unimaginable, unspeakable things. My response is to pour out more love…to try to tip the scales of the world toward goodness and light. Not with a Pollyannaesque naïveté, but with the pure, genuine love and compassion expemplified by Jesus.

It’s a scary world. I saw Mr. FixIt’s first little greatgrandchild this week. I held this tiny, perfect little human in my hands and prayed hard that God would keep her safe in this great big place. It hits hard when a new life is placed in your hands. In the end, the left wing and the right wing belong to the same bird. We really are in this together. There is one race…the human race…and if we want to keep going, we are going to have to find a way to come together, to get along.

Ok, we went to church there…but, in my humble opinion…this world needs more light. For me, it is through Christ, who strengthens me. For others, it may be different. But by whatever means available, the answer to everything is love and compassion. ❤️

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” ‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:12-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Grandma's Spoon

Thu, 28 Sep 2017 01:30:53 -0600

Some time after Grandma died, I was visiting the farm. I was cooking and rummaged around in the utensil drawer for a wooden spoon to stir something with. I grew up using wooden spoons and have owned many over the course of my life. I love them. I love the feel of the wood in my hand. I love the way they gently rub the bottom of the pan as you stir. I’ve learned how to gauge the proper thickness of a sauce or gravy by how the liquid coats the spoon. Placed across the top of a pan, a wooden spoon will keep pasta or potatoes from boiling over. Drape a wet dishcloth over the end and you can scrub the inside of a jar or bottle. They’re very handy.

When I looked in the drawer in Grandma’s kitchen, there was a packet in the back wrapped in a flour sack dishcloth. Curious, I opened it up to find treasures. Grandma’s paring knife, potato peeler, and favorite wooden spoon had been wrapped and carefully put away. The paring knife was so thin and the blade was curved in an unnatural shape from the many times it had been run over a whetstone. The potato peeler showed wear from years and years of use. Potatoes were a staple in that house for at least two meals a day. But, it was the wooden spoon that got me. Stained red from a lifetime of making blackcap jelly, I held it in my hands as if it were fragile crystal. The end is worn flat from all the years of stirring back and forth, back and forth…making sure the sugar and pectin dissolved and the mixture didn’t scorch on the bottom of the pan. I could still see my grandma’s arthritic finger run over the jelly coating on the back of her wooden spoon. She pushed it along to see if it had reached the jell stage. Then she popped her finger in her mouth, licked it clean, and gave me a wink as she wiped her hand on her ever present calico apron over her ever present belted house dress with the hankie in the pocket. I never, ever saw her wear pants. Always a dress, with stockings, and sturdy black lace-up shoes with a sensible heel. My breath caught with the memory. I missed her so. I miss her still.

My aunt noticed my reverie and asked if I’d like to keep the spoon. I was so touched…and thrilled. It occupied a place of honor for several years on the windowsill of my Colorado kitchen. It got tucked away when I downsized and sold my house. It made its way back to that same farmhouse kitchen in West Virginia when I finally settled back here. I remember unpacking that box of special kitchen items, taking extra care that the spoon didn’t get thrown away with the packing materials.

The spoon now hangs on a pegboard over the kitchen sink. I see it every time I wash dishes and I think of my grandma and how hard she worked standing in that very spot. It’s like that wink comes all the way from heaven and I know she smiles that I am here. ❤️

“She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:14-15‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Two-Lane Blacktop

Wed, 27 Sep 2017 01:30:54 -0600

Yesterday was errand day. Up at dawn, I ran through my list of very important things that needed to be done for the camping trip I’m leaving on today. And, not surprisingly, there were a couple of things I forgot. Mr. FixIt to the rescue! Yet another of the many wonderful advantages of dating this good man! He stopped on his way to my place and picked my items up at the market.

Driving back home on the two-lane blacktop, I always let my mind run through the points of note along the route. There’s the State Police barracks where I took (and failed) my first driving exam. (Not my fault, mind you…there was a hole in the muffler.) There’s the county line where I got carsick when I was seven. (I have no idea why that sticks with me, but it does.) There’s the last bridge of its kind between town and the farm. (It’s a lot like the old bridge that used to be where you turn onto the country lane to drive the last few miles to the house.) There’s the old country store where we stopped for ice cream on Sunday afternoons on our way back to town. There’s the turn where I had my wreck in February. My mind takes me through every turn and hill, reliving days long gone.

One of my favorite turns brings me to a straight stretch that passes the old Nutter Farm. There’s a family cemetery on the hill across the road. Every time I drive through that stretch, I get the strangest feeling. It’s akin to the feeling you get when someone hugs you. I didn’t get to meet the particular set of great-grandparents that are buried there, but somehow I feel them when I drive by. It’s a little eerie, but comforting at the same time. My great-grandfather died in his early 30’s of a ruptured appendix and left my great-grandmother with four little boys to raise. Charlie and Sabina. I have always loved her name. Folks called her “Binie”, with a long “i”. I never knew her proper name till after my last child was born or I might have named her Sabina Rose.

I know every turn, every pothole, every hill on that road. It stretches for miles all the way back as far as I can remember. I really get John Denver’s lyrics. “Country Roads, take me home to the place I belong…West Virginia!” I love coming home when I’ve been gone a while. When you’re there every day, you don’t notice how the house smells. But when you return from a long trip, it’s truly like stepping back in time to my childhood. It smells like old wood…damp and rich. It smells like old books and worn leather…slightly stale, dusty, and tired. It smells like iron skillets and well water. But it smells like family. It smells like home. I bought a scented candle when I first moved in last year and was decidedly dismayed when all you could smell when you walked in the back door was cinnamon apples. I stopped burning it right away and was ever so relieved when the familiar aromas returned a week or two later.

I count every day here as a blessing…a gift that God has brought me. This place almost seems like my reward for having lost my sweet husband. As though God said, “You’ve suffered enough. Let the memories in these walls comfort you for a time.” I know it’s not forever…one day the house will pass from one to another and I’ll need to move on. Or, more likely, there will be that point in my life when I choose to live elsewhere. But for now…for this brief time…I will live and love and laugh in the home of my heart. And I’ll remember every nook and cranny, every squeak in the floor, every line in the worn linoleum. I’ll remember every bend in the road. ❤️

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭32:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Tethered to God

Mon, 25 Sep 2017 01:55:16 -0600

A ship that slips its moorings is quickly swept to sea. At the mercy of the wind and the waves, it may sink to the briny depths, never to be seen again. Our relationship with God is much the same way. If we remain tethered to Him, we can weather any storm, but…let go and all bets are off. HE never lets go of us. It is always the other way around.

Mr. FixIt and I have been attending the 5:00pm service at our church. It gives us all day on Sunday to enjoy the farm, then head to town about 4:00. He bowls on Sundays at 7:00 so it works out to be a good time for us. Last night’s sermon was on the detours life gives us. There are two types of detours. The kind we take ourselves on when we become untethered from God and the kind God takes us on.

We are so egocentric, we think God is punishing us if we can see what He intends to give us, but he takes us the long way around instead. These trials weren’t necessarily orchestrated by God. He has a much bigger world view than we do. His grand view takes us through these trials so that we CAN have the reward He has in mind for us…even if it’s not delivered in this world. Our job is to hang on and remain tethered to Him. He is our anchor.

We all have trials in this world. God uses those trials. Not as punishment. But as a way to hone us into the person He intends us to be. Suffering produces perseverance. Perseverance, character. And character, hope.

I have a speaking engagement this evening at a local church. I’m really looking forward to that and always pray God brings me every opportunity to praise Him and share with others how He has blessed me.

Have a Happy Monday! ❤️

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:1-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Back in the Saddle!

Sat, 23 Sep 2017 01:55:13 -0600

You can’t keep a good gal down for long! I still felt a little rough yesterday morning but once I had a couple cups of good, strong coffee and a bowl of oats in me, I was pretty much good to go. Mr. FixIt mowed the lawn for me here at the farm and wouldn’t let me help. I felt pretty guilty being lazy while he was out working. By the time he was done, and I had rested, I was feeling bored so we went for a ride.

Our first stop was Volcano Days. No, it has nothing to do with molten lava and everything to do with oil and gas. This is in celebration of the people I heard about on the tour we gave the Sisters on the Fly when they were here a couple of weeks ago. The Flywheel Club brings their little pumps and big pumps and start them up. Some run to just show you what they can do. Others run washing machines or ice cream freezers or saw mills. There was a giant flea market, a large concession area and a stage with live entertainment.

Mr FixIt can’t go anywhere without running into five people he knows and last night was no exception. We wandered through the booths and I bought a Griswold No. 8 704S cast iron skillet for twenty bucks! I love Griswolds. They’re smoother on the cooking surface and they’re great for frying anything, as long as they are properly seasoned as this one is. . I love frying potatoes in them. The new Lodge cast iron skillets are too rough in the bottom.

After dinner, we drove on into town to see the aftermath of the demolition. A trailer Mr. FixIt owned was torn down yesterday and we went to see the empty lot. It looked massive without the trailer there. We ended the evening with dinner at Bob Evans. I’m still babying my tummy and the comfort food of chicken pot pie hit the spot.

This video (on the Facebook page only) from Volcano Days shows a large pump that came off a well. I wanted you to hear this because this is a sound from my youth. I was awakened from a sound sleep many summer mornings to the crack, crack, crack of these engines as they were started up by the pump guys to run the wells. I loved hearing them again.

Thank you all for your kindness when I was feeling under the weather! You really helped! ❤️

“Dear friend, I hope all is well with you and that you are as healthy in body as you are strong in spirit.” ‭‭3 John‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

My Lot in Life

Sat, 16 Sep 2017 01:55:20 -0600

For those of you who’ve been following me for awhile, you remember what a struggle it was to downsize when I sold my house. Getting rid of 95% of my personal belongings just a year after losing Mr. Virgo was very stressful. I have been so careful not to accumulate “stuff” again. But, I’ve got to tell ya…this Country Living Fair is exceptional. I think this is my third in a row and it seems each one gets better. I will have to say, there were a lot more people here on opening day than the last two years. If that’s any indication of the overall attendance, we’re in for a whale of an event!

When you work a Fair such as this, you try to have enough people helping that you can take breaks and wander around. As I was walking over to the main stage for Janine’s talk yesterday, I spied some windmill vanes and stopped after to price them. The one in this photo was a half vane for $600! One with two less fins was $400. Still way out of my price range. My daughter’s sister-in-law has one she got from the family ranch and has it mounted on the wall in her dining room. I’d love to have one, but A) I’m not spending that kind of money and B) I don’t have anyplace to put it right now, and C) experiences before stuff. I could have a really great trip for $600.

Wandering the aisles of the fair is so tempting. I will tell you what I bought yesterday. A nice serving of Miss Parolee’s Kentucky Deep-Dish Blackberry Cobbler warmed up with a scoop of Vanilla Ice Cream. Windmill vane. Miss Parolee’s cobbler. I think I made the better choice! ❤️

“Even so, I have noticed one thing, at least, that is good. It is good for people to eat, drink, and enjoy their work under the sun during the short life God has given them, and to accept their lot in life. And it is a good thing to receive wealth from God and the good health to enjoy it. To enjoy your work and accept your lot in life—this is indeed a gift from God. God keeps such people so busy enjoying life that they take no time to brood over the past.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭5:18-20‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Ooooom-Pa-Pa!

Fri, 15 Sep 2017 01:55:43 -0600

I arrived at the Country Living Fair in the early afternoon yesterday and met my Girl Camper friends. We had to wait our turn to pull the three campers into the grounds so we sat around and nibbled on finger foods and caught up with what’s been going on in each other’s lives. Girl Camper extraordinaire, Janine Pettit, regaled us with stories of her epic month long trip to the National Parks out west this summer. Gail shared that her daughter is going to live overseas for a year. Jill was excited about her new-to-her Airstream she recently redecorated. I shared the article from the Fidelity online magazine. Sisters and Girl Campers always pick up where we left off the last time.

I don’t know if you’ve ever gone to a Country Living Fair but the amount of work that goes on in the background to set something up this massive and intricate is astounding. We drove in on cue when it was our turn. The area where we set up is pretty tight and it took a great deal of maneuvering to get all three campers in just right. I’m glad I have some mad backing up skills because they came in handy yesterday!

Once the three campers were set up, they had to be “staged”. You’ve all seen those cute campers in the magazines with all the vintage collectibles or great quilts or baskets of flowers? All those things were placed there with an eye much more skilled than mine. When these girls were finished, it looked just like a photo shoot! I can’t wait to take pictures today!

As I walked through the fair grounds, the displays were eye candy for someone who cannot resist the colorful, glossy pages of Country Living Magazine. It’s like the magazine itself has come alive…its pages exploding on the grounds all around you! Antiques, linens, rusty farm implements, artsy clothing and jewelry…you name it, it’s here. Including the kitchen sink. It’s truly one of the most beautiful fairs of its kind in the country. I’m so looking forward to browsing when I can.

I’ve read Country Living Magazine for years. Now that I’m living a country life, it would be so easy to accumulate too much stuff again and, seriously…I really don’t want to go through that kind of downsizing ever again. I carefully curate what comes in my house now. I only have what is useful and I know to be beautiful. The trouble is…there is SO much that I find beautiful. So my third measure is…Would I rather have this “thing” or go someplace with that money. Experience over stuff wins just about every time.

We ended the evening at a German restaurant where the highlight of the evening was a group of dinner guests playing cowbells to the tune “Edelweiss”. You can’t make this stuff up!

Stay tuned…I may not be able to resist some extra posts today when I see something pretty! ❤️

“Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

He Will Cover You With His Feathers

Thu, 14 Sep 2017 01:55:17 -0600

It’s hard to believe exactly four-and-a-half years ago, I was preparing a funeral for a man I never dreamed of losing. Mr. Virgo was gone in a heartbeat, literally, and I was left to make some sense and order out of the chaos left behind. Looking back on it with today’s vision, I can see so many things I would have done differently. I don’t think I made huge mistakes, but I think if I would have known then what I know now, there are definitely things I would have done differently.

I hosted the Sisters on the Fly event over the weekend and there were a couple fairly new widows there. They did well, enjoyed themselves, and were very capable campers. I could see through all that to the pain that lay beneath the surface. I recognized them…I was there not all that long ago myself.

A couple of years ago, I was contacted by a writer and published author of many books on women and finance. She was writing an article for the New York Times on widowhood and retirement and asked if she could interview me. We have stayed in touch over the last couple of years and she has followed my blog. Recently I heard from her again. She had been asked by Fidelity to write an article about widowhood and investing and immediately thought of me. We spoke again and I shared those things I felt I did right, and those I could have…should have…done differently.

The article for Fidelity’s “Viewpoints” online magazine went live yesterday and I am sharing it with you here. From the beginning, this blog was meant not only as a way to share and heal my own grief, but also to serve as a place to learn, grow, and experience support if you are grieving, and preparation if you aren’t. Knowledge is power and grief makes you feel totally powerless. I wish I would have had a grief mentor in my early stages of loss. I try to be that person for others. If it weren’t for God covering me with His feathers to guide, guard, and protect me, I never would have survived such a loss.

And now, here I am nearly five years after losing Mr. Virgo and I not only have survived, I am thriving. New life, new love, new experiences. I never would have dreamed this was possible. Today I leave for the Country Living Fair in Columbus, Ohio. Please stop by for a visit if you are in the area! ❤️

https://www.fidelity.com/viewpoints/personal-finance/8-financial-tips-for-widows

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭91:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Mountain Music

Wed, 13 Sep 2017 01:55:41 -0600

I’m still glowing over the events of the past weekend. When I was planning this gathering for the Sisters on the Fly, I had everything pictured in my head and it came out just like I had hoped. But the months leading up to the event had points where it was pretty nerve wracking. The two big items on my list turned out to be the two most difficult to fill. A caterer and entertainment for Saturday night.

I have such a wonderful network of friend on Facebook. They come from all walks of like. After making countless calls and searching the internet, I finally called the administration at the park where we camped and she gave me the name of a caterer to try. One phone call and I had them booked…at a price about half what I expected. The food was fabulous! If you need a BBQ caterer in the Mid-Ohio Valley, call Smokin’ Pig’s Ash Barbecue.

I kept striking out on the entertainment front, too. First off, it was the same weekend as the Sternwheel Festival in Marietta (the main reason we planned it when we did) and there was a huge bluegrass festival up north. I really wanted old time jammers, but they were scarce as hen’s teeth. I finally contacted my friend Todd Burge, a talented local musician who is more a folk singer. Unfortunately, he was booked, but he told me to contact Jake Eddy. Jake turns 18 this week, and has already been named #1 in guitar and banjo in the state of West Virginia. He and his brother (only 13!) and grandpa played for two hours and I’ll tell you what, they did not disappoint. The girls were so impressed! And, frankly…so was I. We are all going to look back one day and say we saw him way back when!

Tomorrow, I head out for my next event. I’m going to be at the Country Living Fair in Columbus, Ohio with Janine Pettit and the Girl Campers lending a hand in any way I can to support her. Janine is so talented and well spoken. She will have the crowd eating out of her hand and I so enjoy tagging along whenever I can. I always learn so much from her.

This is an incredibly busy month in the camping circuit and I’m thrilled to take you along with me. We’re going to see some amazing things. Watch for some live broadcasts from the Country Living Fair! ❤️

“I will sing of steadfast love and justice; to you, O Lord, I will make music.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭101:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Jersey Girls

Tue, 12 Sep 2017 01:55:31 -0600

We had such a mish-mash of gals at the SOTF event this weekend. I’ve heard so much about Jean Taylor over the years that I felt I already knew her, even though we’d never met. She came with three of her umpteen cousins and they were an absolute hoot and a half. They love to “camp”. As a matter of fact, Jean owns a campground in New Jersey. I am not sure how “campy” the others get, seeing how the sum of their experience thus far seemed to be staying in the motor home at the campground. But I loved them. You know why? Because they didn’t know you could make ice cream by hand. They’d never seen the Milky Way. They hadn’t heard of clogging in any other sense than what cholesterol does to your arteries. They were delightful!

One story they told was how, very early on, their great grandfather lived in WV. He was an Italian immigrant and a miner with a huge family. And, as any good Italian did, he made wine for their consumption. Apparently, the revenuers caught wind of this, raided his home and broke all the bottles of wine. Great-grandma sent one of the kids to the mine to tell papa not to come home and why. He took off for New Jersey and stayed there till grandma could get there with the children. Thus, they put down roots in NJ. If not for the revenuers, how many more West Virginians would we have?

I named them “Honorary Hillbillies”…those wonderful Italian women from New Jersey!

We also had a published author of historical romances. A woman who owned a farm, played guitar, and is learning to drive horses. There were a few widows. There was a woman simultaneously going to college and living in her new Airstream as she explores the country over the next eighteen months. There were three moms of autistic children who bonded over that. There were artists and nurses, retired and employed. They slept in everything from cars to tents to vintage campers to modern campers to a brand new Airstream. Yet they all have one thing in common…they are Sisters. A fact that is never taken lightly. I am so proud to be a member of this organization and look forward to more gatherings with them. ❤️

“She is more precious than jewels, and nothing you desire can compare with her.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Flatfootin' to the Fiddle

Mon, 04 Sep 2017 01:55:32 -0600

Y’all remember I came to West Virginia in October of 2014 to live on the family farm and help my elderly aunt. That lasted ten weeks and she decided she didn’t rightly think she wanted anyone extra around and I graciously bowed out. That’s when I moved around in my camper…first at the river then out to Colorado, South Dakota, Tennessee and all parts in between. I spent the better part of two years as a gypsy of sorts…writing, speaking, and healing my broken heart.

That same aunt gave me a fiddle after my grandma died in 1999. She left it on the bed without fanfare. When I went to bed that night and saw the fiddle, I sat on the edge of my bed, cradling it, running my fingers over the worn wooden frets…tears streaming down my face. I remembered that fiddle well. I was a very little girl. My great grandfather, a moose of a man, was at the farm. He and my uncle and my Pop-Pop built the basement and rolled the old house down over the foundation on long well casing pipes from an oilfield. My uncle loves to tell me that story and I listen and laugh every time as if it were my first hearing.

They had to jack the house up to put the pipes under. The new basement was slightly downgrade and they didn’t want it to take off and get away from them. They wrapped a chain around the pipe and attached a huge pipe wrench for leverage. Murphy’s Law tells you what happened next. The house did indeed start rolling and the only thing that stopped it from shooting off the other side of the basement was that wrench. The handle had been driven about two feet into the ground and worked like a brake.

My great grandpa had gone down in the basement to monitor things from below and tell my uncle when the house was over the new foundation. When it took off, Grandpa start yelling to “Make ’er stop, boys! Make ’er stop!” There weren’t any steps in place yet, so as soon as my uncle had the house secure, he ran to the basement doorway and hollered for my grandpa. “I stopped ’er!” Grandpa cried. “By golly, I stopped ’er, boys!”

My uncle shinnied down a ladder into the basement and there was Grandpa, wedged up between the floorboards of the first floor and the pipe! Seems he deemed it a good idea to tie a stout rope to that pipe and tie the other end around his waist so he could “stop ’er”. Well, the rope wound up around the pipe and drew him right up like a bucket from a well. Thank God that wrench caught or that would have been the end of Grandpa!

Soon after the house was secured to the new foundation, the stairs were built, and they added a front porch and poured a concrete slab for the back porch and the new bathroom that was being added. One summer night, after all the work had been done, my Pop-Pop pulled out the old fiddle and played “Turkey in the Straw”. My great grandpa grabbed a walking stick, stuck his bowler hat jauntily on the top is his head, and started flatfoot dancing on the porch. I will never, ever forget the deep thrill I got watching that scene unfold before me as I clapped my hands with the beat.

I’ve always wanted to learn to flatfoot dance…also called clogging, or Apache dancing. I’ve watched countless videos but haven’t seemed to get it right. One of these days I will take a lesson and finally learn. This is the week I am hosting a Sisters on the Fly event here in West Virginia and I am so excited to showcase our state and its fine traditions. We’re having an old-fashioned weenie roast and we’ll churn ice cream. We’re going on a sternwheel ride on the Ohio River. We’re touring two mansions and an abandoned oil and gas boom town. And, we’re having a catered barbecue. Our entertainment is a young banjo player named Jake Eddy. He’s bringing some friends for some Old Time Jammin’…that front porch informal style typical of performers who sit around after shows and play for the sheer enjoyment. At this point, he hasn’t been able to find a fiddle player but he’s hoping he can get one. So do I!

I’ve added a link to some great flatfoot dancing if you are interested. This is going to be a tremendously busy week for me so you may not hear much from me till the 10th or 11th. I’ll touch base but probably won’t have time to write my usual daily essay. This is going to be great fun so hang on for pictures, video, or quick stories. ❤️

youtu.be/xyqcHMPa1…

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭30:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Good Ol' Days

Sun, 03 Sep 2017 01:55:44 -0600

We were taking a break yesterday when Mr. FixIt started reading a story in Goldenseal Magazine. The Goldenseal has been around since 1975 and is published four times a year. It has wonderful stories about traditional life in West Virginia. And, since I’m living a pretty traditional life, I really love that magazine. The story that caught Mr. FixIt’s attention was about a clothespin factory in Richwood, WV. That got me thinking about all the clotheslines of my life.

We always had clotheslines. The metal T-shaped poles were anchored in the ground with cement and lasted till they rusted through. We’d have to go out with a wire brush and a can of Rustoleum and paint them every other summer or so. Ours were always silver but the last time I painted them at the farm, I used black. I remember as a child, the clotheslines themselves were woven…a kind of rope-like material. Another was a thick aluminum wire that created a wiggly clothesline that never straightened out. Then, as we got older and the plastic generation set in, the lines were white, hollow tubes that pinched shut with the spring-hinged clothespins. Later came the plastic covered cable lines. Once we got away from the rope lines, you had to take a wet rag out and run it up and down the clothesline to clean them or else you got black stuff on your clean clothes. At least you did in the chemical-laden Mid-Ohio Valley where I grew up. (Our bare feet would be black with the fallout from Union Carbide!)

The early clothespins were the peg ones then came the clip on kind with the spring hinge. I liked the peg ones because I would pretend they were dolls. I’d dress them up with pieces of material from Grandma’s scrap bag. I’d draw faces on them and, if we had any glue around, I might even give them some yarn hair. We always had a clothespin bag that hung out on the clothesline. It had a hole in the side where you reached in and grabbed a few pins and stuck them in your mouth to use as you needed them. You had to watch because sometimes wasps, or even birds, would make nests in the bags.

When you finished hanging your laundry, the wet clothes often made the lines so heavy, they stretched down and the clothes brushed the ground. In order to keep your clothes clean, you used a long pole with a nail in the side near one end and hooked up you clothesline, propping it up high. Hanging clothes in Colorado was awesome because it’s so dry there, a load would be ready to bring in, fold, and put away in an hour or two. Not so in West Virginia. The humidity of summer would make laundry turn into an all-day affair. And you’d better not get distracted and let the rain get on them or leave them out too late till they gathered the dew or you’d be doing the same clothes over the next day.

Clothes that are hung dry aren’t nice and soft like the ones that come out of a dryer. They are stiff and scratchy. I hated to use towels that dried on the line. But sheets dried in the sun are heavenly! They smell so wonderful…like sunshine and Ivory Snow. Men wore work clothes when I grew up. Khaki, green, or blue…heavy cotton twill. They had to be put on wire pants stretchers to put a crease in them. That made ironing easier because most of the wrinkles were flattened out. Yes…I said ironing. Most of you have done exactly what I’m talking about. But some may not have, so I’ll continue.

Ironing. The BANE of my existence as a child. My mom worked outside of the home once I was in school, so as soon as we were old enough to stay home alone, laundry and cooking and cleaning house became my daily routine. We didn’t have the luxury of using a dryer routinely. It was only used during the winter or very rainy days. All other times, Dad’s work clothes, our dresses, and my brother’s shirts and trousers had to be ironed. We had a “sprinkler”…a water bottle with a small perforated head on it that we would sprinkle the clothes if they were very dry and stiff. Then we would fold them, put them in a bushel basket with an oilcloth liner to hold in the moisture, cover them with a towel and come back to them an hour or so later. Before I came along, starch had to be cooked and added to the rinse water to give clothes a really crisp finish and nice, sharp creases. Once I was old enough to iron, we had spray starch in cans.

Who remembers the load you forgot in the washer for a day or two? Oh, that smelled SO bad and you would often get mildew stains that never came out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You were in big trouble if you forgot a load and ruined clothes.

Grandma had wringer washers. I loved them, but I was not allowed to use them when I was little. They were dangerous because you could get your hand caught in them and get hurt. I remember how excited grandma was when my uncle brought her a good wringer washer…long after she had an automatic set in the bathroom. She missed the old way. She thought it cleaned better. I’d love to have a good wringer washer but the water in the basement doesn’t work like it used too. Too many years of hard water corroding those old pipes. I’d be afraid the spigot would break off in my hand.

I still have my mom’s clothespins. They are in a copper bucket I bought many years ago. I put it on top of the jelly cupboard here at the farm. Mom’s pins got mixed up with my own, but I can pretty much tell which ones I used as a child. I found Grandma’s clothespin bag hanging in the stairwell going down into the basement so I hung it in the kitchen on a child’s wooden coat hanger I found in an antique store last year. I think this is why I love Rural King so much. They carry so many things that we used “back in the day”. It reminds me of “simpler times”, even though we worked harder. Not nearly as hard as my grandparents, but certainly harder than the average kids of today.

The last picture is the clothesline in the backyard in front of the hydrangea bush. You can see a couple old clothespins…weathered and nearly deteriorated to slivers. I won’t remove them. Maybe my grandma left them there when she brought in a dish towel or two…or something she rinsed out by hand. Surely my Uncle Bob had cleaned the line with an old rag. I’m sentimental about things. There are clotheslines along the side of the house. There’s one on the front porch and one on the back for hanging things when it’s raining. Then there’s this one that runs from the back porch to the cherry tree. That one I don’t use. That one reminds me…of my loved ones long since gone. Of the halcyon days of summer when I thought life was SO hard because I had to hang clothes and iron and cook supper for my family. Of the “Good Ol’ Days”. ❤️

“The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭13:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

An Unlikey Pair

Sat, 02 Sep 2017 01:55:28 -0600

I’ve been living on the farm a little over a year now. It went so fast, yet…as with many things…it seems so much longer. Not long after I got settled in, I began to notice an odd pair of friends at the house down the road. You never see one without the other and I cannot help but smile when I see them. They never leave the yard, wandering about nibbling up bugs and grass.

I don’t know the story behind these two. The family who lives there lost their mom several years ago so it’s just the guys on their own. They all work a lot and the house and grounds seem to be well cared for, but I rarely see anyone….just the turkey and the duck.

As Mr. FixIt and I drove to town yesterday, I asked him to stop in the rain so I could take their picture. As soon as the car stopped, the turkey laid down. The duck never moved from the turkey’s side, but he set to squawking like crazy to let me know he didn’t like the intrusion. We sat by the road and talked to them for a bit then moved on. We forgot something and had to go back to the house and when we came back down the road, the fowl confab had moved behind the house to eat uninterrupted.

I thought about this pair all the way to town and wondered…Why can’t we ALL just get along like that? Those two don’t know they’re different. They just like each other’s company. Now, I’m not going to get into a political discussion. I’m not “choosing sides”. I just think we could take a lesson or two from this turkey and duck. We only have one race…the human race. We only have one life…this one. We are being divided and I’m not sure by whom. Media? Politicians? Special interest groups? Who know…who cares? I just want to love my fellow man like this duck loves this turkey.

God created us all. He gave us the rule book. We can’t do this divided. The enemy wants us to fail. And if he can get us to do his dirty work for him and make us destroy each other…well, that’s just icing on the cake. Shine your light, people. Walk out in faith and fight for truth and justice….for all! ❤️

“Do we not all have one Father? Did not one God create us? Why do we profane the covenant of our ancestors by being unfaithful to one another?” ‭‭Malachi‬ ‭2:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Words

Fri, 01 Sep 2017 01:55:56 -0600

I have seldom been at a loss for words. My mom always said I had “the gift of gab”. I was always a little insulted by that because I was sure she was saying “You talk too much!” Ok…I’ll have to admit…I do have a lot to say. About everything.

Some of my very best writing has come from my very deepest pain. As difficult as it was to go through, that kind of writing is actually a whole lot easier than writing from a place of joy. Of peace. Of love. Writing from pain is cathartic. It releases energy and the words have a life of their own. Someone told me I had “lost my focus” a little while after I introduced Mr. FixIt to the story. That has niggled at me ever since. She’s right…in a way. But not in the way she thinks.

Here’s the thing. I was driving to the farm last night after spending a lovely day in town. I am putting some finishing touches on the event I am hosting next week for the Sisters on the Fly. Between that, the trip to Colorado, the trailer breaking down, the return trip to get it, catching up with stuff around the farm, the Centennial Celebration at my high school, and nurturing a new love relationship…I haven’t been keeping my focus where it belongs. Not on grief, but on God. I was driving along that twisty turny two lane and started talking to Him. Then I realized…I hadn’t been keeping Him at the center of my life for a little while. I took my focus off for just a moment and that led me down a path I don’t like. Peter was walking on water toward Jesus when he took his eyes off Him…and sank immediately.

I had a long discussion with God…it’s a forty-five minute ride, you know. I made my apologies and I’ll try to do better. Because everything is better when I keep God at the center of my life. My relationships. My writing. My life. It has to be more than just lip service, this profession of faith. Keeping that fire in my belly keeps me from drowning…and keeps my words flowing. ❤️

““Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭14:28-33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Photo Credit: Shutterstock

The Gift

Thu, 31 Aug 2017 01:55:32 -0600

I went to the best high school on the planet. You might say the same thing about yours. I hope you do. Parkersburg High School itself is older than 100 years, but the current building opened its doors on August 29, 1917. It is a gorgeous building that looks much more like a college campus than that of a high school. When the old school became woefully inadequate, the person charged with purchasing land for the new building ruffled a lot of feathers when he bought nearly thirty acres of swamp, cattails, and quicksand. The swamp was filled in and the building went up, without the wings. They were added later.

I was given many gifts at my alma mater. I was exposed to such sports as fencing, handball, and gymnastics. I enjoyed art and actually met Mr. FixIt when I was painting the backdrops for a play and he was on the stage crew. I took all the typical college prep classes even though I didn’t go to college. I went to x-ray school after I graduated. I was offered Home Economics and Latin and Typing. I had a well-rounded education. But the greatest gift I received from my high school years was the gift of music. While I was not selected for the elite A Capella Choir, I did participate in the Girl’s Choir and loved it very much. Some of my sweetest memories involve performing in front of the large crowds in the auditorium or the field house (pictured here).

We were the Big Red Indians…Big Reds for short. When the Centennial Celebration was being planned a year ago, the call went out for former A Capella Choir members to join in a combined Alumni Choir to perform with the current choir members. Tuesday night, I had the pleasure of attending this performance and it was wonderful. I saw friends I hadn’t seen since we graduated. The music was amazing. When I went to high school, the band took pride in being an All Male Military Marching Band. I graduated in 1971…girls were not allowed to wear pants to school until my senior year. It’s a different world now, and the changes are much for the better. The band was top notch. The Drum Major led them with precision and a practiced professionalism far beyond her years. My favorite part of the program was the final two songs…The Hallelujah Chorus and The Alma Mater. I cried and my heart burst with Big Red Pride.

Is it odd to feel such intense loyalty to a high school? I didn’t have the college experience so I don’t have that to compare it with. But I do know, a great sense of pride was instilled in us when we first stepped foot on that campus. The first day of our sophomore year, when we finally got to be a Big Red student, we were ushered into the stadium and learned about this revered school. It was an honor and a privilege to attend this school. We were informed we were “sophomores”…that’s pronounced with three syllables, not two. We were taught The Alma Mater by Mrs. Jean Singer…The A Capella Choir Director (who joined another former director and the current director in last night’s performance). We were taught how to enunciate the words and not slide them together. This was heady stuff to a teenage girl full of wide eyed innocence.

Yes, we are proud of our school. She’s the “Grande Dame” of Dudley Avenue. And one thing every graduate will tell you…

“Once a Big Red, Always a Big Red”! ❤️

“Whoever pursues righteousness and love finds life, prosperity and honor.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭21:21‬ ‭NIV‬‬

A Surprising Find

Wed, 30 Aug 2017 01:55:43 -0600

Yesterday’s post about the old Lily Pond in City Park sparked a debate as to which pond was actually the one with all the lilies on it…the big one that is still there or the smaller one that was taken out many years ago. I set out to do some research on Roger Mackey’s page. Roger is a fine historian on West Virginia, and Parkersburg in particular. He has pages and pages of historic photos of everything from the old movie theaters to natural disasters…from the society elite to skid row…and all things in between. I can get lost for hours looking through his old photos. It’s like going into an antique store for me.

As I browsed through the titles of the different pages, looking for City Park, I saw the page for Greiner’s Bakery and clicked on it. My paternal grandmother decorated cakes for Greiner’s for many, many years. The Bakery sat near the corner of my high school campus and every afternoon the smell of fresh baked bread wafted in through the open windows of my classroom, drawing my attention quickly away from the dry lectures my chemistry teacher gave.

I could hardly wait till school was out each afternoon. I would meet my cousin Mike and walk up the alley to Grandmother’s house. She always had a dozen raised glazed donuts and a galling of ice cold milk waiting for us. We made quick work of those delicious treats. She called them “seconds”, which meant they were accidentally dropped in the glaze twice! Their loss was definitely our gain!

As I scrolled down the old photos and read the descriptions, I stumbled across two special ones that caused a rush of memories and a great big smile. First, there was this photo of the company Christmas Party. I scanned the faces, and there…to the left…is my grandmother, smiling broadly into the camera! My relationship with my dad’s mother was complicated by her dislike for my father. I never quite understood my standing in her world, but I do have many fond memories of her. She baked and decorated wonderful cakes. She instilled her loved of seeing and crafting in me. She made the best chicken and dumplings I ever ate. She also forced me to drink unsweetened sage tea as she believed my pale skin was secondary to intestinal parasites. To this day, I cannot stomach sage.

I remember the house she lived in on Avery Street. Avery was one of the old brick streets in town. Grandmother’s house was a half block from a huge cemetery and just two blocks from my high school. She rented the lower level of a two story house. The landlady lived upstairs with her cocker spaniel, Honey. Honey would cry and howl every time her mama would leave the house and it made me so sad. The front porch was large and covered. There was a swing and room for several chairs.

The interior of the house was dark and quiet. The mahogany hardwood floors were covered with thick oriental rugs. The mantel in the front room had a clock that chimed the hour. The dining room was set up as her sewing room…an old, low, armless rocker sat in the corner. The bedroom was comfortable. A silver ladies dresser set was on the top with a brush, a comb, a mirror, a small cup for bobby pins, and a covered powder container filled with the pale grey webbing of hair nets. The tines of the comb were blue from the rinse my grandmother religiously put on her hair. The bathroom had doors to the bedroom and the kitchen. I loved the claw foot tub. I received many Toni home perms in that bathroom. The kitchen had tall, white painted cabinets and a long, deep farm sink. It was the brightest room in the house. The counters were covered with African violets growing in every possible container…including teacups. The backdoor let out to a postage stamp yard with a huge holly tree. A dogwood graced the front yard. Bits of slate tiles lay here and there around the perimeter of the house. I was lucky and found a whole one once that crash landed in the flower bed. I used it as a blackboard when I played school.

As I scrolled past the picture with my grandmother in it, I came to a shot of the display windows in one of the newer stores. There in the left is a doll cake. Oh, my…I coveted that cake every year, begging my grandmother for one for my birthday. When I finally got one, I was elated…especially when I found out the doll’s legs were embedded in rich, buttercream frosting! The “dress” was decorated with loops and swags and flowers and I thought it was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.

Complicated family relationships can lead to a lifetime of resentment and hurt feelings. The other day, my post was all about forgiveness setting you free. Forgiveness hasn’t rewritten history, per se. But it has allowed me to focus on the good memories I have of my father and his family. And as an adult, I have had the utmost good fortune of getting to know my cousins from that side of the family and I have been greatly blessed by that. It is never too late to change your focus and see the good parts of your past. Yesterday’s treasured finds have reminded me of that. ❤️

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭10:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

A Walk in the Park

Tue, 29 Aug 2017 01:55:48 -0600

Yesterday was a super busy day with appointments and errands and helping Mr. FixIt do some stuff. We got a salad from Chik-fil-A and went down by the Ohio and ate an early picnic supper. The weather was cool and overcast which made the day’s chores less bothersome. I was getting ready to head back home when a friend posted a clearance sale for tabletop ice makers. I’ve been looking at those for a couple of years and finally found one I liked with a price I could live with so I ran to the store to get it. As I was leaving, Mr. FixIt called to see if I wanted to meet him at the park and walk. Man, did I ever!!! I’ve been working hard but haven’t really been exercising so I was quick to say “Yes, please!!!”

The City Park in Parkersburg is beautiful. When I was growing up, there was a huge lily pond in the park. As a matter of fact, it has been billed as the largest lily pond in the country, if not the world. Mr. FixIt and I have a running disagreement as to where said pond was located. I say it is where the current pond stands. He says it was over by the band shelter. He’s probably right because he tells a story about how he and his brother ran away from home when they were seven and nine and hid out in the park to evade the search efforts. He remembers losing a shoe in the pond. We think it was sometime in the ’60s when they tore the old lily pond out for some reason. I don’t recall why, but I remember clearly how beautiful it was when the water lilies were in bloom. My dad would drive us around the pond when we were little and sometimes we would stop for a picnic.

One loop around the paved outer road in the park is one mile exactly so I walked two miles and headed home. I fed the cats which means my finicky eaters delicately nibbled some kibble and left the rest for the possums. They will sit right there and watch the possums come up and eat from their dishes. I mean, really? I don’t get it. Mr. FixIt scared off the brazen little devil and tucked the dishes in a covered container to keep the yard rats out of them. I hate feeding varmints and I don’t know what else to do. I’ve taken to feeding the cats once a day. That way they are hungry, eat well, and there aren’t the leftovers at the end of the evening like there is when I feed them at night. Last night I fell for their sad-eyed looks and slinking around the back porch as though they hadn’t eaten in a month. Sneaky stinkers!

Today is a home day then I’m going to town tonight to hear the Alumni Acapella Choir perform at my Alma Mater for the Centennial Celebration. I’m really looking forward to that! Then Wednesday I’m not going anywhere. First time in weeks. I think I’m looking forward to that even more! ❤️

“I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,” ‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭1:13‬ ‭NIV‬

Forgiveness

Mon, 28 Aug 2017 01:55:55 -0600

We had a guest speaker at church yesterday and man…did he deliver! So here we go…it’s time for some Monday Morning Motivation. We’re going to church.

Forgiveness. Such a simple word that is packed full of power. We all need forgiveness for something. Something we’ve done that has hurt others. Hurt ourselves. Or maybe, something we did in the dark that no one knows about. Thing is….someone knows. Someone always knows. You know. And God knows.

“would not God discover this? For he knows the secrets of the heart.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭44:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Our guest pastor was Pace Hartfield of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. He tells a story of the first night his father let him drive his mother’s brand new car when he turned sixteen. There was just one caveat…he was not to leave town. So, of course, he left town. And had an accident. He had hoped to leave his dad in the dark, cruise 22nd Street with his homey, Andy, and get back with his dad none the wiser. But the deed was exposed. There was the damage to the car. And the police report. There was no way around it. Pace’s dad didn’t yell at him. He didn’t beat him. He grounded him. He also informed him he had lost his father’s trust. He would have preferred the beating, I am sure.

How many time have we lost the trust of others by our deeds? How many others have trespassed against us and we have lost our trust in them? As Pace pointed out so eloquently, forgiveness requires exposure. And that exposure creates vulnerability. Oh, we hate feeling vulnerable, don’t we? We can get stuck in that exposure and vulnerability and feel shame without forgiveness. It is the forgiveness that sets us free. That frees others. Who have you literally held hostage for years by not forgiving them?

The guest pastor spoke of the woman who was caught in the act of adultery. The religious leaders tried to set Jesus up by bringing the woman before him in the temple where he was teaching. They were loud and raucous and challenged Jesus to do something with her. Instead, he ignored them and stopped down to write in the sand. The leaders were outraged and became even louder. Jesus quietly stood up and said, “Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” He then went back to writing in the sand. One by one, the leaders left without stoning the woman till they were left alone in the temple. Jesus knew what she had done. But he loved her anyway. He did not condone what she had done, and instead offered her forgiveness and sent her on her way with the admonishment to “Go and sin no more.”

We all sin. We all make mistakes. We feel guilt and shame. But we are forgiven and we are loved. Forgiveness sets us free from the bondage we place on ourselves, on others, by others. I often quote Maya Angelou…“We do what we know and when we know better, we do better.” Well, sometimes we know better and we do it anyway. Yet, still…we are loved and forgiven by a good, good Father. Our work here is to love and forgive in the same way. ❤️

“The eyes of the LORD are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭15:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Back on the Farm

Sat, 26 Aug 2017 01:55:41 -0600

It’s been a year since I put down roots here on the family farm. Well, as deep a root as I can put and not own property. What a remarkable year! I battled fleas, painted walls, mowed, trimmed, pruned, cleaned, sorted, dehumidifier, and about scared myself to death that I had ruined the well or burned up the pump. I’ve learned to stop letting grief steal my joy. I’ve learned to let go of the fear of loss and clear out enough room in my life to accommodate the love of a sweet man. I’ve spoken in front of crowds, large and small. I started blogging for Sisters on the Fly as well as here on Marshmallow Ranch. I bought a vintage camper to fix up. I’ve been to Colorado twice, Florida twice, the Outer Banks, Tennessee, Savannah, Amish Country, and a fun trip to a WVU basketball game. I’ve been to concerts galore…Garth Brooks, SHEL, Brandy Carlisle to name a few. I’ve camped at some pretty cool places. I’ve been interviewed for podcasts and articles. I’ve lost some people in one way or another and I’ve gained more. I spent some wonderful time with my family. I’ve grown stronger in my faith. And I fell in love. All in one year! Whew!

We got home from the trip to Indiana and It was almost dark. I had to back this camper up into the driveway and it was more challenging as the light faded. I got it in ok and Mr. FixIt was a real trooper coaching me along. He filmed it. It might be funny…I don’t know. I haven’t taken the time to look at it yet.

We are going to a class picnic today so as soon as I walked in last night, I mixed up a yellow cake to bake. I’ll make Penuche Frosting this morning so it’s nice and fresh. I looked through Grandma’s notebook hoping to find her recipe but it wasn’t there. Her Brown Sugar Pie recipe was though. I’ll have to make that soon…it’s wonderful!

As I sat and wrote this, Mr. FixIt asked if I could hear the owl. I couldn’t until I went to the front door. I recorded it for you and posted it last night so be sure you catch it. It’s the Eastern Screech Owl we heard the other evening on our walk. Oh…we visited with the neighbor down the road he other evening. He had a health scare while we were in Colorado and I was so happy to see him out working in his garden! It’s just another reminder how uncertain life is.

If you are in Texas, or have loved ones there, you are in my prayers. Please check in and let us know how you’re doing.

Yes…it’s been an amazing year on the farm, hasn’t it? Big things, little things, fun things, scary things. But we made it through. We’ll keep on keeping on and I’ll keep telling you these stories about this crazy, beautiful life I am privileged to lead. Thank you all for being here! ❤️

“and having a reputation for good works: if she has brought up children, has shown hospitality, has washed the feet of the saints, has cared for the afflicted, and has devoted herself to every good work.” ‭‭1 Timothy‬ ‭5:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Ahhhh...Indiana!

Thu, 24 Aug 2017 01:55:30 -0600

I’m beginning to really like this state. I have been to Bloomington in the south. I’ve been back and forth along the I-70 corridor countless times. I spent a weekend here in Richmond in December 2015 when my daughter graduated from Miami University. And now I’m on my third camping excursion here. We picked TOW-Wanda up yesterday and she’s pretty as can be. They detailed her after putting on the new axle. I checked the hub temperature with my new infrared digital thermometer after driving a few miles and it was right around 97-98°. It may give me a false sense of security since the service guy told me “if it’s too hot, it’s too late.”

Just after we turned onto I-70 from I-77, we came to a standstill. As far as we could see, cars and trucks filled the highway like a parking lot in all three lanes. I was just telling Mr. FixIt I wished I had the extension app on my Garmin GPS to tell me about traffic when I remembered Waze. Some of my Sisters on the Fly friends were just discussing the merits of this free GPS app that is populated by user input. I had tried it a couple of years ago and didn’t like it so I took it off. I figured I couldn’t lose anything and I was sitting in a giant parking lot on the interstate so I downloaded the app and turned it on. Sure enough, it showed my location and several people up ahead posted what was going on…a car fire. When we finally started moving, there was not one, but two burned out shells of cars alongside the highway. I’ll have to see if I can find a news story about it because it was pretty impressive. I have unlimited data on my cell phone so I kept Waze running. Whenever there was a hazard, a policeman, or even a pothole in the roadway, the app let me know with an electronic voice. I’ll be using it whenever I drive.

The other thing I wanted to tell you about was this really cool tool I bought at Costco. I’ve been wanting a windshield mount for my cell phone and found a package of two at Costco when we were in Colorado. I gave one to Mr. FixIt for his truck and I put the other in mine. Now I can run Waze AND my GPS as I drive and have an unobstructed view of the road. I can answer calls hands free. I can even ask Siri to read my text messages and answer them by dictating and never take my eyes off the road.

If you find yourself in Richmond, Indiana in need of RV services…see Matt Green at Camping World. If you need a great campsite that’s easily accessible, check out Grandpa’s Farm Campground. And if you want a really great meal, go to O’Charley’s. Excellent! There are my PSA’s of the day. Helpful hints for your traveling pleasure…and, I get to sleep in TOW-Wanda again!!! ❤️

“In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭4:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Back to Business as Usual? Not so Fast!

Tue, 22 Aug 2017 01:55:18 -0600

Ok, move along…nothing to see here. Just a boxer in some goggles…looking uber cool, I might add! This is Chloe. I met her and her human, Kelly, at Point Park yesterday. All weekend I’d been poo-pooing this whole eclipse madness as though the entire world had gone ‘round the bend. I was on my way back to the farm yesterday…fully intending to go home and mow, when I got a call that something I was having repaired was ready for pickup. I hadn’t gone far out the two-lane so I turned around and headed back. Mr. FixIt called and when he found out where I was, he came to join me. (Mr. FixIt would crawl through glass to see me. He told me so. ?) So, there we were, nothing to do, with a nearly total eclipse about to occur. And…I went silly!

I asked the clerk for a couple pieces of paper. I got a manila envelope with a large hole for the clasp. And, I punched a smaller one in it with an earring post. Whatever works, right? We took off for McDonalds to arm ourselves with cold drinks and headed for Point Park. It was hot! The light started to change. I wasn’t getting the right distance to get a clear picture with the pinhole projector I had jury rigged. There was a couple standing next to us that offered to share their eclipse glasses. A few others gathered. And for one glorious hour, we were treated to a taste of what life was like in the olden days. You know…pre-election. We had an awesome goal…share a cool experience and have fun! And then it hit me. THAT’S what the whole over-the-top, staggeringly silly, brouhaha was all about…these mega gatherings. We just wanted an escape. A reminder of our humanity. A reminder there is peace and goodness and kindness in the world. It filled me with hope of brighter days ahead.

We have the power to turn this around…this sense of frustration and fear. It’s all about focus. What we focus on is what we see. Yesterday it was the sun. Today…what will it be? For me? I’m looking for joy. Joy created by others. And joy which I can create. C’mon…let’s change the story. Let’s go do the good stuff. Look at Chloe, The Boxer. She changed the story with a pair of shades! ❤️

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

Umbraphiles...The Shadow Lovers

Sun, 20 Aug 2017 01:55:38 -0600

They’ll chase an eclipse…clear across the ocean if they have to. They are umbraphiles. The Shadow Lovers. In 1972, Marcy Sigler chartered a ship, gathered 830 of her closest friends, and took off across the waters from New York to Nova Scotia to chase the eclipse and make it last as long as possible. There won’t be another total solar eclipse viewable in the continental United States for 180 some odd years so there are, as you well have seen, a gazillion umbraphiles coming out of the closet.

There are a lot of weird warnings out about the solar eclipse and it’s affect on everything from pregnancy to pets. An Indian newspaper recently warned women not to go outside during an eclipse to keep them from giving birth to a blind baby or one with a cleft lip. Eskimo women must place their cooking utensil upside down during an eclipse to ward off diseases. Also, some Indians wash their eyes out with urine during an eclipse to keep your eyes from ever hurting again.

I just received an e-mail from some veterinary outfit warning everyone to bring their pets into the house during a solar eclipse to prevent them from “looking up at the sun and being blinded”. Ok…is there a rash of beagles going outside at noon on any given day and staring at the sun? And if that’s the case, how about cats, and rats, and elephants? Actually, animals don’t take much notice of the sun. Pets may take notice of your excitement and react to that. You don’t need to put those cute little glasses on FiFi but if it will make you feel better, you can bring your pets in, draw the shades and let them watch the eclipse on television like respectable animals.

That being said, there may be some behavioral changes in the animal kingdom. Birds that roost may become quiet and prepare for a nap while nocturnal creatures may get the signal to wake up. The darkest moments of the eclipse occurs so quickly though that those night critters will probably just yawn and turn over and go back to sleep.

Now, one very real thing that may occur is the decrease in electricity from all the solar arrays in the path of the eclipse. As more and more communities produce more and more solar energy, an eclipse may be more noticeable with decreased output…especially when the eclipse occurs during the summer and during peak energy use times of the summer. I’m not sure what will happen, but there some potential for disruption.

I was wondering if anyone has calculated the carbon footprint of the eclipse and how all the increased driving and production of waste would affect the environment. But maybe I’m just being too, you know, scientific here. It’s still a pretty cool event and if you have a chance to watch one, you really should. Just remember to never stare at the sun without the proper protection. Be safe and have fun tomorrow. We’ll talk Tuesday about what you did and what you saw! ❤️

“The sun and moon will be darkened, and the stars no longer shine.” ‭‭Joel‬ ‭3:15‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My Hometown

Thu, 17 Aug 2017 01:55:11 -0600

There was a time in my life when I didn’t think much of my home town. I considered it terribly backwoods in comparison to the metropolis of Denver. To my chagrin, I recall making disparaging comments about Parkersburg, and West Virginia in general to anyone and everyone. It’s a wonder they didn’t revoke my home state status and mark me down as “hatched from under a rock”. What can I say? I never rebelled as an adolescent. I saved it all for long after I should have known better.

I remember making such comments to one of my oldest, dearest friends. We went to high school together and we’re “sisters of different parentage”. As a matter of fact, when I went off to live outside London for two years then settled in Denver, it was my high school friend who kept a close, personal friendship with my mom. She was a much better daughter to her in those days than I was. When I spoke ill of my fellow Mountaineers and this Wild and Wonderful state, she had some pretty stern words to say to me.

“You just remember where you came from, missy. I knew you when you had nothing, just like me!”

Oh, she was so right. I was feeling pretty full of myself…a doctor’s wife and all. Like…small town girl does good. I was an ass. Plain and simple. And I’ve done my best to make up for it. As Maya Angelou said…“We do what we know. And when we know better, we do better.” These last three years, I’ve spent more time in West Virginia than I had in all of the forty years prior. I’ve grown to love and appreciate this rugged state filled with can-do, sturdy individuals. I still get frustrated sometimes when I see progress thwarted at every turn. But maybe staying a little backward is ok. Yeah, we have been hit hard with drug problems. Poverty, obesity, poor education run rampant. Plants and mines closing down. Towns with nothing for kids to do but make more kids that do nothing. But, at the base, there is this amazing depth of pride for coming up through the hard times and standing tall when they play the National Anthem at the Friday night football games at every high school in every county. The mountains run through our veins like the coal beneath our feet and we are a fiercely proud, fiercely independent, fiercely loyal group of people.

Last night, as Mr. FixIt and I sat and watched the sun set over the Ohio River at Fort Boreman Park, we looked out over this town we grew up in. You could see where the houses sat on Quincy Hill where Mr. FixIt grew up. You could see Ohio across the river. I snapped photo after photo, trying to capture for you the essence of West Virginia…of Parkersburg…of my home town. In the end, it is in the peaceful colors of the setting sun that I see the famous blue and gold…West Virginia’s colors. And I realized that we are the river and the sky, the mountains and the valleys, the wooded hillsides and the amber fields. We will always be here. Montani Semper Liberi…Mountaineers are always free. ❤️

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Curiosity

Wed, 16 Aug 2017 01:05:28 -0600

You know what they say about curiosity…it killed the cat! I don’t know what Kitty Boy was after, but something sure had his attention yesterday. This old stump is what’s left of a poplar tree my Pop-Pop planted when I was a teenager. Poplars grow fast, tall, and straight as an arrow but they are pretty fragile in a storm. Long after Grandma died, my aunt was living here alone and a bad storm blew up. She said that poplar tree was twisting in a circle and she was just sure it was going to come down on the house so the next time her brother came, she had him cut it down. I understand why, but it broke my heart to see it gone. Thoughtfully, they left a tall stump and we use it for the rain gauge…and occasional cat perch. I noticed as I sat and wrote this last night, the rain gauge needs emptying. It’s at five inches. It hasn’t been emptied since before I left for Colorado in early July. I’m sure there has been some evaporation, but I know we had a lot of rain while I was gone.

I noticed when I was mowing yesterday that the creek banks are eroding a lot this year. I pointed it out to Mr. FixIt last night. We’re going to have to line the banks with heavy stones to keep the creek from eating out into the yard and into the foundation of the house. The new dehumidifier is doing a great job and has reduced the humidity in the basement from 75% to 45-50%. That makes the whole house feel more comfortable. This house was built in the early 1930’s. And it was a cheaply made one, at that. The rough sawn timber siding has shrunk over the years and there are now gaps of nearly an inch between them. It has the original tin roof. The walls in the upstairs bedrooms are made of what looks like a stiff corrugated cardboard with several layers of wallpaper accumulated over the years. The basement is unfinished and damp and could use a good coating of a waterproofing product. There’s just a boatload of work that should be done, but here it sits…held together with spit and love.

I was blessed that my friend Charlotte mowed for me while I was gone. It rained the last several days though so I couldn’t mow till yesterday. I swear I could have used a bailer on it! It was still pretty wet and the grass clumped up bad as I mowed. It kept clogging up the grass chute and I’d have to stop, turn off the mower, clear it out, and start up again. It was in the 90’s yesterday and I had to keep taking breaks. It took five attempts to get the yard done and I didn’t even attempt the area up by the barn. I don’t have a rake here. Well, there may be one up in the barn somewhere but this is snake and spider season so if it’s up there, there it’s staying for now. Mr. FixIt called before he headed to the farm yesterday and I asked if he could bring me a rake. He had to kind of piece one together from parts but it’ll do. As I am writing this, he is out in the yard, raking up those ugly clumps of wet grass so they don’t kill spots in my yard. What a good man!

It sounds like a lot of work, doesn’t it? This farm…this old house…this home of my heart. It is. Things are always breaking or fumbling but I fix them and move on. Yesterday it was the water. I was running a bath and it was sputtering and sent bits of black sediment from the hot water heater. It’s old and fragile. I flushed it out for a while, checked the pump, and checked the heater itself. I think it was from sitting dormant for a month. After I flushed it out it seemed fine. Yes, there’s a lot to do, and it is hard work. But, I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. Farm living suits me. It’s brought a pride into my life I felt lacking most of my adulthood. The kind of pride that comes with working hard and going to bed tired, and happy. ❤️

“Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Twenty-Six..."On Sharing"

Wed, 02 Aug 2017 01:55:19 -0600

There has been a major shift within me this trip. I wasn’t sure going into this vacation how I would react sharing the space that is mine in Colorado with both Mr. Virgo’s memory and Mr. FixIt’s presence. How would everything fit? At home on the farm in West Virginia, Mr. Virgo only occupies space in my mind and heart as well as what few tangible things I have kept that were his. Here, he lives in the mountains, he sits in the sunsets, he whispers in the wind that blows through the trees. He’s everywhere. Would he distract me too much? How would I feel entertaining two men…one very much here, the other very much real but not here?

I took this wonderful man to “meet” Mr. Virgo and I needn’t have worried. He respected my space. He listened intently. He waited patiently. And at the perfect moment, he walked up behind me, wrapped me in his arms and said, “I’m so sorry, Ginny. I know this was so hard for you. You’ve been through so much and you are very brave.” His arms were a comfort. My fingers intertwined with his as I leaned back against him. I felt his warm breath in my hair. For a moment, I remembered what this same position felt like with Mr. Virgo. Then I let it go…like a feather on a breeze…dancing and floating away from me.

Time has allowed me perspective and healing. Choice has brought me ever onward and upward. Prayer has given me strength where there was none. Mr. FixIt has given me…Love. Hope. Trust. Joy. Peace. Companionship. Friendship. Laughter. Stability. Comfort. Contact. Connection. I am grateful. This shift has a lot to do with all of the above. Sharing this space with my new love is helping me to, yet again, redefine its meaning. Redefine who I am…redefine my “status”. I know it’s different for everyone. For me, at four and a half years…it’s a choice. I choose love. It is my purpose in life. It is the one thing I am to practice, to hone my skill at. To emulate in a Christ-like way. Not just my love for Mr. FixIt or Mr. Virgo…but for everyone.

I’ve been asked when I will share a picture of Mr. FixIt with you. And the answer is…not in his lifetime. Not a definable picture, anyway. Distance, maybe. From the back, sure. His hands, definitely. He has the hands of a hard-working man and I love them. But I won’t be sharing his name or his face because those are mine. I share everything else with you…my pain, my fears, my hopes, my joys, my struggles, and my triumphs. I do so without reservation as this is my platform…my purpose. I share to spread love and promote healing. This one great thing…this glimpse into who he really is in real life…is the one tangible thing I will fervently protect.

Yesterday was a day shared with loved ones. My heart is full. ❤️

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Corinthians 13:2-7 NIV

Road Trip, Day Twenty-Four..."In Jesus' Name"

Mon, 31 Jul 2017 01:55:55 -0600

Whew….some Mondays we just have to go to church here at the Ranch. Especially when I’ve heard a sermon like yesterday. Let me tell you a little bit about how God works in my life. There’s a church here in Denver that I really like…Red Rocks Church. It’s very much like my home church in West Virginia…contemporary, progressive, energetic. I love it and couldn’t wait to take Mr. FixIt. Red Rocks Church has four campuses plus a prison outreach. One campus has the pastor live and all the others watch a live feed on the big screen in their respective churches. I usually go to the Arvada campus, but I really wanted Mr. FixIt to hear the sermon live. I was planning to drive down to the Littleton Campus in order to accomplish that. I’m always quick to get ready but yesterday I just couldn’t seem to get it together. I couldn’t believe it when I looked at the clock and saw we would be lucky to make it to the local satellite church. We made a bee line and got there in time to grab a cup of coffee and get seated. As we were walking into the sanctuary, a volunteer said, “You’re in for a treat today…the pastor is here live with an amazing message!” I couldn’t believe it. If we would have left on time to get to the other church, we would have been watching the pastor on the big screen! God fascinates me. His ways are so mysterious. His love is so complete.

The message yesterday was about the Samaritan woman at the well again. The pastor spoke about five words and how they relate to all of us. Pain. Prison. Power. Platform. Purpose. The Samaritan woman had suffered pain…as we all have. She was living in a self-imposed prison of isolation as she avoided interacting with others. Then she had an encounter with Jesus at the well and experienced His power. She used her experiences of Pain, Prison, and Power as her Platform from which she could share her testimony. This allowed her to live her Purpose.

I don’t know about you, but I struggled for nearly sixty years trying to figure out what my purpose is in this life. I hadn’t done a very good job being a wife until my third marriage. I didn’t feel I had been a very good mother, although I tried and I did the best I could with the knowledge and experiences I possessed at the time. It wasn’t till I lost Mr. Virgo and spent three months in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado that I discovered my purpose is to love. To accomplish this, I have built this new life from the ashes of who I was before the fires of grief changed me.

The pastor used an example of someone who has turned her pain into her platform. At seven years old, Gabriella has had more pain than you can imagine. After a diagnosis of leukemia, it has been this innocent child who teaches the doctors and nurses…and, anyone in earshot, really…about Jesus. She comforts her mother when she worries about her and says “Don’t worry…God’s got this!” As they were taking her into surgery to place the port for chemo, this brave little girl only said three words but she said them over and over for two hours before they wheeled her into the OR. “In Jesus’ name…In Jesus’ name…In Jesus’ name.” When the folks from the Make a Wish Foundation contacted Gabs and her parents to find out her wish, she couldn’t think of what to ask for. She didn’t need anything. Finally, after weeks of contemplation, she decided last Saturday what she wanted. She wanted to preach at Red Rocks Church. So, yesterday, this beautiful little angel…just a wisp of a thing in her flower halo…bravely marched out onto the stage in front of hundreds of strangers. She held her notes in one hand, the microphone in the other, and she told us about her friend, Jesus. And how He holds us in the palm of his hand. She said we don’t need to be afraid because when she was afraid before her chemo, it was Jesus who comforted her. She said that was why she had wanted to be “bapatized”…because she loved Jesus. I’m telling you…that was the most powerful service I have ever attended. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place and I was so grateful to have been in the front row to witness it live.

The rest of the day was beautiful. We drove up to the top of Mt. Evans after church. At 14,134 feet elevation, we were quite literally in the clouds. After the power of witnessing the faith of that child, standing on top of the world seemed almost inconsequential. Afterward, we went to Central City for supper and to wait out the Sunday evening traffic returning to Denver. By the time we were back and told our stories of the day to our family, we were spent. Yes, some Mondays I just have to take you to church. This was one. ❤️

“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 ‭14:13-14‬ ‭NIV

#Jesus, #wisdom, #faith

Road Trip: Day Twenty..."Another Day in Paradise"

Wed, 26 Jul 2017 01:55:09 -0600

Last week I reported to you that Mr. Virgo was in my dreams two nights running saying he was leaving me. He appeared again Sunday night. In this dream I found out that he had some sort of neurological problem and that’s why he decided to go on and not try to come back. He was brought to me in a black limousine. They told me he was coming and that I could see him the way he would have looked had he survived the heart attack. When the car pulled up, he rolled down the window and he had obvious neurological damage, yet in the dream, he could still stand. He got out of the limo and looked at me so sad. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He said it was HE who was sorry he had to leave me like that. I pulled away from him and said, “You know how much I love you, right?” He said of course he did. I said, “Well, I’ve met someone wonderful and I love him, too. I can’t leave him now.” His eyes softened and he wrapped me in his arms and whispered into my hair, “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.” And…I woke up. Three times in a week he’s been in my dreams and he hasn’t been here that much in the last four and a half years. I think it’s because I’ve brought Mr. FixIt here to Colorado…turf that, up until now, belonged to Mr. Virgo and me.

It was still dark…the first hint of daylight tinting the eastern sky. I lay there quietly, listening to the soft breathing of this wonderful man I have come to love. “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.” I smiled in the darkness, snuggled closer, and went back to sleep.

We were up bright and early yesterday. Lots to do…doctor’s appointment and pick up the replacement thermostat (it’s still not in after two more stops in the RV dealer). We went out for breakfast then stopped to visit Mr. Virgo’s grave. I left one of the painted rocks that I’ve found recently that said “I love your smile!” It made ME smile. Then I took Mr. FixIt up to Rifle Falls State Park. In all the years I lived here, I had never been there. We hiked up to the top, took lots of pictures, and headed back to town to take my brother out to dinner again. Afterwards, we stopped at the grocery store and ran into Rob and Jordan, two young men from Virginia who had built this funky trailer from scratch and are on a five month trek across the country. They have a YouTube channel called Fantasy Jive ( www.youtube.com/channel/U… ) What an adventure!

A trip to Lowe’s rounded out the day. We needed some wire connectors and wire stripper for the thermostat project. With the groceries put away, we finally had time to sit in our new chairs and listen to the river rushing through the canyon as the sun set. We stayed the last two nights at Glenwood Canyon Resort…one of the most beautiful places to camp in Colorado, in my opinion. While the sites are rather close together, there’s nothing like sitting and staring up at the steep canyon walls directly across the river from your campsite. Trains run through the canyon at all hours, but if you’re like me, they make you smile.

Today we break camp and head on to our next stop on this adventure. Stay tuned to see what we are up to next!❤️

“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.” ‭‭John‬ ‭14:16-17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Nineteen..."The Long Slog"

Tue, 25 Jul 2017 01:55:06 -0600

“Eula Faye” is my F-150…a beauty for sure, but she lacks guts. As I figured, climbing these mountains pulling TOW-Wanda was brutal and pushed her to her limits. I watched fearfully as the transmission temperature steadily climbed, maxing out at 232 degree. I immediately moved off the side of the highway and let her cool back down to her baseline of 194 before starting again. Consequently, it was a very long drive to our campsite on the Western Slope. It was 94 degrees when we unhooked at 3:00. I went in to start the air conditioner to start cooling off the camper when It wouldn’t work…again. It just so happens, we are camping 27 miles from the RV dealer where I bought this camper so I immediately called to see if they were open. We drove straight over and arrived 15 minutes before closing time. We took the old thermostat with us and they ordered us the replacement part. It will arrive by noon today.

I don’t like to say bad things about a business because they could just be having an off day or maybe here was a miscommunication. As we left town yesterday, we stopped at Camper World to get a replacement thermostat as they are a Starcraft Dealer. There were three men behind the parts counter and I got three different answers. The general consensus was the part is obsolete. I couldn’t imagine that to be true as this is a 2015 camper. The young guy went back in the back and brought a thermostat us and said, “This will work.” I looked at the thermostat and back at him. My thermostat has a six wire harness. The one he brought up was nine. When I pointed this out he said, “Just don’t hook up three of them.” Right. I ignored him and turned to the one closest to me who was at least tying to help me by looking up the actual part number. Then he told me it wasn’t in his computer so it must be obsolete. I asked him if the company who manufactured the thermostat had a replacement part number. He had no idea how to contact them. Finally, I excused myself, spent fifteen minutes researching on Google and found the approved replacement thermostat from RVUpgrades.com. I did buy two padded club chairs that are much more comfortable than the ones I bought last winter. Then I left.

Hopefully the new part from the dealer on the Western Slope will work and we’ll have the AC back. Fortunately, the temperature cooled off enough to made sleeping more comfortable, and it is supposed to cool off later in the week.

We took my brother to dinner last night. It was so, so good to see him! We’ll visit again today. I know this isn’t a profound and insightful post. My trip posts are just there to let you know what I’m up to, places I think you might be interested in, and the wonderful people I meet along the way. Like Rick…the helpful hardware man at Ace. Rick has been following Marshmallow Ranch for at least two years. When I pulled into the neighborhood Ace store yesterday to top off my propane tanks, Rick came out to help me and greet me with a great big hug! He was so excited to meet Mr. FixIt. We stood and visited for quite some time. When I came back out from paying for the propane, he asked if he could pray with us for safety for our trip and blessings for our relationship. I went to the truck and got Mr. Fixit and we stood right there in the parking lot of the Ace Hardware and prayed together. It was very touching. So, even though the truck struggled, even though the AC wouldn’t work, even though it was hot and sticky trying to sleep…I let it all roll off me like water off a duck’s back. Blessings abound! ❤️

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Seventeen..."Family First"

Sun, 23 Jul 2017 03:55:15 -0600

I’ve known Mr. FixIt for nearly fifty years. He’s gregarious and fun and funny. He’s everyone’s best friend and, just like me, he has never known a stranger. He fits into every crowd, can talk on a number of subjects, and always has something to contribute to conversations. When I found myself with the opportunity to be in a relationship with my long time friend, of course I jumped at the chance. I had no doubt that he would fit right into my family. It’s like he’s always been a part of us and I couldn’t be happier. You know, Mr. Virgo wasn’t my first marriage. There were two before him. My daughter laughs and calls me Elizabeth…as in Taylor. It wasn’t my plan to have this many men in my life. It was my destiny.

Yesterday was the best day! Family time, time spent exploring Fort Collins, and then the other grandparents joined us in the afternoon. My daughter and son-in-law went to a wedding and the grandparents and grandchildren stayed home and cooked a nice dinner. Afterwards we all sat on the deck and visited as the sun set. We watched the bats come out and pick off the mosquitoes. We watched the neighborhood rabbits forage in the overgrown yard of an abandoned house across the street. Just after dusk, we heard the calls of a pack of coyotes beyond the river. The oppressive heat of the day gave way to the first cool breeze of the night and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. I try to spend every moment I can sitting outdoors when the weather permits it. Winters seem so dreadfully long when I can’t go out after dark and enjoy the front porch.

Today is an action packed day of fun with the grandchildren then we head back to Denver to prepare for our camping adventure that begins on Monday. I can’t wait to tell you about the campgrounds and all the sites we will be visiting in the coming week. I get to see my brother and my friends and make more introductions. I am so blessed! ❤️

“These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.”
Deuteronomy 6:6-7 NIV

Road Trip: Day Sixteen..."Tour Director"

Sat, 22 Jul 2017 01:55:38 -0600

I get the biggest kick out of showing people places they’ve never seen…especially when it’s a place I love so much. Colorado was my home for forty years and it’s truly spectacular. Mr. FixIt has never been here so I’m having a blast watching him explore. Yesterday we went up to Rocky Mountain National Park. We no sooner got there till the skies opened up and a major thunderstorm blew in. I pulled into the parking area at Sheep Lake and turned off the engine. Mr. FixIt asked what we were looking at. I pointed up high in the mountains and said, “See that lightning? That’s where we’re going. I’m going to wait till it breaks up a bit.” He looked up at the high peaks and I could read a lot on his face. “Cool!” “Man, that’s high!” “I’ve got the coolest girlfriend on the planet!” Well, ok…I could be projecting that last part. lol

Once the storm let up a little, we proceeded on through the park and turned right to go up Old Fall River Road. To me, that’s the only way to approach Trail Ridge Road from the east. We drove past the site where the flash flood several years ago brought down an alluvial fan for the record books. Shortly after the falls at the fan, you jog to the right and start up the mountain on a narrow, single lane dirt road with no guard rails. Majesty comes into view at every turn, be it waterfalls or sheer drop offs, abundant wildlife or above-treeline vistas. Mr. FixIt said his neck hurt from flipping his head back and forth trying to take it all in. The road is seven-and-a-half miles long and with all the stops and pulling over to let the faster cars by, it took five hours. But, that included a stop for coffee at the restaurant at the top of Trail Ridge Road. It was 49 degrees and really windy at the top. You seriously feel like you’re on top of the world up there. Mr. FixIt was beside himself!

We are staying with my kids, grandkids, and son-in-law’s parents in a historic hotel and have the whole place to ourselves. We got back in time last night to grill burgers and have salad and corn on the cob. Summer is such a wonderful time of year. Mr. FixIt kept thanking me all day for showing him such a good time. It is so incredibly sweet when you’re on the happy side of life, isn’t it? To be appreciated…and told so??? What a gift that we get to give away to each other! Life is so good! ❤️

“In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭95:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Fifteen "Focus"

Fri, 21 Jul 2017 01:55:09 -0600

Moose

I am in my fifth year writing this blog. The original page was intended to showcase art jewelry I was making out of antique silverware and maps. Then Mr. Virgo died and it morphed into a grief blog. I dealt solely with the monumental task of putting one foot in front of the other and surviving that horrid loss. In an effort to cope, I put something joyful in front of me in the form of a small camper and a group of spunky women who liked to travel and have adventures. The focus gradually shifted from the darkness of death to the possibility of living after loss and eventually I started breathing again. With each stage of grief, with each right of passage, with each new thing, the focus of my writing has shifted to accommodate the change du jour.

A reader commented yesterday that my site has “lost its focus”. I had to sit down and give myself a good self-examination. For what seemed like an eternity, the only thing I could talk about was pain and death and grief and darkness. Thank God that’s not the focus of all my writing any more. It means I’m healing. So, what IS the “focus of my site”? Trailers, camping, travel, Girl Campers and Sisters on the Fly? Not entirely. My family in Colorado and West Virginia? Somewhat. The farm and the cats? Sometimes. God and how He has touched my life and moved mountains? Much of the time. My writing is all of these things and more. I’m part storyteller, part preacher, part analyst, part therapist. I’m part comedienne, part realist, part widow, part mom. Because that’s what life is…it’s 10,000 things all at once so I write about the 10,000 things and try to make some sense of it all. Because out there…somewhere out there is a widow that’s hurting, a wife who was left, a child who was molested. And somewhere in here is a story that just might help one of them, whether it seems unfocused or not.

While the subject matter of my blog has indeed varied over the years, my focus has not. My focus is to help people in any way I can. To be of service. To quote John Keats, “Love is my religion…”. I will admit, writer’s block has me occasionally writing diary-like posts a la Bridget Jones. And this new, wild and wonderful love story I’ve got going on here is distracting, to say the least. I take constructive criticism to heart and I will try to write more focused essays in the future. I have no problem hearing constructive criticism. We all have room for improvement. ❤️

“Whoever heeds life-giving correction will be at home among the wise.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭15:31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Fourteen..."My Person"

Thu, 20 Jul 2017 01:55:37 -0600

I’ve been holding my breath for months now. I wanted to talk to you about it, but I couldn’t. It was really complicated and it was scary and it had to do with Mr. FixIt and I hadn’t told you about him yet. I was still trying to figure out how to introduce a new character into our little story here without changing the dynamic so much that you ran away in droves. Come to find out, I needn’t have worried about that. Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive of my new love and I am so grateful. So, now I can tell you the other half of the story.

Mr. FixIt and I hadn’t been seeing each other romantically very long when he had an annual physical and some blood tests came back abnormal. The doctor wanted to wait three months and then repeat the lab work and this time it was even worse. He referred us to a specialist and Mr. FixIt had a series of tests. One of the possible diagnoses was leukemia. My heart both sank through the floor and jumped out of my chest. This was my biggest fear…that I would fall in love with this wonderful man and be over-the-moon happy only to have him get sick and die on me. Leukemia. Just thinking the word made me physically ill. And Mr. FixIt was flat out devastated that he just found happiness and the rug could get pulled out from under us. He hated that this scared me to death. It scared him, too.

He had a bone marrow biopsy and after waiting three weeks, we finally heard the news we had been praying for. It is NOT leukemia! Thank you, Jesus! That’s the good news. The bad news is we still don’t know exactly what it is, because there IS something going on. But our doctor contacted the specialist at West Virginia University and they both agreed to watch and wait six months and repeat the tests then.

I let out my breath. This man has become so important to me. He has stolen my heart. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We’ve always been great friends. That came first. But to fall in love, to open my heart again and to love so deeply after the profound loss of Mr. Virgo…only to lose again? I couldn’t bear the thought. I prayed…fervently. I asked others to pray…unspoken prayers, specific prayers, prayers for healing. “Please, don’t let it be cancer!” “Please heal him.” “If he’s sick, let it be something easily controlled and non-life threatening.” Denying. Bargaining. In his favor, Mr. FixIt is extremely healthy, walks 5-6 miles a day, has purposefully lost sixty pounds, and eats a healthy diet. I can’t help but think, whatever this is, it can’t be too awfully bad or he wouldn’t be this healthy. So I’ll breathe. I will relax a little. I didn’t realize how wound up I was till I heard the doctor on the other end of the line in our phone conference Tuesday.

And now, my sweetheart is here with me! Oh…standing in the greeting area of DIA yesterday, my heart leapt with joy when I saw this handsome man, this lean and lanky guy with the graying red hair, my best friend in the whole wide world coming up the escalator! I could hardly wait to get a hold of him. Our good news of the day before underlining the poignancy of the moment. What would I have done? What if it would have been the worst case scenario? It is not unreasonable for my widow-mind to go there because I’ve been there before. Well…I’ve had a little time to think about those “what ifs”. And I’ll tell you what. Our love is long term. Platonic for the majority of our lives…romantic for only the last few months. It doesn’t matter. When you love someone, and you are dealt a blow, there is only one thing to do…you just hold hands and walk into the fire. Together.

We are grateful we have each other at this time in our lives. We celebrate this wonderful chance at love. We thank God for his bountiful blessings. We put our trust in Him for He has plans for us. ❤️

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”” ‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11-14‬ ‭NIV

Road Trip: Day Thirteen..."In Him"

Wed, 19 Jul 2017 01:55:30 -0600

The phone dinged. I had a text.

“Are you awake?”

7:30am on vacation. A Tuesday.

“Yes!”

“I have to bring the van back and pick up my car and I’m stopping at Starbucks. You want something?”

OMGosh! I love this woman…daughter or not.

“Yes, please!!!”

Daughter #1 is a busy woman. Even though she is technically “off” on summer break, her oldest is on swim team and practices eight times a week. She’s helping her BFF remodel a kitchen. She carts her youngest to this camp or that. She took a whole passel of kids to a concert Monday night. She’s organizing a cleaning a house that is a challenge. She’s always ready at the drop of a hat to be someplace, help someone, do something. And yesterday morning, that something was to curl up on the twin bed in my slide out, coffee in hand, for an hour and a half of uninterrupted conversation with her mom.

I miss this. I miss my babies and their activities. Big grew five inches since I was here at Christmas. Little at least two. Their hair is long, their knowledge increased, braces are gone. At the same time, I’ve found peace and love on a farm in West Virginia and I can’t imagine not living there right now. So, I continue to come here twice a year, summer and Christmas. I did suggest perhaps next summer everyone can come visit us!

I met one of my Sisters on the Fly friends for lunch and walked around the mall for some exercise. I heard on the news yesterday that it was something like the 23rd day in a row of 90 degrees or above here in Colorado. At least it’s a dry heat. It’s much easier to exercise in the mall than outside. It turned out to be another wonderful day.

I have learned that when I am in the Word…when I am God-centric…when I am Faith-focused…I have peace. A peace that surpasses all understanding. This is supernatural. This is standing in Grace. This is Joy. I am so grateful. ❤️

““I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Twelve..."He Sent Me Birds"

Tue, 18 Jul 2017 01:55:04 -0600

Sometimes it takes a couple days of cogitation before I recognize a sign. You’ve heard me say many times that Mr. Virgo sends me birds to let me know he is near. Strictly speaking, souls in Heaven have no connection to us here on earth. Dogma dictates our loved ones cannot see or contact us. I can’t quote you a scripture to support this, but I would not doubt there is one. That being said, since the Discovery Channel has not sent a team of investigators and a film crew to the other side and brought back photographic evidence of what Heaven is like, I prefer to believe our loved ones can and do watch out for us. It gives me hope. I physically saw Mr. Virgo’s spirit leave his body. I know for a fact the spiritual realm is real. Therefore, I believe he sends me birds.

The first such occurrence happened early on after Mr. Virgo died unexpectedly of a heart attack. It was late summer and I had recently returned from my three month sojourn in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado. For the first eighteen months, I brought a good sized rock to place around the perimeter of Mr. Virgo’s grave. I had just placed several rocks from my trip and sat back in the car next to his grave so I could get out of the sun. I was overcome with grief and laid my head on the steering wheel and sobbed…that loud, raspy, snotty cry that comes in the early weeks and months after such a profound loss. As I started to regain some control, I heard a bird…fairly close…singing. I looked to my left, and there…on the boundary post not three feet from me…was a mountain bluebird. He was looking straight at me, singing his bluebird song, and tilting his head this way and that as he watched me…intently. I held my breath, afraid to move because I didn’t want to scare him away. He stayed there for the longest time, then finally flew off into a thicket across the road.

For months, every time I went to the cemetery, bluebirds would come. First one, then two…then five, eight, twelve! Flocks of bluebirds! One warm spring day a year after Mr. Virgo’s death, I had the door open and my feet propped up on the door handle. Suddenly, three bluebirds swooped down and landed on the top of the open door. Two more flew in and rested on the side view mirror. I was stunned! As I traveled, birds would come sit near me. One morning in Missouri, as I was programming my GPS, I heard a tap, tap, tapping on the driver’s side window. I looked and there was a goldfinch sitting on the little edge of door, tapping on the glass. This has continued on and on…for four and a half years.

Saturday night, I had a dream. A nightmare, really. Mr. Virgo is seldom in my dreams. As a matter of fact, my dream life has largely vanished since his death. But Saturday night, he came and sat on my bed. He looked at me and said he was leaving. I woke up in tears. It felt like a “breaking up with you” kind of leaving. It tugged at the far corners of the abandonment issues I have largely put to rest. It didn’t feel good and made me a little sad. Then, Sunday night…the owls came. Two BIG Great Horned Owls…in the daylight…in a highly urban area…50 feet from me. They sat there in the tree for twenty minutes or so…softly hooting…when first one, then the other, soared on silent wings off to another area. It didn’t really occur to me that Mr. Virgo could have sent those owls…until the second dream.

Sunday night, he came again. This time he was…softer somehow. Hazy. Ethereal. His voice was thinner…farther off. Again, Mr. Virgo told me he was going away. This time it felt…kinder, gentler. I woke up and lay there in the dark. This didn’t feel like abandonment. This felt like putting the binding on a quilt, tucking the ends in neat and tidy before placing the anchor stitch. Mr. Virgo was saying goodbye. I’ve felt him with me many times in the last four and a half years. Little has seen him. She told me every time he looks at me, he smiles. She was six at the time. I think he knows I’m really, truly ok. I think he knows I’m safe with Mr. FixIt. I think he knows he doesn’t have to watch over me anymore. Does this mean my grief is “over”? No…it means it’s morphed into yet another form. This shape-shifting beast has been largely tamed at this point. It will raise its head every now and again, but for the most part…it is healed. Scarred, but healed. Maybe this has more to do with ME letting go.

I will always notice the birds and I will smile in remembrance. But, I will never again think of them as coming from Mr. Virgo. ❤️

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Eleven..."You Are Worthy"

Mon, 17 Jul 2017 01:55:28 -0600

Ok, we’re going to church here in a little bit…fair warning. But first, I want to share something cool that happened. As I settled in TOW-Wanda last night after a fun-filled day with the family, I heard the soft hoot of an owl. A Great Horned Owl, to be precise. I jumped up and quietly opened the camper door only to see a pair of huge owls sitting in the tree about 50-60 feet away from where I stood…in awe, I might add. This is not something one sees ordinarily. Not in the daylight and not in a large urban area. I wish Little could have been here…she is really into Harry Potter right now. She would have loved to see the owls.

Little went to church with me and really had a wonderful time. She enjoyed the worship team. She brought up points from the sermon during the day and told me I need to take her whenever I go there. We went to a friend’s house in the afternoon to help her paint her kitchen then, after a little quiet time in the afternoon, we attended a graduation party. It was a beautiful day.

Yesterday’s sermon was about the Samaritan woman at the well. The story goes, Jesus is waiting by a well while his disciples went for food. It was noon when a Samaritan woman came to the well to draw water. Jesus asked her to draw a drink for him and she objected. Jews and Samaritans did not mix company. The pastor has, of course, read this passage countless times, but recent events altered his interpretation. Last week, he and his family went on a trip to Africa to check on Missionaries they are working with. One morning, they went to the well at the base of a mountain and it was crowded with women and children from the villages above…filling their water containers to haul back up the mountain to their homes. Just to survive. And the next day and the next would find them doing the same thing. One would think the drudgery of hauling heavy loads of water back up the mountainside would create a dismal mood at the well. But, that wasn’t the case. There was much laughter, hugging, the sharing of news and stories among this community of women. This was their only social outlet…their only time to get the love and support we all so desperately need in our lives. Then they headed home, their containers full, till they descended the next morning.

As the pastor watched this activity, he thought of the Samaritan woman and a line from the scripture struck him in a way it never had before. It said the woman came to the well at about noon. Now, noon is the hottest time of the day. No one would come to the well at such a time and try to haul heavy containers of water. Why would she have chosen to come when the others were not there? What was going on in her life that would cause her to forego a sense of community. His answer lay in the rest of the scripture. The Samaritan woman had been married and divorced five times. She was living with a man who was not her husband. She was well aware of what the others thought of her and she just couldn’t face the scrutiny, the judgement, the name-calling and whispers. She was ashamed. She felt unworthy. Till she had a chance encounter with Jesus and He taught her that her worth comes from God…not from the opinions of others. That she was just as worthy in His eyes as any other.

How many times have you felt unworthy? How many times have you avoided interactions with others out of fear of condemnation? How many times have you shut down simply because it was easier than facing what others throw at you? I know I spent far too many years feeling unworthy of love, of respect, of kindness. The child of an alcoholic, the victim of childhood sexual abuse at the hands of two different men…these things set me up for low self-esteem and all the resultant destructive behaviors one does to cope. It wasn’t until I felt the unconditional love of a Father I had never known that I began to recognize my worth. I believe God sent Mr. Virgo to talk some sense into me and love some of that pain away.

You are worthy. You are loved. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you are “less than” or “unloveable”. It simply is not true. God doesn’t want you to wait till you have your act together to come talk with Him. He loves you exactly where you are, exactly how you are, in spite of what is going on in your life. That is the message from the sermon yesterday and I just felt I needed to share that with you today. It’s Motivation Monday…time to straighten up your crown and own your worth today, dear ones. ❤️

“With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may bring to fruition your every desire for goodness and your every deed prompted by faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.” ‭‭2 Thessalonians‬ ‭1:11-12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Ten..."She Is My Crown"

Sun, 16 Jul 2017 01:55:59 -0600

Dear God in Heaven…thank you for bringing this small human into my life! She and her sister are the delights of my life. Yesterday was our semi-annual “Nana and Little’s Day of Fun!” Each grandchild gets to pick and choose what they want to do with Nana, where and what they want to eat, and how the day and night will play out. Big is thirteen now so we pretty much go shopping and have lunch although last summer she did want to go to the Denver Aquarium with me. Little is only ten and she is still all about the fun we can have. Her day is always centered around shopping, doing a craft or baking, and a sleepover in TOW-Wanda. She told everyone at the mall what the significance of the day was and what we’ve done and what we’re going to do. She’s like me…gregarious, funny, creative. Her sister is the thinker, brilliant, caring…strong and tender.

Little always comes up with the funniest things. She is deep and profound and hilariously, seriously funny. Our first stop was 2nd & Charles…a bookstore where you can sell or trade your old books, movies, CD’s…even vinyl. There are three bins out front filled with free stuff. Yesterday, I picked up a book by Michael Moore, a cookbook with gluten free recipes, a Dr. Who Christmas Ornament still in the box, and Audubon’s Field Guide on Insects and Spiders of North America. Not a bad haul. As little and I rummaged through what was left in the bins, she came across a coloring activity sheet from either a Sunday School or Vacation Bible School. Jesus was standing with several children and someone had placed a sticker over his mouth. Little turned to me and said…“Nana…I can’t tell if this is Jesus or a Jedi.” For some reason that just totally cracked us both up and the more we laughed, the funnier it got. Joy…sheer joy. This is my reward for being puked on at 3:00am…for putting up with a sassy pants teenaged girl…for the pain of letting her grow and get married and move to the opposite end of the country. This. This sweet child and her sister.

Last night was dinner out with the other grandparents and a viewing of the first Harry Potter movie with popcorn. We “camped” in the driveway in TOW-Wanda. This morning is church with my girl. My heart is so full. ❤️

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Nine..."Chill"

Sat, 15 Jul 2017 01:55:14 -0600

While traveling in a camper, one must stay on top of housekeeping tasks or things soon spiral out of control. Living in a small space requires planning and organization…both monumental tasks for this poor Gemini mind of mine. I would just as soon drop everything and chase butterflies, but the pile of dishes in the sink and the basket of laundry in the corner were calling my name yesterday. Actually, I don’t really mind a day of puttering around the “house”. It gives me ample time to visit, contemplate, plan, and write. There are some things I’ve wanted to research online the last week or so and this little bit of down time allowed me to do that.

This fall, Dominion Gas will begin construction on a compressor station about a mile or so beyond the back property line of the farm. I’ve driven past them and they are noisy beasts but I’ve never really known how they work or what they are used for. A week or two ago, I posted a video here of a jack pump on a gas well head. These pumps feed gas in small lines to a larger compressor station that presses the gas, squeezing out the air molecules, and allowing the gas to flow through larger lines. Without the compressor, pipelines would have to be huge in order to accommodate the volume of gas that needs to flow through them. The problems lie in some of the safety issues involved in mechanically compressing highly volatile natural gas. Compressor station and large gas line explosions are not unheard of. There was a large gas line explosion on I-77 a couple of years ago and it literally melted the highway and damaged an overpass. There are some issues with health effects of these compressor stations and I’ll be doing more research on that.

There are a lot of things that can go wrong with something like a compressor station. There are a lot of things that can go wrong with every scenario we face in life. After I do due diligence and I’m satisfied with the answers to the questions I have about this new construction so close to my family farm, I’ll be able to let that go and deal with the next thing. This was not always the case with me. I spent far too much of my life walking a tightrope of fear. Fear of the unknown…the what-ifs…kept me paralyzed a lot of the time. I have elected to opt out of so many things that could very easily have brought me much joy and certainly could have broadened my horizons simply because I was afraid of what could go wrong. I think there are many of us who do that. I think being a widow could have certainly exacerbated my fears. As a matter of fact…it did for much of the first year, year and a half. I still have to make a conscious effort to make the choice to be excited about what can go right.

I used to be so pessimistic. I think a lot of my fear was driven by my need to be in control at all times. If I always exercised caution, we would all be safe. If I could keep myself and those I love from doing anything vaguely dangerous, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of loss or injury. Then Mr. Virgo died. And I realized I had no control. Not even a semblance of control. I can’t keep bad things from happening to those I love or to myself for that matter. All I can do is pray for safety and look for the ways every situation might be used for joy and for the glory of God. Walking a path of love and joy and hope is far more fulfilling than looking for every way in which things can go wrong.

And, things WILL go wrong. It is, after all, the nature of things. It’s how we react when things go wrong that makes a difference in the peace we can feel in this life. Let go. Let God do His thing. Exercise caution…let go of fear. A fine line. A tightrope. But one well worth practicing. ❤️

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise— in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭56:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Eight..."What a Feeling!"

Fri, 14 Jul 2017 01:55:27 -0600

There’s nothing like feeling really good after feeling really bad. I was so miserable Wednesday…too tired, too much junk food, too much altitude, not enough water and I was laid low. Nancy, one of my Colorado readers, sent me a message yesterday first thing and suggested I try to find some “Altitude Adjustment”…a nutritional supplement that helps your body adjust to the changes our bodies go through at elevation. I don’t know the science behind it, but if they told me twirling a chicken over my head would have made me feel better, I’d have been heading to the nearest barnyard. I was willing to try anything because I didn’t want to spend another day miserable. Nancy even offered to meet me halfway to deliver some if I needed her to. I called the number on the back of the package from the picture she sent and got the name of the nearest store that carried Altitude Adjustment and took it right away. I drank three bottles of water. My son-in-law’s mom insisted I eat something and made me an egg sandwich. And within an hour, I felt great. I spent the day out with my daughter and grandchildren and last night we all got together to celebrate birthdays and an anniversary. It was a great day!

Also, my latest post on the Sisters on the Fly Blog series “Getting Bolder” went live yesterday. It is always so exciting to see that! You can catch it here…

www.sistersonthefly.com/getting-b…

Thank you for your kind words of support yesterday. I never feel entirely alone with God..and all of you out there! ❤️

“But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.”” ‭‭2 Chronicles‬ ‭15:7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Five..."So Near, Yet So Far"

Tue, 11 Jul 2017 01:55:56 -0600

When I hooked up my camper Sunday night at the Kan-Do Kampground in Montgomery City, Missouri, the temp was in the 90’s and I was hot and tired. However, no matter what I tried, the air conditioning in TOW-Wanda would not come on. Therefore, the only things I had to cool me off were two fans and the exhaust fan in the bathroom. That drew the heat out somewhat, but still, I didn’t get to sleep till around midnight. I woke up at 2:30 yesterday morning and try as I might, further sleep eluded me. I laid there till the sky started to lighten around 5:00 then I got up and started putting stuff away, got dressed, closed the windows, and unhooked the camper from the water and electric. I pulled out at 6:15 and headed east in the cool of the day…73 degrees. It was rather windy on the plains so my top speed was 55 most of the day. Gas/pit stops were brief and I finally pulled into a rest area around 12:30 to stretch out for a 30 minute power nap. Only problem was…it was 92 degrees by then and the camper was stifling. All of a sudden, I had a brilliant idea. Gail, one of the Girl Campers had a little fan she let me borrow the second night at Beaver Creek State Park when I didn’t have electricity. The fan had a small drawer that you put ice in and the air cooled as it blew over it. I went to my freezer in my camper, took out two frozen bottles of water and a frozen cooler insert and sat them in front of my battery powered fan. It worked like a charm and offered me about 30 minutes of cool air which was delightful. Once I started losing the chill, I popped everything back in the freezer, put the fan away, and got back on the road. I drove till 4:30pm and just didn’t have it in me to go another five hours from Hays, Kansas to the Denver suburbs. I pulled into a name-brand hotel, negotiated my best deal, parked the camper, and was safely ensconced in my room by 5:00…a bubble bath drawn. The temperature was a staggering 100 degrees and I refused to take the chance of finding a campsite and not having AC. The campsites aren’t great out here anyway. I brought some food in from the kitchen in the camper and wrote this early so I could roost with the chickens. Today is another day. I’ll get there rested instead of having to sleep all day. Today is Daughter #1’s birthday!!! The truck and camper did fine yesterday, but I had forgotten how much work this big camper is to pull. I’m looking forward to having the little vintage camper refurbished and I can take it instead of this big one. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow! Thank you, Lord…for the travel mercies thus far. ❤️

“in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:6‬ ‭NIV‬

Road Trip: Day 4

Mon, 10 Jul 2017 01:55:17 -0600

This is the part of the trip where I’m always ready to be there yet I have a long way to go. It would be one thing if I were just meandering along without an agenda, but I’ve got grandbabies to see and I’m ready to be there NOW! Between not being able to drive over 60 (you shouldn’t drive over 65 while towing anyway!) and all the construction zones at 45-55mph, this trip feels like it takes forever. I always stop every four hours, stretch, get a bite to eat, use the facilities, and stretch out on the bed for a power nap of 30 minutes or so. When I stopped at 5:30 yesterday, I walked around to the passenger side of the camper and about a third of the trim over the wheel well was flapping in the breeze. I took it off then went to Walmart for a package of nuts and bolts to screw it back on securely. By the time I was done with all that, it was after 8:00. I started watching for signs for campgrounds and before long I had a site secured in Kan-Do Kampground. I really enjoyed speaking with the owner at checkin…she was a hoot!

It was pretty hot and stuffy when I pulled in so as soon as I got the electric hooked up, I flipped on the AC and…nothing. The switch “hesitated” a couple of times last year so I imagine it needs fixed. It seems like an awful lot of “bugs” are showing up this year. I don’t know if that’s normal or not, but I don’t like it.

Church yesterday morning was very nice. A lot of people attended. I’m going to try to get an early start this morning but don’t know if I’ll make it all the way to Denver today. Safety first! ❤️

“But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.”” ‭‭2 Chronicles‬ ‭15:7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Road Trip: Day Three

Sun, 09 Jul 2017 01:55:13 -0600

I had to say goodbye for now to my Girl Camper friends yesterday morning. I hit the road about 8:30 after enjoying coffee and breakfast burritos with the early birds. Hookup was easy and after doing my safety check and checking the air in my tires (thank you Jeremy and Stephany of RV Family Travel Atlas!) I was on the road in no time. I did find this new truck can’t tow nearly as fast or stable as the ole one. It must have something to do with that rear axle ration. It was still a little windy yesterday so that might have been a contributing factor. I can’t drive much over 60mph with this truck but then again, you shouldn’t tow over 65 anyway so it’s probably just as well. Maybe I’ll look at trucks in Colorado. The 373 rear axle ratio is much more available out there.

I really took it easy yesterday. At lunch time, I pulled into a rest area and had lunch and a little power nap. I stopped at Camping World and bought extension mirrors so I can see around the back of my camper. I also bought some covers for the bedroom windows. The first thing I did when I bought this camper is take out the valances and shades. I hated them. But, when I travel alone and nap in the rest areas by the truckers, I’d just as soon not be so visible from the outside. I bought some Command Hooks and two cat litter mats that were the perfect size. I stuck the hooks on the outside of the camper and hung the mats over the windows on the outside. That way I still get air circulation when I open the windows. Brilliant!

I pulled into another rest area at supper time and ate and stretched out again. I guess I needed to catch up with a little sleep. One thing I do when I drive is think about stuff. And I talk things over with God. It’s our special alone time. I was telling him how much I hated missing church this weekend. Especially since our pastor is coming back from vacation today. My plan for driving this trip was drive, stop, eat, nap, repeat. I really had no intention of camping in RV parks. When I was in Camping World, I saw the new RV Campground directory…their three inch thick book listing all the campgrounds that give a Good Sam discount as well as many other. I’ve always found it very helpful. When I woke up from my nap, Spirit told me to look in the book for the closest RV park. I know better than to question so I did and there was one three or four exits away called…get this…Grandpa’s Farm Campground. There were others, but that’s the one that jumped out at me. I called. They had one site left. I took it and was there in ten minutes. There was a group of about thirty people out on the front lawn playing bingo as I pulled in. Located right on the bank of a rushing stream, the sites were nicely spaced down at the end where I was parked. Full hookup with Wifi was $34.50 with the Good Sam discount, tax included. As I was signing in, I noticed on the map “This campground is run by a Christian family.” Camp Church is at 8:30 in the morning…free coffee and donuts at 8:15! Isn’t God good to provide a safe, clean place with church in the great outdoors?

I took advantage of the full hookups to do some housekeeping last night. The tanks needed emptying and I hooked up to city water, turned on the hot water heater, and took probably the best shower of my life. And that did me in for the night. I always write my posts at night before I go to bed. I have to get into the Word when I write and search for the perfect scripture to go with it so this becomes my evening meditation. Another day safe, and closer to my babies. Mr. FixIt arrived safely in Florida last evening so I am very grateful for that as well. Have a happy Sunday! ❤️

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:13‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Fun Around a Campfire

Sat, 08 Jul 2017 01:55:46 -0600

Traveling on a cross-country road trip, you must be flexible whenever possible. Yesterday’s forecast had severe thunderstorm warnings off and on all day with winds predicted to top 50mph. I don’t know if you have ever driven in winds like that or not, but it is ill-advised to do so while towing a camper. I figured if I was going to be overtaken by severe storms, I would just as soon be in a campground with a bunch of girls I know so I stayed put another night. Today is another day. As it turns out, I would have driven right through those bad storms as they were right along the way I would have been traveling so it’s a good thing I stayed where I was.

Yesterday was a lovely, lazy day filled with naps and reading, conversation and laughter, and plenty of good food. Too much good food. I did have to move my camper…twice. I had only reserved a site for one night and it was booked for last night. I moved and set up at another site but didn’t think to go online and reserve it. I just filled out the reservation form. After I got everything set up, I took a nap then got a call from the park employees telling me the site I was in had just gotten booked. So, off I went again. Unfortunately, this one wasn’t long enough to stay hooked up so I had to disconnect. That’s ok…I’m a pro at hooking up and unhooking this trailer now. It’s no big deal.

The purpose of stopping here to camp just a few hours from the farm was to surprise the head Girl Camper, Janine Pettit, and her good friend, Mary Brennan Morey, as they begin a four week tour of several national parks, including Yellowstone and Glacier. If you haven’t checked out the Girl Camper Facebook page or the Girl Camper podcast series, you really should. Not only are they informative, but they are just plain fun! I filmed Janine yesterday doing her F-150 Fitness Routine that she learned from MizzFitness herself, Bianca Jade. Janine is going to stay fit on the road by doing this routine every day as she explores the highways and byways of America.

There’s nothing like spending time with other women who are camping enthusiasts. Sharing knowledge, stories, and camaraderie is such a bonding experience and we forge life-long friendships over the campfire. I never would have dreamed how important my girlfriends would turn out to be at this stage of my life. ❤️

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command.”

‭‭John‬ ‭15:12-14‬ ‭NIV

On the Road Again!

Fri, 07 Jul 2017 01:55:40 -0600

Oh, I love a good surprise! Some of the local Girl Campers gathered to surprise our fearless leader, Head Girl Camper Janine Pettit yesterday. She and fellow Girl Camper Mari pulled into the campground to find half our crew sitting around the picnic table. The other half arrive tomorrow. Janine was so excited…she jumped out of her truck and squealed and did the happy dance right there. She called me to catch up Wednesday and I never let on I’d be waiting for her yesterday when she pulled in. I told her I was leaving for Colorado instead. What a fun surprise!

Camping in the rain. It’s sloppy and chilly and such a respite from the intense heat and humidity we’ve had this past week. I really don’t mind it. I didn’t unhook the camper as I am more than likely heading west this morning…depending on the weather. If it looks like severe storms in the Midwest, I may stay here one more day. I love sleeping to the sound of rain on a camper roof! I hardly slept Wednesday night in anticipation of leaving.

Mr. FixIt is heading to Florida today. While we miss each other when we’re apart, I love how supportive he is of my writing and travel. I explained when we first started dating that he would have to share me with the world. I told him about my travels and speaking engagements. He did two things. First, he told me if I ever need someone to carry my bags, he’s my man. And second…he went out and got an iPhone so we can FaceTime while we’re apart. I like seeing him every day. Ahhh…new love. It is a beautiful thing!

I’ll keep you apprised of my travels as I move along. Oh, I love a road trip! ❤️

“I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong— that is, that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭1:11-12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

A Room With A View

Wed, 05 Jul 2017 01:55:46 -0600

The last few nights have been insufferably hot and muggy in the farmhouse. There is a room air conditioner in the living room, but unless you’re sleeping on the couch, it doesn’t effectively cool down the house and ends up running up the electric bill to no avail. The best alternative is TOW-Wanda. Equipped with fans and open windows, it’s been pretty darned comfortable out there. I will miss this view of the bank along the driveway here at the farm. The lush green of West Virginia summers may bring bugs and humidity, but the foliage is a sight to see any given day of the week. Colorado is semi-arid so it is a sharp contrast from here. At least it’s a dry heat, right?

I emptied out the belly of the camper yesterday and cleaned the floors. I reorganized the contents of the big tub of odds and ends I keep down there. After repacking, I cleaned out the fridge, scrubbed the floors and vacuumed the carpets. The pantry needs vacuumed and wiped out then restocked. The bathroom needs a good scrubbing and I need to organize the storage under the bed and in various cabinets. Since this new truck doesn’t have the torque the old one had, I need to be more conscious about my weight.

I’ve made a list of last minute items for the trip. I’ll go into town for those today. Tomorrow I head out on another segment of The Grand Adventure. The longest Mr. FixIt and I have been separated was when I went to Colorado for a month at Christmas. We didn’t like it one bit. I so wanted to tell you about that homecoming back then but it was not the right time. I can tell you now. I flew in and out of Dayton because it is SO much cheaper and my dear friend Cindy lets me park at her house so I don’t have to pay for parking. That drive to the farm from Dayton felt like it took forever. I knew Mr. FixIt was at the farm waiting for me and I could hardly contain myself. It was after dark when I pulled into the driveway and I stopped dead in my tracks. For the first time since I was a child, the house was decorated. There were trees lit on the front porch and a large lit-up star on the second floor above the porch between the two windows! It made me cry. I jumped out of my truck and ran into the house squealing like a little girl. Mr. FixIt walked out from the living room and I stopped, mouth agape. He was wearing charcoal dress pants, a crisp white shirt, and a red sweater vest. He took my breath away and I knew…anyone who would do this for me was a keeper. He knew how much Christmas means to me and how much I love this house. He knew I missed having a country Christmas at the farm, so he made sure I had one on my return. What a wonderful guy!

My babies live in Colorado. I have to see them as often as I can. In the meantime, Mr. FixIt has obligations he must attend to here. We couldn’t stand the thought of being apart two whole months so he’s flying out to join me for three weeks in the middle of my trip so he can meet the family. We’ll go camping and sightseeing as he has never spent time in Colorado. The kitties are covered, the farm is being watched, my sweetheart is coming to see me, and I get to spend quality time with my girls! What’s not to love about that? Sweetness. Sheer sweetness! ❤️

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭4:9-12‬ ‭NIV

The Weekend Walkabout

Mon, 03 Jul 2017 01:55:23 -0600

I’m a procrastinator. I have a list as long as my arm to prepare for this trip west. I could have spent the entire day yesterday cleaning and organizing the trailer, doing laundry, straightening up the house. But yesterday was the Lord’s day, so Mr. FixIt and I went to church first. The rest of the day was ours. We went my mother’s family’s reunion and made the introductions. Mutual admiration was expressed. Everyone loves Mr. FixIt. He’s highly personable and, like me, strangers are just friends he hasn’t met yet. We went from there to the City Park and wandered around the carnival. We played a few cards of bingo. We went to a car show. We stopped and visited friends. One of the coolest things about dating Mr. FixIt is…we have a ton of mutual friends so the comfort level is already there. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done. This man knows people wherever we go. Literally. My family reunion? A guy that worked at the plant. Church? The daughter of a friend in his bowling league. Car show? Two guys we went to high school with. It’s crazy…and SO fun!

We ended the day with dinner out.

We.

We’ve been “us” for several months now yet it still surprises us sometimes. Because I have been trying to keep him under wraps, my posts have always been “I”. Now that we’ve decided to “go live” so to speak, there seems to be a bit of a learning curve. Like remembering to introduce the other. We’re at that point in our relationship where we’ve just passed this margin threshold where we have built up enough recent memories together to say …“Remember when we…” Oh, I love that! The icing on the cake is our shared memories from high school. I actually remember him from 2nd grade but he has no memory of me back then.

We.

Odd…but so lovely and exciting and full of promise. I love when he tells stories of “us”. I love that he got teary eyed when he read some of your comments about finding each other. I love that even though he had a difficult childhood, he is a kind, gentle, peaceful man. I love how he reaches for my hand when we stand to worship and pray in church. I love this man…my lifelong friend…my best friend.

Someone commented yesterday that she didn’t understand my once a pickle, always a pickle analogy meaning I will always be a widow. The thing is, grief has no rule book. She felt remarrying meant she was no longer a widow. At what point does the pain of grief become fond memories? It’s different for everyone. And grief is variable by time. You can be fine, think it’s gone, truly fall in love, yet still be blindsided by a chance encounter, or the smell of familiar cologne. The way the light slants in at supper time. The sound of your grandchildren playing. Memories remain alive when you feed them. No, I’ll always be a widow. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be joyful. And crazy in love. ❤️

“No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.” ‭‭Joshua‬ ‭1:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

TOW-Wanda is Home!

Sun, 02 Jul 2017 01:55:39 -0600

First of all…OMGosh! Your response to my post yesterday was more than I could have ever imagined. Thank you all so much for the lovely comments, likes, and shares. You warmed my heart! I was so worried that introducing a new party to this adventure would change the dynamic and people would drop away. It turns out, more people tuned in so we’re off to a good start in this new chapter of Mr. FixIt and me! Of course, grief is a lifelong process so I will still touch base on how that affects me as we go along. Ever the teacher.

There’s an interesting timbre to this new man. None of the men I have been with in my sixty-four years were mechanically inclined. Mr. FixIt, however, is a mechanical engineer and a lifelong camper. Imagine how difficult it was for him to sit back and watch as I hooked up and unhooked my camper. Oh…this is entirely new territory for this guy! He wanted to do the heavy stuff for me, and while I certainly could have sandbagged and let him, I still will be traveling alone some of the time so I need to keep up my skills and know for certain how things have been hooked up. I know, I know…control issues. I asked him sweetly to wait till I got what I needed to do done, then I would share some of the other duties. I also told him when we camp in his campers (he has two!) I will sit in a chair and watch him till he has a job for me to do. I made it up to him by doing all the cooking and fixed some pretty fabulous meals! He did a wonderful job changing out the gas lines for me and helped me troubleshoot the electrical bug we had. He doesn’t get the name Mr. FixIt for nothing!

When we arrived home I told him I needed to back the camper into the driveway rather than pull it in like I usually do. With the vintage camper up at the end of the drive, there was no room to get the truck out and around the camper. Our road is a narrow country lane and the driveway is tight. I have to say, I totally impressed Mr. FixIt with my mad backing skills! He was bragging about me at dinner Friday night when we met 20 of our classmates at a local Italian restaurant. I don’t think this guy has ever run across a woman like me. He just looks at me in amazement. It makes me smile.

I washed the exterior of the camper yesterday. It hadn’t been cleaned since I was in Myrtle Beach in September of 2015. It looks so much nicer now. I need to do a deep cleaning inside in the next few days, reorganize, and pack her up for the trip cross country. I leave Thursday. I am traveling alone so I won’t be divulging my exact location when I’m there, but I’ll be checking in daily to give you progress reports and tips for traveling solo in a camper. Mr. FixIt gets to come join me in a couple of weeks and meet the family. That’s exciting!!! In the meantime, he’ll be holding down the fort for me and keep the farm going.

Back off girls…I saw him first! ❤️

“Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load.” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭6:4-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

When "I" Becomes "We"

Sat, 01 Jul 2017 01:55:15 -0600

You could knock me over with a feather. I never, ever dreamed I would get another chance at a deep, loving relationship after losing Mr. Virgo. I’ve walked this path of widowhood for over four years now. At first, I was adamant. I would never have another relationship because I would never go through this again. It was just too hard. I had an ill-advised attempt at dating just five months after my husband died suddenly. It didn’t take me long to figure out that was a bandaid that I hastily slapped on the gaping hole where my heart had been. When I ripped that bandage off, the pain was even more unbearable. I didn’t try again for another year. My second attempt wasn’t much better. Both were perfectly nice men. They just weren’t for me. And the timing was still too soon. I had a lot of healing to do before I could risk dating so I made up my mind I’d just give it to God. I told Him if He had someone for me He’d have to just dump him in my lap because I wasn’t going out there looking anymore. It was too hard on me and it wasn’t fair to involve men and break hearts along the way.

I’ve kept myself busy. I’ve traveled. I’ve deepened my relationship with God because He became my primary focus. My writing grew in depth and meaning. My reach broadened. I had everything I needed. But I still wanted someone to share it all with. I was planning to live up at the river again when I came back to West Virginia last August. Then I got the call that my aunt wasn’t doing well and was going to go live with her brother. My uncle asked me to live on the family farm. And I put down more roots than I’ve had since I sold my Colorado house three years ago. It has been an amazing time of healing for me. I have a wonderful group of friends and a rich social life here.

Sometime in the fall, I ran into an old friend from high school. I’ve known him for almost 49 years. I was fifteen and he was sixteen when we met. He was on the stage crew and I was in the art department. One day I was up on a ladder painting a backdrop. I heard someone clear his throat. I looked over and there was this tall, lanky redhead with the most beautiful blue eyes and an impish grin. We became fast friends and always looked for each other in the halls. Funny…we never dated in high school. We were both shy. We both went on and dated others and after graduation, our paths went in different directions. We never forgot each other though and were always so happy to catch up at class reunions.

Sometime before Thanksgiving, we ran into each other and the timing was finally right for us. He invited me out for lunch and the rest, as they say, is history. He understands me. He is tender and sensitive to my needs as a widow. He has made room in our relationship for Mr. Virgo because he realizes he is only gone physically. He listens to my stories. He knows Mr. Virgo would have been the kind of guy he would have respected and enjoyed being around.

I’ve been leaving breadcrumbs for you here. I’ve spoken of “my friend”, “my traveling companion”, and even his blog identity…“Mr. FixIt”. He has fixed many things for me…around the farm, around my heart, around my life. He is so much fun to be around. Sweet, attentive, open, honest to a fault…an honorable man I am proud to be with. We wanted to keep this to ourselves for a while for a number of reasons…not the least of which was just savoring every moment with it being just us. Now, we’re ready to step out into the world and walk through anything life hands us…hand in hand. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I am not sure how this news will be received. But, since the very beginning, this blog has been about speaking openly and honestly about my grief journey…and this is just another twisty turn in it. My grief is not over. It will never be over. I’ve gotten through the worst of it, by far. Even though I’m in a relationship, I am still a widow. Once a pickle, always a pickle…you don’t get to go back to being a fresh cucumber again. I have always wanted my story to be about my love for God and to give you hope. Hope that, if you want to travel, pull a little camper, write a blog, or fall in love again…you can. Life comes to a screeching halt after the death of a spouse. Everyone’s grief is different…but, you CAN find joy again. I’m living proof of that.

I hope you will stick around and see what comes next. I hope you’ll share the love and joy and hope. It’s all about beauty. It’s all about love. It’s all about life. ❤️

“Do two walk together unless they have agreed to do so?” ‭‭Amos‬ ‭3:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

That One Day in June

Mon, 26 Jun 2017 01:55:06 -0600

There’s one day in June. It’s perfect. The temp hovers at 80 with a nice breeze. The puffy clouds float in a clear, blue sky. The green is ever so slightly past the bright apple green of spring but not nearly the darker green that come with July’s heat. A green that is so intense and so pervasive you feel EVERYTHING is chock full of chlorophyll. From the moment you rise to the time to rest your head on the pillow again, the day is chock-a-block full of fun summer activities. Yesterday was just such a day!

It began, of course, with church. Pastor Justin was away so the team leaders each came forward and spoke about the mission statement and the various guidelines our church works toward. It was informative and encouraging. Afterward, I changed into shorts (I still cannot force myself to wear shorts to church!) and headed to the park to walk. When I got out of the truck I saw a huge crowd and realized there was a car show going on. What a treat to walk around and talk to these auto enthusiasts and run into folks I know! Once I had seen all the cars and trucks, I walked two miles. As I did my laps and passed the baseball field, two teams started to warm up for an afternoon game. I stopped and watched a bit. Then I went to Marietta for a late lunch of Mexican food. I drove my friend home and headed out to the parsonage at the Methodist Church in Smithville for the going-away party being held in honor of Pastor Matthew and his fiancé, Felicia. It was bittersweet telling them goodbye. I have grown quite fond of them both but I know I will see them in Ohio. It was wonderful to share stories of how God is working in all of our lives and to spend a couple of hours win fellowship with some wonderful people that I have met through the local Revivals.

I drove home in a soft rain then watched the sky turn scarlet as the sun set. It was a day to remember. I love those best. ❤️

“He told them this parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near. “Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭21:29-33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

On Being Patient

Sat, 24 Jun 2017 01:55:00 -0600

This is a tough one for most people. I try. I think I practice humility, most of the time. And I feel I approach people gently. But patience? If patience is a virtue, I am far from being a virtuous woman! The pastor was talking last weekend about what happens when you can see your goals and dreams but they just aren’t manifesting for you in real time. What happens when you get a clear picture of what God wants you to do but no matter what you try, you can’t get there? Oh, it’s so hard to be patient and wait for things to happen in God’s time, isn’t it?

I’ve never been patient. I want things my way and I want them now. That doesn’t mean I can’t compromise in relationships, but I’d have to say…if you ask either of my former husbands…they would tell you I’m a pistol. If my mom were still living? Oy. Let’s just say, I’ve never been patient. Trust me on this.

So…how do you become patient if that is not your nature? The answer is, of course, with practice. Impatience comes from being reactionary. Slowing things down, taking a breath, giving yourself a moment to think automatically makes you more patient by simple pausing. I used to blurt out answers to questions, sometimes regretting my response immediately. I am trying to practice, “Hmmmm…I’ll think about that and get back to you.” Unless you are in a life and death situation, most people don’t actually NEED an immediate response. They will probably prefer it, but seldom NEED it.

I’ve stopped praying for patience because it seemed like that was just like asking God to give me more opportunities to BE patient. I have enough of those without asking for more. We all have faults. If we wish for others to be patient with us, then we must practice patience. And…when they are not patient with us, we have to practice twice as hard. Patience brings peace and calm to stressful situations. I know this intellectually. I just have to remember to practice it. I suppose that is why, in the English language, we say “practice patience”…not “DO patience”.

All things are done in God’s time anyway. Impatience in any situation is just wasted energy. Mindfulness can help ease impatience while we wait for results. Clearly, all we have is this present moment. All other moments are memory or anticipation. I guess it boils down to our perception of control. We cannot change the actions of others…we can only control our reaction to them. So, I’ll keep practicing. ❤️

“You say, “I choose the appointed time; it is I who judge with equity.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭75:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

There is Hope

Thu, 22 Jun 2017 01:55:43 -0600

If you are grieving, please know there is hope…for healing, for brighter days, for joy. Those of us who have walked this particular journey know full well the feelings of hopelessness that come in the dark of night. We know how hard it is to find the motivation to do the simplest of everyday tasks like personal grooming, cleaning house, cooking. Preparing a meal becomes Herculean. Brushing your teeth is as daunting as climbing Everest. Balancing your checkbook is something you did in a former life…you know, that time back in the day when your brain functioned as it should.

When you are slogging through the midst of this madness called grief, it is easy to lose hope that things will ever get better. After all, how could they without your special person? I know, when I lost Mr. Virgo, my world came crashing in at my feet and I swore I would never feel anything but the crushing pain of loss. I was so tired, so depressed, so angry, so fearful. In the picture on the left, my eyes were puffy from crying all the time. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat right. I didn’t exercise. It was all I could do to breathe…and I didn’t even do that very well. Do you remember what it felt like to not be able to take in a deep breath? I sighed..a lot. That’s actually a physiological response to grief.

I was a Christian before I lost Mr. Virgo. One of the “hidden gems in the flames” of grief has been a closer relationship with God. That depth of love has brought me through the darkest days of my life. I cannot imagine how I could have possibly survived this without my faith. There were long nights where sleep simply would not come and anxiety would have me paralyzed and physically ill. I tried everything to make it stop. There were nights I thought about the gun in the cupboard. About how easy it would be to just end this suffering. But…I simply could not do that. After having suffered a near-fatal overdose during a severe depression seventeen years ago, and seeing the devastation that caused my family, I knew full well that would never be my way out. No, somehow I had to find a way to get through this.

I remember nights when I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t form words. All I could do was moan in pain. I would close my eyes and visualize Jesus. I would picture him sitting on a bench in a beautiful garden…his robes as white as snow, his dusty sandals strapped to his road-worn feet. I couldn’t speak before him. All I could do was moan…my pain escaping from my throat in guttural gasps. And when I would look at him, he showed me such compassion. He held his arms out to welcome me into his presence. I walked forward and collapsed at his feet and laid my head upon his knee and sobbed. And he would gently stroke my hair and console me. He loved me as a father…as a brother. He poured his mighty love and light over me and washed away the pain for that particular night with the sincere promise that I could come back any time for more. He is always there…my comforter, my rock. And now look…he poured SO much love and light into me, it flows outward. I finally fully understand the phrase, “My cup runneth over.”

If I bring you anything with my words, let me bring you hope. Hope for brighter days. Hope for sleep-filled nights. Hope for healing. Hope for joy. I couldn’t have done this alone. I have my writing. I have you all. I have the love of friends and family. And I have Jesus. Jesus makes me shine. He most definitely makes me shine. Ok…Rodan & Fields skincare helps, too…but it’s mostly Jesus! ❤️

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:26-27‬ ‭NIV‬‬

#RFGoNaked

Summer Nights

Wed, 21 Jun 2017 01:55:02 -0600

Oh, how I love summer! The days are long and bright and packed full of sunshine and flowers and fun activities. Yesterday was an action packed day. I was up at 6:30 and didn’t get back home till nearly midnight, at which time I had to still write my post. I write every evening, pretty much without fail. I think I could count on two hands how many days I’ve missed since Mr. Virgo died.

Doctor’s appointment. Breakfast with a dear friend, reader, and fellow widow who has recently fallen head over heels in love so there were lots of things to catch up on there. Errands galore. I had the truck thoroughly inspected since I’m going on a road trip soon. They found the pinion seal was leaking and replaced it. Fortunately, it was under the drive-train warranty. It’s good to go now. I borrowed some tools from my good friend, Mr. Fixit. I can work on the camper today. I went out for dinner with a friend and then a group went for live music in the park situated right on the river. We sat and talked till dark and I made the hour long drive back to the farm.

I’ve got a list as long as my arm of things that need doing. I found someone to stay at the farm while I am gone to Colorado. They will feed the cats and the birds. There’s never a dull moment here. It wasn’t 10 minutes after I got home that I wrote this and gave up for the night…happy and content with a day well lived. I’ll write more tomorrow. ❤️

““As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.”” ‭‭Genesis‬ ‭8:22‬ ‭NIV‬

Beyond Coincidence

Tue, 20 Jun 2017 01:55:20 -0600

I know I have been delving into matters of faith a lot the last few weeks. I know there is a delicate balance between what people are willing to listen to and that point where they shut down and say, “Yeah, ok. I’ve heard enough of this.” And they move on. I get it. I really try not to get preachy here because matters of faith are highly personal. And, since I am wont to do, I often share highly personal things here…much to the chagrin of some of my family and friends. Sometimes what I talk about might make you uncomfortable. That’s ok. Feeling uncomfortable once in a while is good. It makes us think. It helps us to question and make choices. The things I tell you about my experiences in my faith, I tell because there is someone out there who has questions but are afraid to ask. I tell you these things because I am amazed at how God works in my life, even as I have come to expect it. That being said, let me tell you what happened in my world yesterday.

First, I’ll go back a little. You know how I’ve been working on my social media platform. My agent wants to see my numbers go higher. I’ve been doing everything I can and asking for God to open doors for me. And steadily, the numbers trickle in. One new like. Three. None for weeks. Two. Slow and steady. I was feeling impatient. I could see where God was leading me, but I just wasn’t seeing the results I wanted. It was really frustrating. Then I went to Revival. And I learned to start every single prayer with “Thank you, Lord…for every provision.” I praise him and thank him for this and that…naming specific things. Then, and only then, do I enter into the action-word portion of my plea. This is what I think I need. How can I better serve you? What do you need of me? I knock on the door of God’s heart and ask him to bring me the words he wants me to say and the people who need to hear them. I ask him to Bless me, indeed. Expand my territory. Walk with his hand over me and keep evil far from me so that I may not feel pain. And I went to Revival. I was anointed. There was the laying of hands on me. Fervent prayers were made on my behalf. I received the gift of the Holy Spirit. I developed new friendships in faith. I entered into a faith-filled community and came out changed.

I told you yesterday that I went to the little white church on the hill to say farewell to the young Pastor Matt. I told you he had helped me access places deep within. The prayers over me in the last several weeks have been focused on my writing, my blog, my ministry. Fear was driven from me in some weird supernatural way that I still can’t quite understand. Then Sunday, Pastor Matt anointed us all one last time to help us get whatever we need, whatever we are searching for. He prayed on our behalf. His prayer Sunday was for a huge opportunity. As a matter of fact, I think he said something like, “Something big is coming, girl. Like, soon.” Soon. Ok, how about 27 hours? I received an email yesterday from the reporter who interviewed me for the New York Times a little over a year ago. Now, this woman has been on my mind for the last two or three weeks. I’d pick up my phone to send her a text to check in. You know, to put myself in the front of her mind in case she’s working on a story she can use me in. That New York Times article was a huge boost for my blog. But, just as soon as I would start to look up her e-mail address, Spirit would whisper. “Put it down. She knows. She remembers.” And I would put down the phone and go on. Yesterday, she sent me an e-mail saying she’s working on an article about widowhood and retirement for a large financial company for their online magazine and could she use me in this article. Yes, she remembered me. She reads my blog. I am honored because she is a very prolific, well known author. I am honored she wants to include me again. But I am most of all…blessed. Indeed. I’m getting another opportunity to expand my territory. And God most certainly walks with his hand over me and keeps evil far from me.

When I replied, I told her that she has been on my mind the last few weeks. I told her the timing couldn’t have been more perfect because I need to boost these social medial numbers. She wrote back and said this online magazine is read by 1,000,000+ readers over the age of 50. Wow. Just…wow. I had to tell you. I had to share with you. This is how God is working in my life. I come expecting great things. I see the provision come and it stuns me. Coincidence? Some of you may think so. Planetary alignment? My moon is in Aquarius? My chakras are aligned? You may think that. But I know. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt who orchestrated this. This is a God thing…plain and simple. Thank you, Jesus. ❤️

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Lawzy, Lawzy...What Have I Done?

Sun, 18 Jun 2017 01:55:02 -0600

Oh…I almost hate to show you what I’ve gotten myself into. Y’all are gonna sit there and roll your eyes and shake your heads. As with most projects, the more you tear into it, the more you find needs doing. Thank goodness my friend, Mr. Fix-It, is willing to help me with the heavy stuff. We cleaned everything out of her today so we could get a good look at the job ahead. We started by making a list of what needs doing and setting priorities. First off was the realization there is no earthly way of getting this thing done before I leave for Colorado next month. Not and do it right anyway. Sigh.

First off, there are several wooden ceiling joists that have rotted through and need to be removed and custom cut to the curvature of the roofline. Once those are tied into the frame, the roof needs to be completely removed, a new underlayment placed, new wiring and insulation, then a new roof placed on. Once the roof is done, the windows come out and any rotten wood replaced. The windows will be sandblasted and glass replaced then the windows go back in with caulking. There are some cabinets that need to be removed. Also the bunk in the back comes out. Then the floor gets touched up and mended. Once the wiring and the insulation in the walls is replaced, paneling goes in making it an open room. There will be a double bed on a platform in the back. I will find used furniture to convert into a cabinet/kitchen/workspace. I don’t necessarily want a gas stove in this camper but there is one so but we’ll see. A small convection microwave and an electric convection hot plate would be fine. I might have a small refrigerator…not sure. I want a closet with a luggable loo and up front I’d like a couple of comfy chairs and a small table between them. Very simple inside. I just need a cozy place to sleep out of the rain.

I know she looks like a ton of work, but I’m in a place right now where I love a challenge and I need another joyful thing to look forward to. So…I have named her “Oh, Be Joyful!” I’ll call her “Joy” for short. My challenge for myself is to find as much stuff as possible free to fix her up with. I love the idea of salvaging and putting as little money in her as I can while still making certain she is roadworthy. This is indeed going to be a joyful experience!

I went to church last night and the pastor preached on Exodus. He pointed out that even though the Israelites were freed from slavery, they were still in bondage because they looked backwards at the chariots full of Egyptians bearing down one them. In order to break free from the bondage you are in, you have to have faith and move forward. I am weary of watching for chariots carrying grief. I’m moving forward…with “Joy”! Isn’t that a beautiful thing? ❤️

“For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock. Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the LORD. Hear my voice when I call, LORD; be merciful to me and answer me.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭27:5-7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

And So...The Camper Addiction Begins!

Sat, 17 Jun 2017 01:55:55 -0600

The obsession has begun. The camper was ready to be picked up yesterday afternoon. The gentleman I purchased it from had to get the title for me. A lot of time these old campers have no title...just a bill of sale. Depending on the state you are in, this can be a huge, drawn out, expensive problem. I have passed on several affordable campers because there was no title.

A torrential downpour hit just as I pulled up to the house. After ten minutes or so, the clouds broke and I was able to hook up the camper. I thought I should check the air in the tires before I drove too far so I headed to the nearest gas station. Upon further inspection, the tires were so old and dry rotted, I didn’t dare put more air in them. The first order of business was the dreaded DMV…that black hole where time is sucked into a whirling vortex and spits you out several hours later…poorer, starving and frazzled. After sitting an hour and a half, my number was next. That’s when the nice DMV lady stood up and said, “I know it looks like we aren’t doing anything up here, but I finally reached someone I know in Charleston and the entire state’s computer system is down. We will let you know if it comes back on.” If. Not when…IF. Sigh. I waited a while and gave up. If I got stopped without tags, I’d just have to show the trooper the title and tell them the story.

Stop two was Walmart for tires. I prayed the entire way, driving 35 miles an hour with my flashers on. I breathed a sigh of relief and sent up a prayer of gratitude when I arrived safely. I was thrilled when they had trailer tires in stock that fit. I went ahead and bought a new spare as well. I know there are some people who run car tires on a trailer but I have been taught you shouldn’t do that. I always run 8-ply trailer tires on my campers. It probably took two hours at Walmart but those tires are perfect and you could really feel the difference in the way the camper felt being towed. $200 is a small price to pay for safety. I hated to put those nice new tires on those ratty old wheels. I have a friend who knows a guy who will sandblast the rims and paint them with a powder coat finish that is baked on. It lasts much longer than painting the rims. That, however, can wait and be one of the last things that gets done.

The camper followed right along behind me, just like it’s supposed to. I got her home, backed up the driveway like a pro, unhooked like a boss, and covered her with a tarp. She needs a new roof so the tarp will have to do until that can happen. Now, to name her! Someone suggested “Aretha” (‘cause she’s a Franklin and just needs R-E-S-P-E-C-T!). That’s cute! I have some ideas on decorating. This one is crying out for really comfortable, real furniture…not “camper cabinets”. “The Country Cottage” or “The Cozy Cottage” sounds lovely. Or “Fernweh” which means wanderlust. I could call her “Fern” for short. “The Merry Widow”? Let’s hear your suggestions! ❤️

“For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭7:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

She Followed Me Home!

Fri, 16 Jun 2017 01:55:13 -0600

Those of you who have been here from the beginning know I really, really wanted a vintage camper when I started this adventure. I listened to Mr. Virgo’s advice…posthumously…and bought a new camper. It was probably the right decision at the time because I lacked the necessary skills and stamina to deal with a camper that needed fixing up. Now though…now I’m good and really excited to start a new adventure. And this time I’m going vintage!!!

It’s about a 40 minute drive into town from the farm along a twisty, turny two lane blacktop. I’ve driven it 1,000 times but about a week ago, a darling little two seater Mercedes convertible was sitting out in the field in front of a house. I spun around to get a second look. That was exactly the car Mr. Virgo dreamed of! Soon though, it wasn’t the Mercedes that caught my eye. It was this baby…tucked in beside the house with a tarp over her head. My heart raced. I drove down the road and turned around and came back. I passed some folks leaving as I pulled in the drive. They backed up and asked if I was there to see the Mercedes. I said, “No…I just wanted to come see this little camper here. Is she for sale?” The lady said, “How much will you give me for her?” The gentleman was kind enough to get the key and show me inside. They had bought the camper to glamp it up for their daughter. All but the back end has been gutted. They ran into time constraints and they were about to get back to it when the mom broke her ankle. The next day is when I showed up. She was exactly my price. I can fix her up the way I want her, and I was an answer to their problem as well. It was definitely a God thing. I need this little girl right now. We are both spreading our wings.

I want to get her water tight and road worthy quickly. I’d love to take her with me to Colorado. Then I could work on her while I visit my family and have her ready when I go to the big Sisters on the Fly gathering called Rocky Mountain Hi in August! Then Girl Campers in September. Man, I’d have to really push to get that done but I might be able to! We’ll see. I’ve wanted her for a long, long time. I just needed to find her.

Isn’t it interesting that Mr. Virgo’s favorite car would be out in front of a house with a tiny camper that needed a new home? There are no coincidences…I was guided there…without a doubt. She’s a 1967 Franklin, a rather rare travel trailer. I’m going to decorate her inside in shabby chic white with pale green and pink. She’s going to be a girly-girl camper. I’m so in love! ❤️

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

In Transition

Thu, 15 Jun 2017 01:55:13 -0600

The life I led before becoming a widow fell away from me on March 12, 2013. I was a beautiful caterpillar before that day…pretty, perfect, moving from meal to meal mindlessly. Oh, it didn’t seem mindless at the time. I was full of energy and purpose and life and love. But the day Mr. Virgo died, the “ME” I was left for good. I tried for a long time to get her back. In my naïveté, I thought it was somehow possible to get over all this and get back to the business of living my life as a caterpillar. After a while, I finally got it…that part of my life was over.

I went into my cocoon, that dark space where I worked on what was inside somehow trusting the outside would follow. And eventually, after lots of prayer and time and travel and mistakes, I finally emerged…changed, to be sure. But with wings! Wings that have carried me to new heights. To new places. To new life, new love, new friends, new peace.

As I sat on the front porch yesterday, this little yellow caterpillar crawled up on an old pair of boots I have sitting on a table outside Grandma’s front window. I watched it explore this inanimate object in search of food. It’s a beautiful thing…soon to become a tussock moth. I contemplated all the varieties of caterpillars there are in the world. They are different for a reason. They are meant to become a moth or a butterfly…whether a short, stubby, nondescript gypsy moth or a magnificent luna moth, a tiny Karner Blue or a Monarch or a Swallowtail…they will all have wings and fulfill their destinies.

Widows are the butterflies of love and loss…we transform through a period of darkness, stillness encased in a hard shell, a chrysalis, a crucible of change. When our time comes and we are ready, we start to grow. Our comfortable shell, that place that helped protect us from the world, begins to feel too tight, too constricting. In the time before we break through to our new life, this one begins to feel quite painful. It is in that moment we think we can’t do this anymore. It’s just too much. We’ve endured so much pain, so much discomfort. Now, here we are going through it again. Unlike the caterpillar, we have a choice to make here. Stay in this dark place forever or emerge into the world of the unknown, fresh and new, yet forever changed.

What we have the hardest time seeing in that dark place is the beauty of the life beyond. If we can just drag ourselves out on the limb, hang on by tips of our fingers, and trust God to work on our hearts, life blood pumps into our wings and they begin to expand and dry. For a while we sit there, in disbelief. We flex our wings…our beautiful, multicolored wings…and in a glorious moment of magic, we fly!

There is a certain ambivalence between sorrow and healing. What starts out as a line as thick and strong as a ship’s anchor chain, time and healing stretches that connection to our loved one out into a thinner and finer cord. Still strong, but lighter. If you cut that cord that ties you, are you unfaithful to the memory of your lost love? Have you turned your back on what that relationship meant to you? Are you betraying your life partner if you choose to step out into the sun? I don’t believe so. Spreading my wings and flying is exactly what my love would want, would expect, me to do. I’ll never forget my days as a caterpillar but I’m choosing to move forward, to live my life as a glorious butterfly. To really own that. I choose to fly. ❤️

“The LORD our God said to us at Horeb, “You have stayed long enough at this mountain.” ‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭1:6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Let Your Light Shine

Wed, 14 Jun 2017 01:55:17 -0600

Yesterday was a perfectly wonderful birthday! I was heading to town and kept getting delayed. As I finally set out, the thought came to mind, “It’s a dangerous road…take your time.” I don’t rush when I drive this little country road to town. I just kept getting his message…go easy, go easy. I’ve learned to listen. As I rounded a bend, there was an ice truck lying on its side nearly blocking both lanes. No one was injured, and because it had just happened and the police and rescue weren’t there yet, I got around it and made it to town for my appointment. My lesson is this…listen for that still, small voice. It guides you and protects you!

First stop was the chiropractor. I love her! She is such a hoot. Today she was full of stories about her Harley. After my adjustment, I went to brunch with a friend then ran errands in a hellacious thunderstorm. Finally headed home to feed the cats, plant some bushes, and clean the oven from the cherry pie juice that burned on the bottom.

I had a zillion friends and relatives and readers send birthday greetings. I honestly tried to answer each one personally but it was never ending. I finally had to resort to the old standard general message thanking everyone for their kindness. Such an amazing blessing and outpouring of love. I used up all my writing time and now I’m saying to all of you…thank you so much for your kind greetings for my birthday. I had the BEST day! You all are awesome!!! ❤️

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭46:4‬ ‭NIV

? Will You Still Need Me? ?

Tue, 13 Jun 2017 01:55:29 -0600

I have waited a long time for this birthday so I could sing that Beatles tune! I have always loved my birthday. That one day of the year where it was all about me. My Grandma celebrated my birthdays with a homemade cake every year. It was always the same…a yellow cake with penuche frosting. (http://www.food.com/recipe/grandmas-penuche-frosting-22376) If you’ve never had it…you must, you must! I could literally sit and eat it with a spoon, warm out of the pan. Divine! We didn’t have that gosh awful icing in a can when I was growing up. Frosting was a handmade confection from handwritten directions that was handed down from generation to generation. I still have Grandma’s “cookbook”…a stenographer’s notepad with her eighth-grade-education scrawl, written with a stubby, hand sharpened pencil, no doubt.

Mr. Virgo made a big deal out of my birthdays because he knew what it meant to me. He would call the girls ahead of time to make sure they remembered and invite them to a restaurant. Like Christmas, he would shower me with gifts that he remembered me saying I liked. He was a generous man. The girls have done a good job remember me on my special day. It may not be on the actual day, but when I get to Colorado next month, we’ll have a gluten free cake. I want a yellow one with penuche frosting this year!

I received a beautiful gift last week…an early birthday present. A friend of mine said, “What you need out here is a good picnic table!” The next visit, I had one! What a kind gesture and a lovely gift! I am so blessed! Birthdays after loss can be sad affairs. I remember that feeling of loneliness and yearning I felt…especially the first couple of years after Mr. Virgo died. Now I make my own birthday celebrations and I make sure I include all those whom I love. I don’t wait for others to remember. People have busy lives. I’ve done that…waiting for others to remember me then being disappointed when they don’t. Not any more. I am quick to let everyone know it’s my special day because I want to celebrate with them! ? When I’m 64! ? ❤️

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

Motivation Monday: A Whole Lotta Happy

Mon, 12 Jun 2017 01:55:03 -0600

Yesterday was a really great day! I went to church with a friend and heard an amazing sermon about bridging the gap between churches. I attend a young church. The pastor said when he first got started, the other pastors around town were calling him and offering words of encouragement. The other pastors prayed for our success, which is how it should be. Then, we started to grow. Word got around town that the Warehouse Church was a place where miracles were happening and people flocked in droves. All of a sudden, those same pastors who had been “praying for our success” started talking negatively about our pastor. The thing about denominations is this…Jesus isn’t Baptist, he isn’t Methodist, he isn’t Church of Christ, he isn’t Protestant. He’s just Jesus. We should all be encouraging each other. There is a gap between churches. And there is a gap between Christians who are judgmental of other Christians. We need to bridge the gap. It was a wonderful service.

I’m reminded of Rodney King when he was arrested in the middle of the violence taking place in LA in 1992. “People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along? Can we get along?” There have been episodes in the past that are as bad as, if not worse than, those we are dealing with now. Like grief, violence and anger and hatred seem to come along in waves. I’m desperately waiting for peace again because violence hurts my spirit. Look at these kitties. The two younger, orange and white ones, always make a wide berth around Ol’ Mama Kitty, and for good reason. She’d just as soon swat you as look at you, although she’s almost always sweet with me. After all, I am the Goddess of Food. But for some reason, last night these three were chummy. Kitty Boy, the youngest, was so happy and purring so loud he was actually making little mewling sounds. It was so sweet. What made this night different than all other nights? I don’t have any idea. But I’d like to bottle happiness and spread it around.

We are to be lights in the world. Let’s go out there and keep shining, no matter what the climate is, ok? ❤️

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

Getting Filled Up

Wed, 07 Jun 2017 01:55:17 -0600

Whew! Revival…can you stand some more? The young evangelist who led the Revival at Grandma’s church a few weeks ago has four churches in his charge. At the ripe old age of 26 or so, this guy is a crackerjack, for sure. He’s leading a Revival in a church in a neighboring community this week. I was able to attend the last couple of nights and let me tell you, it was just as powerful (if not more so) as the first one I attended.

As I sat listening to this young man preach and I looked over the attendees, I got this vision of a bunch of baskets. I’d go back to listening, then pretty soon I’d be thinking about baskets again. As I drove home, I slowly made my way through the twists and turns of country roads, watching for deer and any other critters. I no sooner pulled out on the two-lane blacktop when the baskets were back. So, I did what I always do when something incessantly niggles at my brain and I can’t get rid of it. I had a conversation with God.

Me: OK, Lord…what’s with the baskets?

God: Wait a minute…is that any way to start out a conversation with me? What were you just telling the good folks at church? Something about “thanks”, I think it was.

Me: You’re absolutely right…Lord, thank you for never having your phone off the hook when I call you! Thank you for always being there and for the blessings you give me. I’m confused though. Why are you showing me baskets?

God: Look at these baskets. They’re all different shapes, all different sizes. They have different patterns, different colors. They have one thing in common…they are woven. They can carry lots of things. Eggs, vegetables, flowers, stones. But, what if I were to ask you to carry water from my well in one of these baskets? Could you do that?

Me: Of course not…they are woven. There are holes in them. The water would run right through!

God: That’s right…it would. You are like a basket. You are woven together in exactly the way I patterned you. All the people of the world are like baskets. They are as different as fingerprints. And, they all have holes in them. You are a thirsty people. When you take your basket to the well, you can’t carry the water you need to quench that thirst. It falls on the ground.

Me: Ok. I can see that. I still don’t understand what you’re getting at.

God: I am the most important water…the Living Water. That is the only Water that flows from MY well. Would you have the Living Water spill out on the ground and be wasted?

Me: No! Of course not! But how can I keep that from happening if I’m a basket full of flaws and holes?

God: Ahhhh…I’m glad you asked! It’s very simple, really. You have to line the basket with something waterproof. Something that will plug up the leaks so you can carry my Living Water within you.

Me: What would do that? What could I use?

God: The recipe is simple. You start out with a good strong base of Obedience. Then you spread on a thick layer of Faith. Top that off with a whole bunch of Prayer and you’ll have a strong, waterproof lining that will carry my Living Water. Then you can drink to your heart’s content and quench that thirst you’ve been carrying around with you.

Me: What if my basket springs a leak?

God: The enemy will try to poke holes in your basket at every turn. You must always be vigilant. I have given you power…super powers to be exact. Your words are mighty weapons. Speak life into your situation. Tell the enemy to stay away from you and leave your basket alone!

Me: As simple as that?

God: As simple as that.

We complicate life. We worry. We suffer anxiety at every turn. When we use our words to speak life into our lives, darkness has no choice but to flee. When we create a waterproof lining, we can carry anything…Water, light, precious gems of goodness. Watch how you think. Then watch how you speak. Speak love and light and life into your lives. You’ll march through the crises of your lives much quicker when you plug up the leaks. ❤️

““Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it."” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭7:24-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In My Own Voice

Mon, 05 Jun 2017 01:55:48 -0600

For those of you who are fairly new here, the whole thing started with this field. Twenty-two years ago, I brought the kids to West Virginia to introduce my future son-in-law to the family. Daughter #1 was about 19 and #2 was about 4. We went for a drive in the country, came around a bend, and here was this field filled with what looked all the world to be giant marshmallows. #1 told #2 that this was a Marshmallow Ranch. “This is where they grow the marshmallows really big then they cut them up in little pieces, put them in bags, and sell them at the stores.” she said.

Years later, I owned a little needlework shop called Needles & Pins. When I made items to sell in the shop, I created an art division of the company and called it Marshmallow Ranch because it was cute and catchy. Three months before Mr. Virgo died, I revived the name and began making handcrafted jewelry and art out of antique silverware and maps. I opened an Etsy shop and started this page. When I became a widow, I really wished I had a grief mentor to walk me through the painful journey ahead of me. Since I didn’t, I decided to BE that mentor for others and began blogging about what I was going through, with an honest and open heart…no matter how ugly it got. I already had around 400 followers at this point so I just kept the name and that started four years of daily blog posts. It’s been an interesting, painful, challenging journey. It has also been filled with hope, love, and joy…something I certainly couldn’t see starting out.

I didn’t really start speaking in my own voice until death whipped every ounce of pretense out of me. I had spent two decades as a Jewish doctor’s wife and never really felt “authentic” in that space. When you are raised in the home of an unpredictable alcoholic, you learn to tap dance for your supper. When you are born into a family with a child with a developmental disability, you learn to not give your mom any more trouble than what she is already facing. You learn to be the clown, to not rock the boat, to make everyone laugh. Above all else, I wanted to make my mom laugh. In so doing, I became a chameleon. I “changed colors” with my environment in order to fit in.

When I couldn’t keep all the balls in the air anymore, I dropped into a deep depression and spent seven years in what has come to be known in my family as “The Prozac Years.” I cannot be held entirely responsible for my behaviors from 1993 through 2000. Prozac altered my personality and I didn’t care about anything or anyone…a fact I’m still making up for. I was much more genuine the seven years I was with Mr. Virgo, but still, I hid parts of who I was…from him, from my family, from everyone. Grief has a way of stripping you bare. Your heart breaks open wide and shatters to the floor in a million shards. At some point you realize you have come to a crossroads. Stay where you are with your heart at your feet, or pick up the pieces and put yourself back together as best you can. What better time to drop all pretenses and become the genuine “you” you were born to be? I would stand in front of the mirror and ask God to show me who He wanted me to be…who He had MADE me to be. And bit by bit, piece by piece, I discovered my genuine voice. It’s much easier to just BE than it is to try to fit in.

That’s the peace you see on my face when you send me such lovely messages about my pictures. That is the genuine, real me…relaxed in my own skin for perhaps the first time in my life. What you see is God’s love shining through me. I’m merely a conduit, passing on the Light I have been graced with. My cup is full to overflowing. ❤️

“Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭3:3-4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Hallelujah Anyway!

Tue, 23 May 2017 01:55:30 -0600

Anne Lamott wrote a poignant book about blessing whatever comes into your life…good, bad, indifferent. Because it has all come for a purpose, even if that purpose is merely to thank God it isn’t worse. Being grateful in spite of the messiness of life is truly a gift you can give yourself…and others. When you shout “Hallelujah Anyway”, you demonstrate gratitude, forbearance, and joy to those who may look to you for guidance. I love that! I’m going to remember to say “Hallelujah Anyway” when things don’t always go smoothly. I certainly didn’t need to shout it yesterday because I could not have possibly experienced a more beautiful day than I did my first day in Daytona Beach!

I had a lovely sleep-in then fixed my coffee and sat outside watching the waves not 100 steps away. As I counted my blessings, I added a huge thank you to the friend who made this trip happen and the friend that loaned this stunning condo. I changed and went to the beach for a couple of hours. Even though the temperature was up in the eighties, the breeze coming in off the ocean was divine. I went for a long walk down the beach and back. As I was walking under the pier, I was thinking about Ms. Lamott’s book and all the times I’ve been challenged in the last four years and I still managed to say “Hallelujah Anyway!” Just then, I looked down and this penny was right in front of me. Delight surged through me as I picked it up. Well, Hallelujah Anyway!

I came in to clean up and head out for lunch. I ate in a seafood place called Down Under and I’m afraid I was “underwhelmed”. The first couple of hush puppies were wonderful, but the refill was doughy. The cole slaw was marginal. The fries were good, but who needs fries, right? The crab cakes were terribly disappointing. Doughy, undercooked, beige disks that were truly sad. But, lesson learned. Don’t eat at a place under a bridge, right? Oy!

After lunch, I headed to Target to pick up a few groceries. I love Target…much better than Walmart. Clean, well stocked, friendly staff, and a Starbucks…what’s not to love? Afterward, I stopped at the Daytona Speedway and poked around. That place is HUGE. There were the remnants of an RV show in the parking lot so that was fun.

Once the groceries were put away back at the condo, I curled up for a nap to catch up from the long drive. When I got up, I fixed a tray of carrots with French Onion dip, grapes, raspberries, hummus with pretzel chips, hard boiled eggs and dealcoholized Merlot and carried it out to the deck. Just as I finished, the sky opened up and I was presented with a lovely chorus of lightning and thunder! Oh my….this was just the perfect ending to a perfect day. As I write this, I’m curled up in bed in the master suite with the door flung wide, catching the cool sea breeze and listening to the rush of water…both from the rain and the ocean. The sound of tires on wet pavement marks the adventurous souls out in spite of the weather. I can just hear them as they creep along, the rain making it difficult to see the road, their vacation plans only slightly ruffled by a late spring thunderstorm as they mutter, “Hallelujah Anyway! Look where I am!!!” ❤️

“Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” ‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:16-18‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Road Trip...The Grand Adventure Continues!

Sun, 21 May 2017 01:55:53 -0600

OMGosh! I miss the open road! Traveling along the highways and byways of this beautiful country is one of my favorite things in the whole wide world to do. I’ve been stationary the majority of the last nine months and I miss TOW-Wanda. By the time you read this, I will be several hours into my drive to Florida. I didn’t want to miss church last night so I went then headed out on the road. Cooler of snacks and ample tunes makes for a good time. I love driving at night. There isn’t as much traffic and it’s cooler. I drive till I’m ready to call it a night, then pull in to an area with a bunch of hotels and search my hotels.com app for the best deal in the area.

This picture is little TOW-Wanda at Steamboat Lake State Park. I look at this picture and remember that trip into the wilderness and back roads of Colorado. It’s hard to imagine I did all that so soon after losing Mr. Virgo. The memories of that trip are fuzzy. I was still in shock, trying to navigate the world alone for the first time in my life, really. It’s like a slide show in my mind now. I have pictures and my early posts to remind me where I was…physically and emotionally. I was so lost emotionally. I have continued writing the stories of my life because I want those who have just boarded this ship to know that life gets better. Calmer seas are coming, even if you cannot envision them. I promise…you will be different, but you CAN find joy again. Just keep looking. As I headed out from the farm yesterday, cats and lawn care covered, my heart sang in the sunshine and all was right in the world!!!

Destination…Daytona Beach! You get to come along vicariously!!! I’ll post pictures! ❤️

“Dear friend, guard Clear Thinking and Common Sense with your life; don’t for a minute lose sight of them. They’ll keep your soul alive and well, they’ll keep you fit and attractive. You’ll travel safely, you’ll neither tire nor trip. You’ll take afternoon naps without a worry, you’ll enjoy a good night’s sleep. No need to panic over alarms or surprises, or predictions that doomsday’s just around the corner, Because GOD will be right there with you; he’ll keep you safe and sound.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:21-26‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Fire in the Sky

Fri, 19 May 2017 01:55:03 -0600

With a big hill across the road, I don’t get to see spectacular sunsets very often. I was sitting on the porch Wednesday evening reading when I noticed the light changed. I looked up and caught this beauty! The temperatures have cranked up here in West Virginia, along with the humidity. When I mowed yesterday morning, even though it was only 70 degrees when I was done, I was whupped. I have discovered stuffing an ice pack in your sports bra does wonders for keeping your core body temperature down. I learned from a back country rescue member not to just drink water when you are overheated. The body will keep working to move the fluids into your bloodstream, further depleting your electrolytes. It’s best to drink some sort of sports drink as you exercise in the heat…and mowing is exercise, trust me! I like to use powdered Spark from AdvoCare in my bottle of water. I have had fewer problems with it than say, Powerade. I like Powerade but the last time I used it there was just too much salt and it made me sick. Little safety tip for the summer.

As I was poking around in the old garden area last week, I found several asparagus stalks…tall, lanky, and leafed out. Somewhere back in the furthest recesses of my mind, I seem to remember grandma talking about asparagus that she had planted not doing well. There are probably only half a dozen plants out there along the ditch alongside the garden so my guess is, this was a particular delicacy that would not have been wasted on the unsophisticated palate of a 6 year old girl. I am going to place dowels or something alongside these plants to mark them for spring next year so I too can enjoy those first spring veggies. My favorite way to cook asparagus is to break off the woody bottoms, lay the spears on a plate, squeeze half a lemon and a drizzle of EVO over it then sprinkle with garlic. I cover that with plastic wrap and pop it in the microwave for two minutes. Then I test it to see if it’s done enough. If not, I add time in fifteen to thirty-second increments. Divine with grilled salmon or served cold on a salad.

My neighbor across the road is planting his garden this week…last night was tomatoes and peppers. When I first arrived at the farm three years ago, I was really looking forward to the following spring when I could put in a garden. Since things changed with my aunt and I headed back out on the road in a different direction, I find I spend the majority of the summer in Colorado with my family so it wouldn’t work to have a garden right now anyway. I do believe I will try canning again this fall, though. I love seeing the rows of jars put away for the winter and there are some wonderful farmer’s markets and produce stands here. I’d love to take advantage of that.

I was going to write a Friday Fitness post today, but my fitness routine isn’t as established as it was last year. I love climbing those stairs in town, but that is a forty-minute drive from here and you don’t drive 60 miles round trip every day just to exercise. I am getting plenty of exercise here on the farm…mowing and hiking. And I get at least three or four good walks in a week between the country road and the parks in town. I have maintained my 40 pound weight loss, even though my tone is not quite what it was with stair climbing. My diet has always been my downfall because I do love sweets and salty things, but as long as I stay away from fast food and gluten, I do pretty well.

This is graduation weekend for many. Gas went up just in time. Camping season is upon us. I visited TOW-Wanda this week to retrieve some items I needed. It really made me itch to get out on the road with her! I’m taking her to Colorado with me right after the 4th of July. I’m not taking her on this Florida trip. I’m watching my Sister and Girl Camper friends posting pictures of their adventures. I’m seriously thinking of getting a little, tiny trailer so I am more inclined to pack up quick and go camping on the spur of the moment. If the right thing comes along, I will know it. Enjoy your weekend…get out there and have some fun! ❤️

“It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops.” ‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭2:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Color Green

Thu, 18 May 2017 01:55:46 -0600

Seriously, could it get any greener than this??? This is my all-time favorite time of the year. The freshness of spring hasn’t left us yet. I’ve identified a new sound. Tree frogs! These aren’t peepers like you hear in the spring. And they aren’t the deep-throated bullfrogs. These frogs have a two second croak that reminds me of that musical instrument that draws a wooden dowel over a serrated edge. I love when it’s warm enough to go out first thing in the morning with coffee and last thing at night with something cold and refreshing. I can hear the neighbor’s TV down the road. Who would want to sit inside and watch television when you can live inside the “nature station”?

The cherries are turning red across the creek in the old garden area. The birds are lined up in great anticipation for the taste treat of the year and I can guarantee you, if I were going to be home when they ripen fully, I’d be hard pressed to get enough for a pie before they’re gone. The clematis is blooming as are grandma’s peonies. I did not realize peonies have a scent. In the midday sun they give off a soft, sweet aroma that is quite lovely.

I caught so many carpenter bees in the trap that I actually had to empty it tonight. I got a plastic container and added water and a generous squirt of dish soap and dumped them in. They cannot escape the soapy water. Now there’s room for more.

As I write this, my “tribe” has gathered around me for my evening writing session. Kitty Boy has returned from his sojourns well and hardy. He doesn’t stick around house like Boy Cat. It’s rare for Old Mama Kitty to be gone long. She snoozes in the chair beside me whenever I come outside. I’ve never been much of a cat person although I had one as a teenager. These kitties have stolen my heart. Go figure!

After my day of surfing the mattress Tuesday, I slept eleven hours straight that night. I woke up feeling much better physically. There is still sadness at the periphery…not for me, but for others. One of my fellow Sisters on the Fly lost her son Tuesday after being hit by a car as he crossed the road. He was to be married this Saturday. A high school friend lost a family member in a freak accident Monday when the tractor rolled over on him as they were cutting down a tree. People are getting out and doing things after being cooped up all winter. There seem to be a lot of outdoor accidents this time of year. Please, everyone…be safe out there. And say some prayers for the families of these beautiful people. Hold your loved ones close. ❤️

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:21‬ ‭NIV‬‬‬

My Resting Place

Wed, 17 May 2017 01:55:55 -0600

Last week there were two mornings where the temperature hovered just a tad above freezing. I was so happy that my flowers and the cherry trees didn’t get nipped by Old Jack Frost. And just like that, the temps soared up to the 80’s yesterday. When it gets like that, it’s too hot to sit on the front porch after the sun crosses the house and starts its decent over the far ridge. It doesn’t go behind that ridge till just before 7:00, but after that…the porch is my domain again.

I struggled a little yesterday. Loss encroached into the periphery of my life over the weekend and even though it didn’t affect my inner circle, sometimes other people’s loss stirs my own feelings. I so seldom have a bad day anymore. Really. I can certainly tell when I wake up, which way the winds will blow, and yesterday was a little stormy. Not bad. Not nearly like I’ve had in the past. My grief has always gone out through the pit of my stomach and I have learned to just let it pass. I’ve learned to listen to my body and give myself permission to have a mattress-surfing day. I had my “Emergency Down-Day Kit” at the ready. I rode the wave back into shore and as the house cooled, so did I.

Riding that wave and finding my resting place reminded me of those long, dark early nights of grief when I would have what I referred to as…bad nights. There were nights when the only way I made it through was to visualize sitting at the feet of Jesus, resting my head on his knee, and letting him stroke my hair the way my mother did when I was a child. I knew that I was God’s child, and that my resting place was in that place in my heart where Christ lives. There was a woman who came to sing at the Revival last week. She sang a song she wrote about finding her resting place in Jesus. It is comforting to me when I learn I am not alone in this journey…that there are others who have struggled, who struggle still, and that I’m really ok.

My grief is different now. It’s fleeting. It’s temperate. It’s diffuse. It’s not even filled with Mr. Virgo like it was. It’s more like a cloud of sadness that settles for a little bit then lifts and moves on. If I let myself delve too deep, I could stir up too many things and I’ve learned that doesn’t serve me well. I’ve also learned it doesn’t hurt me to indulge myself in this bit of reverie. It’s a giant emotional yardstick that illustrates how far I’ve come since March 12, 2013. It will always be there. I don’t know what stirred it this time…probably the loss I’ve seen in others lately. Today is a new day…I have tools…I have hope…I have love…I have God. What more could I need? ❤️

““Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11:28-30‬ ‭NIV

Oh, Firefly...Wherefore Art Thou?

Tue, 16 May 2017 01:55:24 -0600

Fireflies are disappearing, apparently. As with many species, human encroachment and the loss of habitat as well as light pollution have disrupted the reproductive cycle of the Lampyridae. Mosquito-borne illnesses like West Nile and Zika, among others, has prompted more communities to spray pesticides in the evening hours right when the “lightning bugs” take flight in their mating ritual dance, thus decreasing their numbers dramatically. Fireflies like longer grass so cutting your lawn too short might decrease their numbers. There are natural influences on this entertaining insect, as well. Moist, temperate climates are preferred over hot and dry. The increasing warmth of the earth is causing a shift in the populations of many species. Even earthworms (which, by the way, are not native to North America) have had an effect on the decline of firefly numbers.

I have been waiting for the dance of the firefly with great anticipation. The familiar rising glow symbolizes summer to those of us who grew up catching them in jars or in chubby, little-girl hands. They are synonymous with watermelon and moon baths and bare feet in the grass. I always brought my girls home in the summer so they could experience those time-honored traditions that I enjoyed as a child. They still remember those trips.

I sat on the porch yesterday with my coffee, writing this post, and was struck with the cacophony of sound that met me. From the neighbor down the road mowing to the carpenter bees trying to make their way to my trap to the raucous calls and tapping of the woodpeckers in the dead tree out by the road, summer is fast encroaching on the farm. There are so many layers of sound now. The recent addition of flying insects has added to the complex symphony I enjoy with my morning reverie. The sudden appearance of a red tailed hawk or a crow being chased by robins adds to the entertainment. Old Mama Kitty lays at my feet, occasionally jumping at a curious hummingbird or passing butterfly. I saw my first grasshopper of the season as I typed this. This isn’t a bad life.

I’m preparing for another adventure this week. A really BIG road trip! I’m leaving for Florida this weekend. I’m not taking TOW-Wanda on this trip. I have another opportunity to use a condo on the beach. I am so grateful! I am available for speaking engagements as I travel so if you have a church or civic group that would like to host me, let me know. I will be speaking at a church in Crescent City, Florida on June 1st.

I think I’ll wash the sheets and dry them in the sunshine today. Won’t that be lovely? ❤️

““ ‘All flying insects that walk on all fours are to be regarded as unclean by you. There are, however, some flying insects that walk on all fours that you may eat: those that have jointed legs for hopping on the ground. Of these you may eat any kind of locust, katydid, cricket or grasshopper. But all other flying insects that have four legs you are to regard as unclean.” ‭‭Leviticus‬ ‭11:20-23‬ ‭NIV

Photo Credit: stevendavidjohnson.com

The Well Worn Bible

Mon, 15 May 2017 01:55:58 -0600

Last night was the eighth and final, night of the Revival at the little white church on the hill. I missed two nights but was happy I got to attend last night.

Pastor Matt sent us out with renewed faith and refreshed spirits. We often reach places in our faith where we sleepwalk and just go through the motions. The purpose of Revival is to wake us up, to learn, and to get a fire in our bellies. Mission accomplished. So many little churches are withering up because the elders are dying off and the young people aren’t attracted by the dryness that is so often the hallmark of the services.

When you get fired up and you step into the Light…that darkness will do whatever it takes to bring you down. I’ve seen it happen in my own life too many times to doubt the validity. True to form..in the span of five hours I was slapped hard in three different directions. I won’t go into details because they aren’t my stories to tell, but there was evil and darkness attached to two of them, as plain as day. The third was a friend suffering an injury in an accident. I don’t back down. I won’t be scared back into the shadows. I stand strong.

I am comforted by the picture above. A woman who attended the Revival was walking out last night when I caught a glimpse of her well worn Bible. I called her back and snapped this picture. This is the book that brings this woman the most comfort. This book is written with living words. You can read a verse a hundred times and it takes on a different meaning each time. I’ve learned a lot this week. I’ve opened up a lot, felt a lot, laughed a lot, cried a lot. I’ve been healed and set free of bonds that wore me down. I shared my story with others. I woke up. May I never go to sleep again. ❤️

“You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.” ‭‭I John‬ ‭4:4‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

The Fruit of the Vine

Sun, 14 May 2017 01:55:40 -0600

I went to my home church last night. You all are going to think that’s all I do. It isn’t…but this was Revival week so every night but Friday night has been spent in church so that’s what you get with your morning coffee. My home church is wonderful. It meets in a warehouse. It started out just two short years ago with 127 people. Now we regularly serve over 1300 people in three services every weekend. 1259 Salvations. 226 Baptisms. 2556 VIP’s (new attendees who fill out a visitor card). They have a great Praise Team and the pastors are a husband and wife team who do a wonderful job. Because the Sunday services are standing room only, the pastor asked for volunteers to come to the Saturday night services to give the new people a chance to come in and find a seat. Isn’t that a wonderful “problem” to have? We are in the process of buying a huge warehouse so we can have a seating capacity of 1300 per service. I love it!

Last night, in honor of Mother’s Day, the pastor’s wife gave the sermon. She delivered a great message and talked about the Fruit of the Spirit…love, joy, peace, forbearance (patience), kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. When we receive the Holy Spirit, we need to nurture these fruit as the attributes of a Christian. We all can use practice in these areas. I’m willing to bet, forbearance and self-control will be the highest on most people’s list. We are a self-indulgent people and patience is a virtue that is not easily attained in today’s world. With any fruit-bearing vine, good care is needed to produce the best fruit. A barren vine needs to be pruned in order for the plant to produce it’s best. Sometimes we have to lop off those unproductive parts of ourselves…those things in our lives that do not serve us and actually do harm. Pruning these things away is difficult and oftentimes downright painful. But, we will be the better for it.

Tonight I go back for the last night of Revival. Can’t wait to give you the report tomorrow! Happy Mother’s Day…and on behalf of your moms, give us a call today. If she’s gone…my heart is with you. It’s so hard to lose your mother. You’ll never regret being good to your mom! ❤️

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control…” ‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:22-23‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Caught in a Trap

Sat, 13 May 2017 01:55:58 -0600

This has turned out to be a really intense and power-filled week for me. I have been attending an old-time Gospel, Spirit-filled Revival this week at the little white church on the hill and I’m telling you what…it’s been both exhilarating and exhausting. I don’t even feel like myself. I’m sure you’ve noticed my fired-up posts this week. I don’t usually go all preachy like that, but I’ve been just feeling so inspired all week and I’ve learned to listen. With that in mind, today’s post is toned down a bit but still faith-based, as all my essays are. I noticed my numbers dropped off a little after yesterday’s post. I know…not everyone wants to have religion with their coffee. I get that. There will be plenty of travel stories and farm stories and memories to share down the road. This is Revival week, and since I write about what I’m experiencing every day, this is what you get this week.

I went out for my morning walkabout yesterday. Out of nowhere, Boy Cat made a beeline for me and started rubbing all over my legs. He has never, ever done that (see the video from yesterday) and he tagged along with me for most of my walk. I took a bunch of pictures of all the wildflowers that are currently blooming. I walked down the road to visit a neighbor. As I was strolling along, I noticed this wasp trap hanging in a tree. If you look inside the trap, there…hanging at the top…is a wasp on a nest. Inside the trap. It reminded me of something young Pastor Matt preached about this week. God v. Satan, Light v. Dark, Good v. Evil…whatever you call it, light banishes darkness, not the other way around. I know in my journey, I ran as far away from a relationship with Jesus as I possibly could. For some reason, God was ok…but Jesus scared me. Probably because of that hellfire and brimstone preacher of my youth. I mean, I felt Jesus knocking at the door of my heart…politely waiting to be invited in. But, I would get so anxious and worked up about it, I could only go in the other direction to avoid the whole thing. Little did I know at the time, surrender would have been the ticket to freedom from all that.

As my journey took me further and further away from God, I became more and more blind, more and more deceived by the darkness. Once I got so far out to sea and turned around to look for my saving Grace, I realized how far from shore I really was. I was in a trap of my own making…believing the lies, living my life, building my nest there…much like this unsuspecting wasp is. Living in that trap wasn’t all that bad on the surface. I had a nice house. I had a new car every couple of years. I had an essentially unmonitored bank account. On the surface, I had everything. But on the inside, I was a barren wasteland. I was living in the Sahara Desert with no water…no food…no spiritual sustenance. The Darkness can lure you in with comforts then it closes the door and locks it and you can never get out. I am blessed to have found my way back before It was too late.

The path I’m walking hasn’t been one I’d necessarily have chosen for myself. I never wanted to be a widow. I gave up a lot to get to where I am. Aside from Mr. Virgo’s death, I wouldn’t change a thing because I’m in a good space right now. I’m not living in a trap anymore. I have shed the chains that bound me. And I’m living free…standing on the promises of God.

I missed Revival last night and will again tonight because of a prior commitment. I’ll go back Sunday night for the grand finale, though. I’m going to my church with a friend tonight to avoid the Sunday crowds and then out for dinner to celebrate Mother’s Day early. It’s still cool and cloudy and raining here. May is like that. I hope you have a grand start to your weekend, dear ones! ❤️

“The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭145:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Stepping Out in Faith

Fri, 12 May 2017 01:55:40 -0600

This is a clip from Night 3 of the Revival I have been attending. I thought I would share it with you in case you are interested. Pastor Matt preaches in much the same style as the circuit preacher who, quite literally, scared the pee out of me when I was seven years old, sitting in this very church. My 64-year-old eyes can see past the style and dogmatic differences now to see the same love behind the delivery. That circuit preacher of old sent me fleeing in the opposite direction of the church and I spent the better part of my adulthood feeling like something huge was missing in my life. It wasn’t until my mom died that I began to explore a relationship with God like I had never known. More specifically, I had always loved God. It was this Jesus guy that I was afraid of. I was led on a spiritual quest with so many supernatural twists and turns that I finally had no other alternative left but to believe. Interestingly, that was what my grandma told me when I asked her, after the scary preacher incident, “How do you KNOW Jesus walked on water?” At the time, her answer, “You just have to believe” made absolutely no sense to me. Eventually, it did. I almost died before I got there. Thank God, I did not.

I began this walk of faith when my mom died in 2004. I stood at her casket and wondered where she went. Where did Grandma and Pop-Pop and Uncle Sonny go? The thoughts of never seeing them again was too much to bear so I went on a spiritual journey. I asked God to bring me the people to pray for me. I asked him to bring me the materials I needed to read. I read the New Testament for the first time in my life. I walked into the local Christian bookstore looking all the world like the Unibomber in my hoodie and sunglasses, trying not to be conspicuous as one of the Jewish pillars in our small mountain town. I grabbed the first book I found, paid for it, and hurried back to my car. It was Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life. You can’t get much more fundamental than that. I started reading.

Shortly after Mom’s funeral, I returned to Colorado. My brother wanted to come live near me. He has cerebral palsy and there is a wonderful program in the small town where I lived. They assist and support people with developmental disabilities to live as independent a life as possible. I went to them to sign my brother up. Imagine my dismay when they told me there was a ten year waiting list for residential services. I told God if it was his will that I care for my brother, I certainly would. But here was this amazing program that could give him a life. I asked him to open doors and pave the way for my brother to be accepted into this life-giving program. Three days later…THREE DAYS…I got a call from the people in Colorado. They had received emergency funding for my brother, there was a rare opening, and they had called everyone on the waiting list. No one could move in by the end of the month. If I could have him there, the spot was his. I got off the phone, looked up, and said, “Ok. NOW you’ve got my attention!” My quest was cranked up several notches.

A Purpose Driven Life is a 40-day read. Mom had promised my brother a trip to Florida so we headed to Colorado via Disney World. On about Day 21 of my reading, we were near Jacksonville in a hotel. I opened the curtains that morning and saw the great expanse of ocean and the long, sandy beach. It suddenly struck me…I truly was nothing more than one of those grains of sand in the grand scheme of things. I felt something come over me, and I was suddenly so tired. Tired of flying a kite but hanging onto the tail for dear life. Tired of always searching for something to fill that hole in my heart. Tired of aching for something I did not know and could not find. So…I gave in. I gave up control…or the idea of having had it in the first place. I surrendered and asked Jesus into my life. If you have been raised in faith, you may never have felt what happens in a moment like that. I literally felt every cell in my body be made new. It was the most remarkable experience of my life. When you make a bold step into the Light, the darkness wakes up and takes notice and starts trying to chase you down. It whispers darkness in your ear and tries to steal your joy. Blow after blow, I suffered one thing after another, till I learned my power over the situation. The key to claiming your power is stepping out in faith. And that’s what I’m doing here.

On the night this video clip was filmed, I was anointed by Pastor Matt and he prayed over me. This blog has become my ministry…my way of walking the talk. He prayed that the doors be opened, the path be made straight and smooth, and that God would continue to bring me the words to say and the people who need to hear them. If I have gained anything from this Revival, it is to be BOLD. So I am stepping out in faith. I have always feared that to do so would drive you all away. I have recently realized, I have little to no control over the number of people who read my writing. God delivered a literary agent a year and a half ago. She is excited about my writing, about my story, and about the work I do here. But in the black and white world of publishing, numbers mean everything. If you do not have a large social media platform, you do not get noticed and you are likely never going to sell your book. I truly believe this is what I am supposed to be doing. I truly believe this is what I was placed here on earth to do…to write, to share, to speak. To support those who suffer grief, pain, and loss. To bring hope into the world. In my boldness, I am claiming that even as you are reading these words, the Holy Spirit is moving amongst you all. That somewhere, someone is going to read this and say, “We need more of this. We want more of your writing.” I believe it and I have the audacity to trust it as truth.

When I was called two and a half years ago to place a Scripture at the bottom of each post, I promised you I would never get preachy. I’ll never tell you my way is better than your way. I’ll never tell you you’ll go to hell if you don’t do what I’m doing. My ministry is to spread love and light and peace and hope and joy into the world. Lord knows, we need as much of that as we can get. If I have ever touched your heart…if you have ever felt anything stir in you…if you have ever thought of someone specific when you read my posts…if you have ever felt lifted by my words, please share them on any social media platforms you may have access to. Someone out there knows someone who knows someone who can help me boost these numbers. I am available to speak at conferences, meetings, churches, civic groups…anywhere that might need an uplifting word. I can write guest posts on other blogs. I can write articles for magazines. I can write columns in newspapers and newsletters. I write. I tell stories. This is what I have to give the world. I know it will come in God’s time…not mine.

And…that, my friends, is about as preachy as I will ever get with you all. I am so grateful you are here. I am so grateful I have a God that loves me. I thank him for all he has done for me and I praise him. This has been an interesting and surprising week for me. I appreciate your indulgence as I share the experience. ❤️

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Your presence, And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, And uphold me by Your generous Spirit.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭51:10-12‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

https://www.facebook.com/PastorMatt777/videos/774277599449864/

Weeding My Garden

Thu, 11 May 2017 01:55:50 -0600

Well, I went to Revival again last night. I do not believe I have ever in my life felt the energy in that little church that I have felt this week. I’m talking fire. Whew! You do come away with a spring in your step after a big dose of the toe-tappin’ spirit. I tried to imagine my Grandma and Pop-Pop, my mom, Aunt Idy, Uncle Red, Aunt Myrt…sitting in their seats, listening. They were all so…reserved. Let me tell you…these beautiful people were anything but reserved.

Pastor Matthew opens with song and prayer, then invites anyone who would like to speak to please do so. Last night, a lovely couple were there and the gentleman rose to say something. He’s a hobby farmer. He raises cattle so he can see them, not eat them. He names them. His first cow he called “Blessings”. Two more came along and he named them “Shirley Goodness” and “Mercy”. There are more…all named with Biblical phrases. And, when he goes out to call in his cows, neighbors from far and wide hear him calling…“Surely Goodness and Mercy, Blessings” and so forth. It is his form of testimony within earshot of his neighbors.

The man’s wife then stood to talk about her land. She helps her husband outside as she can. There is some Floribunda growing out in the pasture. It’s a kind of wild rose…its brambles used as a hedge row instead of fencing. It seemed like a good idea to our forefathers to plant such a thing, but they didn’t realize it would soon take over. And, it’s not good for anything…the cows can’t eat it. Something so seemingly innocent ended up needing to be rooted out. The wise woman with her gentle demeanor and her long silver hair reminded us that there are things we let into our lives…things that didn’t seem like such a bad idea till they turned into a pasture full of briars. Then you have to start plucking it out and getting rid of it. Once bad things get a foothold, it isn’t long till you have a mess in your life.

I distinctly remember a particular day in my life when I made an unsavory life choice. That still small voice told me, “Don’t do this. You do this and nothing will ever be the same.” Oh, we’re a stubborn people, aren’t we? “You can handle it.” “It’s just this once.” “Nobody will know.” Lies. Lies whispered into our lives. Light and Dark. Up and Down. Good and Evil. It’s a balancing act. It’s a constant battle. I fall down sometimes. I wimp out because it’s not always easy. If there’s anything I’ve learned this week in the most unlikely of places for me to be, it’s this…I have far more strength and power than I ever dreamed of. We all have access to that power. It’s a gift. For me, that gift is the Holy Spirit and I’m grateful to have had this experience this week. It’s been empowering. ❤️

“Come and hear, all you who fear God, And I will declare what He has done for my soul.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭66:16‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

Busy as a Bee

Wed, 10 May 2017 01:55:02 -0600

Yesterday was a mowing marathon. I no sooner finished till the rains came. I barely finished before it was time to head to church again. Revival. Who knew I’d enjoy it so much. I have to say, I truly have never experienced anything quite like this. Last night’s sermon was about the Holy Ghost. I never really understood the Holy Spirit till just the last few years. There’s a contingent of women attending this Revival who have a more Pentecostal background and I mean to tell ya, it got downright lively last night. I felt exhilarated when I came out of there.

As I was mowing yesterday, I was mulling over the events of the past couple of years. I’ve suffered from anxiety issues for much of my life. I remember my first panic attack in second grade. I was thinking while I mowed about the anointing I had the first night of the Revival and I wondered if I could have Pastor Matt pray over me about those anxieties. Then I just had this really clear vision that I have the power to keep that at bay by simply speaking it into truth. I have experienced the dark come at me when I step strongly into the Light. I turned and looked around me and made a decision. I walked the boundary of the yard and declared my borders. I declared out loud that no evil thing can cross this boundary. I turned to the house and raised my hands and asked God to bless this house and all who enter…their coming and their going. I must have looked like a crazy woman standing out there in the yard, hands up, talking out loud. But, you know what? I didn’t care! I’m tired of those dark things chasing me and nipping at my heels. So, I rebuked them. And it felt good. I felt so peaceful afterwards.

Then I finished mowing.

I discovered something very cool at Lowe’s the other day. Wood borer bee traps. And, they work! I have one on the front porch. I put it up after I filled the borer bee hole with silicone caulk. I have another for the back porch. In the meantime, I had to prepare my notes for today. I’m being interviewed for another podcast episode on Janine Pettit’s show…Girl Camper. We’re going to be talking about camping in Colorado. I’ll let you know when it goes live. In the meantime, Happy Wednesday! ❤️

“Then Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the LORD your God, and Him only you shall serve.’ ”” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭4:10‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

Old Time Religion

Mon, 08 May 2017 01:55:05 -0600

Some of my earliest memories surround the little white church on the hill a couple miles from the farm. We only had a handful of people come every Sunday. We had a circuit preacher who came every six weeks or so. You dressed for church back then. And you dressed extra special on preaching Sunday. We got a stick of Beeman’s gum, or maybe Juicy Fruit, to keep our little mouths fresh…and busy. Grandma tied a shiny dime in the corner of a hanky and gave it to us for the collection plate. We were threatened within an inch of our lives to be good. You never, ever wanted to cross Grandma.

We were never made to go to a Revival. Maybe Grandma knew that was too much to ask from a little girl as fidgety as me, I don’t know. But that was one experience I never had. Since the hellfire and brimstone style of Preacher Simon scared me away from church at the ripe old age of seven, it was pretty much a moot point. I remember feeling intrigued by those tent revivals I saw popping up in rural areas, though. The big tents had no sides and bare light bulbs were strung above rows of white folding chairs. Earnest people crowded into standing-room-only tents and churches to do…something. Sing? Shout? Handle snakes and drink poison? What did I know? I heard stories. I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Till last night. I’m using the word “want” loosely. I was certainly curious.

I got the call yesterday from my cousin/friend asking me to come to the Revival with the added caveat that Johnnie Staats was playing. I’d walk ten miles to see Johnny Staats play so since I had no other plans and I can always use a good dose of Jesus, I agreed to go. I arrived at 6:30 and visited with some old familiar faces till the music started at 7:00. Johnny didn’t disappoint and it’s true…good Gospel music brings on the familiar goosebumps I attribute to faith experiences. The young pastor and the lead singer encouraged anyone who wanted to say something to speak up. After “Go Rest High on That Mountain”, I could not hold back the tears. I could literally feel the spirits of my ancestry joining in and rose to say so. I spoke of being born into that little church sixty-four years ago, how my Grandpa and his brother, Red, were the lay ministers when it wasn’t preaching Sunday, how my Uncle Bob rang the church bell without fail. Mine were not the only tears as others remembered those who have gone on before.

Finally, the young pastor got down to delivering a right sprightly sermon on the many names of God that was really quite interesting. It was fascinating to see the same jumping up and down, yelling style of that pastor of old through sixty-four year old eyes instead of that frightened little girl who peed her pants out of fear. I could look past some of the dogma differences in our particular denominations to enjoy the fellowship of kith and kin. At the end of three hours…yes, three hours…the altar call came. I’m a Christian. I have no problem with a good alter call. But I knew before the first notes of the song began that I was going to be called forward by the pastor. And that’s when things got really interesting.

I have never, ever been anointed. The pastor looked at me and smiled and said, “You knew you were coming up here the minute you walked in this door didn’t you? Girl, you got God all over you!” I looked in his kind eyes and felt my shoulders relax. I smiled wanly and nodded. The pastor took out a vial of oil and anointed the sign of the cross on my forehead. He got serious and said, “You’ve gone through some pretty rough stuff…hard stuff…stuff that you didn’t think you would live through, haven’t you? As a matter of fact, you almost died, didn’t you?” I swallowed hard and nodded again. “And you’re going through something really hard now…something that has a weight on you and your smile doesn’t always meet your eyes. You have a mission and sometimes you’re not feeling worthy. Well, let me tell you…you are! You are going to walk out of here renewed and refreshed with a smile the likes of which you haven’t felt for a long, long time. Are you ready to receive that?” At this point I was smiling through my tears with my hands raised and a dozen or more people were standing around me with their hands on me…all praying fervent prayers individually as the pastor grasped my head in both his hands and beseeched God to shower blessings on me and the ministry I have been placed here to do and that I be anointed from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. I am not lying…it was an exhilarating experience and I indeed felt refreshed and renewed in spirit. I felt twenty pounds lighter.

I can see how people can be whipped to a frenzy in churches of that style. Enough to handle snakes and drink strychnine? Perhaps. I am not passing judgement in any way. What I felt was love and light. The world needs more love and light. This isn’t my style…I love the contemporary church I attend. But, last night let me see my grandparents’ church through a new lens and let me release some of the bad memories I have always associated with it. Healing is a beautiful thing. ❤️

“Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭85:6‬ ‭NIV

At Last...

Fri, 05 May 2017 01:55:41 -0600

I was sitting out on the front porch yesterday…drinking coffee, solving the crossword, checking in with friends, listening to the Norah Jones channel on Pandora, watching the spring showers blow through in waves. It’s been a crazy week with trips to town for one thing and another every day since I got back from my last trip. Yeah, I know…it’s rough. But, I was really relishing a few hours of peace and quiet before a friend arrived in the afternoon for a visit. It felt good to just BE for a little bit. Those moments always turn something on in my heart…like fine-tuning the dial on a radio to get the station perfectly clear.

I was lost in reverie when Etta James came on with her sultry, smooth voice…“At Last”. Oh…there was a time when the mere thought of that song made me burst into tears. That was the song Mr. Virgo and I danced to at our wedding. The one…and only…time he ever danced with me. I can still remember the way my hand rested in his, the sparkle in his eyes, the early spring sunshine slanting through the panes of glass in the sun room of the restaurant where we were married. I remember the way the smooth, black and white tiles felt beneath my feet as he gently guided me in a four foot square…not standing still but not really dancing either. Just moving and sharing a special moment.

I was so excited to marry that man. My second divorce had left me yearning for a loving connection, as if changing my name would be another chapter further into the story of my life…further away from the pain and heartbreak that had come before. Our relationship was sweet and trusting, a mutual love and respect that soothed my broken heart and made me whole again. Three weeks shy of six years later, my heart shattered again when he died right in front of me.

Yes, there was a time when this memory would have caught me off guard and I would have been reduced to a puddle of messiness and pain. And, I’m sure there will be a time in the future when it triggers something that will open that wound again. Not yesterday. Yesterday, I smiled and remembered the way his suit coat felt when I laid my hand on his chest as we danced, his strength and confidence a source of comfort to me. I could almost smell his Halston cologne. I wish I could remember what we said to each other in that moment but it is lost to me. I wish he had liked to dance. I love being held in a tall man’s arms.

I was brought back…to the porch, to myself, to this beautiful life I am living…by the stunning sweep of a Pileated Woodpecker landing on the dead tree stump in the front yard where I have the rain gauge. At last…I have come home to myself and I’m anchored in this moment without drifting back into the stormy abyss of grief like a sailor being washed from the deck in a restless sea. At last. ❤️

“You made me suffer a lot, but you will bring me back from this deep pit and give me new life. You will make me truly great and take my sorrow away.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭71:20-21‬ ‭CEVUS06‬‬

Home Sweet Home

Sun, 30 Apr 2017 01:55:13 -0600

The trip home was far less eventful than the trip last weekend. Thank God, there were no accidents along the way. I stopped for one last incredible latte at Sweet T’s in Duck and left behind the painted rock that I had found in Wytheville on the way down. I hope someone finds it and hides it somewhere else. I loved the sentiment on many levels…“Believe”.

Even though the trip was uneventful, it was long and exhausting. Eleven hours with three or four stops along the way to stretch my legs. I saw things I’d never seen before. I drove through the tunnel under the Chesapeake Bay. That was pretty neat. A tad disconcerting to think of all that water above me, I have to admit. I saw the big aircraft carriers in Newport News. I loved all the bridges going across the expanses of water in the south. It’s so open and free. This week is “Bike Week” on the Outer Banks. I’ll bet I passed, at the very least, a thousand motorcycles on their way down to the beach and I counted my lucky stars they weren’t there during my quiet getaway.

As I drove home yesterday, I was particularly struck by the beauty of Western Virginia and Eastern West Virginia. The hills are solid and green, green, green. That brilliant spring green that hurts the eyes. The redbud and dogwood were all but gone save for the highest hills. There’s still some in my little holler. And, I was greeted by blooms on the rhododendron!!! I can’t wait to see it in the light of day. There was a lot of rain while I was gone and the lawn needs to be mowed soon.

Th truck was emptied and the items in the cooler were stowed away by 10:00 last night. Kitties had been fed and came to say hello. And, another adventure is in the books! I am grateful for the opportunity to go to the beach. I am equally grateful to be safely ensconced in my humble surroundings here on the farm. I find peace and joy wherever I go. ❤️

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭118:24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Life is a Beautiful Thing

Sat, 29 Apr 2017 01:55:01 -0600

Life is about choices. Every day we are faced with the choice to rise up and grab life by the tail and wring every ounce of, what…joy, love, happiness, laughter, beauty, energy, excitement, sweetness? All that and more await us every day. Even if you struggle with depression, anxiety, grief, sadness, fear, loss….there is room for choices in your life.

Two weeks after Mr. Virgo died, I had a choice to make. I could die, metaphorically. Or I could live…really live. With joy and abundance. It was not easy. Especially early on. But I made every day count. I looked for joyful things to put in front of me to make life bearable. I surprised myself with joy. And, the more times I chose joy, the lighter my load became. It wasn’t overnight by any stretch of the imagination. But bit by bit, every positive choice helped bring me up from the abyss into the light.

Travel has been one of the joys that has helped me the most in my grief. Whether alone or with a friend or group of friends, seeing new places, challenging myself in different situations, and finding new parts of myself has been an amazing journey of growth and self-discovery. This trip has been no exception. I am very grateful I got to tag along with a friend in a gifted week at a timeshare. It was a lot of fun as well as relaxing.

Choices. Choose life. Choose joy. Choose laughter. Choose gratitude. I know. It’s not easy. Even in my darkest days of grief, I could surprise myself with joy…if even for just a moment. Moments build and time changes things. Whoever said time heals all wounds lied. It doesn’t. But you can build strong scars that show how hard you loved..how hard you fought. Just keep making positive choices. ❤️

“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Life in the Margins

Fri, 28 Apr 2017 01:55:28 -0600

This picture was taken the year before I was born. Four of my cousins gathered for their “stair step” photo in front of my aunt’s house, documenting their growth from year to year. I chose this picture as an example of the photos of our youth. The pictures had margins. Within the margin was the date the photo was developed. Grandma could write names and places in the margin so we could remember who was there and where we were. A lot of information was held in that margin. It was a breathing space between then and now.

Somewhere along the line, we lost the margin in our photos. The image was pushed to the edge and there was no room to identify, date, document what was happening. It was just gone. We lost something when we lost the margins. We lost space and time. Not only in our photos, but in our lives. While modern conveniences may have added hours to our days…how much life was actually added? What did we fill our margins with? TV? Food? Busyness?

I don’t know about you, but I’m looking for more margins these days. As I sat on the beach yesterday, watching surfers, fishermen, shell hunters, and sunbathers I thought about all the times I could have put more margins in my life. More space and time for others. More space and time for me. I contemplate what I had to give up to get to be here…toes in the sand, sun on my face, the sound of the surf pounding on the shore. I gave up a bunch of stuff that I didn’t care about anymore. I gave up buying designer clothes and umpteen pairs of shoes I didn’t need. I gave up house payments and big utility bills. I gave up expensive meals out. I sacrificed some time with my family that I try so hard to make up for when I go back for visits.

I gained space. Peace. Freedom. Time. Love. Joy. Kindness. A relationship with God. A home church. I gained stillness…a margin of space within which I can think my thoughts and write them down. I’ve regained the margin around the picture of my life and that is worth much more to me than furniture and an address or a fancy car. I’ll take my margin any day of the week. ❤️

“Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭62:1-2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

God Moments

Thu, 27 Apr 2017 01:55:03 -0600

Yesterday dawned dark and grey again. Every day I’ve been here has been cloudy for the biggest portion of the day with tons of rain. Have I let it get in the way of enjoying myself? Heck no! It’s actually put me in just the right places at just the right times. After breakfast, I headed to the north end of the island to visit the Currituck Lighthouse. I was amazed when I got there and saw a man dangling from the tippy top. He was bolting down cables wrapped around the top of the lighthouse to secure it for another hundred years. I thought maybe they were not allowing visitors in but that wasn’t the case. While the other two lighthouses were $4 and $5, the Currituck is $10. I did not see National Parks people there so I assume it is not a government facility.

When I got to the top, there was a couple there. I struck up a conversation with the woman. She is an artist camping in the area. She showed me some pictures of her plein air work and she is really quite good! (Her card is in the truck so I’ll have to share her work later.) I shared my blog. We are both faith based and we offered each other loving encouragement standing right there at the top of 222 stairs under cloudy skies. We marveled at our God’s goodness and how He moves in our lives…and the sun broke through the clouds. What a wonderful confirmation!

We could see a large yellow house from the top of the lighthouse. My next stop was a tour of this home…Whalehead. A gentleman’s wife was was not allowed to participate in any of the hunt clubs in New England because she was a woman. Her forward thinking husband bought a large track of land and built his wife her own hunting lodge so she could do whatever she wanted. It was a lovely home and offered alotofinsight into the history of duck hunting in the area.

After the tour, hunger got the better of me and I went in search of great seafood. Fresh blue point oysters on the half shell were divine. Fish tacos were good. Not quite the same at the day before. After browsing through a few shops and remembering I need nothing, I drove back to the condo, changed, and hit the beach. The tide was coming in and I kept pulling further and further back. As I prepared to leave, there were a few people standing at the top of the stairs chatting. I detected a subtle hint of a British accent in the woman. When I asked where she was from, she said Newbury/Thatcham area in England. I about fell over! That’s where I lived in 1973 and 1974! We chatted for a long time and compared notes. It was so exciting. I’ve run into people from England, sure. But never from the small village in which I lived. What a treat!

Finally, I noticed the tinge of gold on the clouds and realized I was about to see my first sunset of the week. I went across the main road to the restaurant and walked out on their back deck in time to catch…this. It almost made me cry, it was so beautiful. It was a day full of God winks and angel kisses. There are no coincidences. I felt so blessed and loved and full of light when I finally strolled back to the condo at day’s end. These are the days that bring me good sleep…the sound sleep of a day well lived. ❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Lord, Take Me Home in the Springtime

Wed, 19 Apr 2017 01:55:43 -0600

I hated burying my mom on the coldest day of the year. It was late January and while the sky was blue, there was a bitter wind blowing on that hilltop. My Aunt Rosie and I were the only ones at the cemetery. It was just too cold for any kind of formal gathering. I could not let them put her in the ground alone though. So, I stood with a borrowed coat wrapped tight beneath my chin, shivering in the thin, January light.

In contrast, Mr. Virgo died in the middle of March, which is a lot different in Colorado than it is here in West Virginia. Still, the day we laid him to rest, the sun was shining and it was warm enough for a light jacket. It’s funny the way your brain works when your beloved dies. I distinctly remember thinking if he had to die, at least he died in the spring when the earth was coming back to life. I didn’t have to lay him in the frozen ground. And I didn’t have to go into my grief and compound it with seasonal affective disorder. These are the things I think about while I’m driving.

A couple of nights ago, I slept out back in TOW-Wanda. While it was wonderful to be in the camper, it stormed all night long and the only thing I could think of was that huge, old cherry tree just outside the camper. Just like the message about the rockslide a couple weeks ago, I kept getting this feeling like I had to get TOW-Wanda out of there. I need to get this tree taken out before it falls on anything…or anyone…and they can’t get any equipment back up in there with my camper parked in the driveway. I have friends who have offered to let me park TOW-Wanda at their place, but I don’t want to impose, or ruin their grass, or disturb them with coming and going as I want to camp this spring and early summer. I found a place where I can store her securely and anytime I want to take her out to camp, they’ll pull her out for me and all I have to do is hook her up and go. Then, I drop her off, and they take her around back to park her. All for $35 a month. Perfect!

I decided I needed to get this done yesterday as we are supposed to get severe storms the next few days and I’m running out of time before I leave for the beach. Getting this huge trailer in and out of this long, narrow driveway is tricky. One of the biggest obstacles is the electric lines going up to the top of the cellar house. They hang low over the driveway. In the past, I’ve had someone hold them up with a broom while I backed under them. I didn’t have any helper yesterday and being the EVER resourceful woman that I am, I had to figure out how to do it myself. I took a long 1x2 that I found in the cellar, taped a walking stick to it, then taped the broom handle to that and…voila! It worked like a charm! The electric line nestled in the bristles of the broom and stayed right where I put it.

Now, backing up out of the driveway was interesting. I got down to the road but I was worried about hitting the pole on the other side of the driveway. It’s a pretty busy road for being so far out in the country and the only thing I could do was slowly back out onto the blacktop. I was almost all the way out when a guy in a pickup stopped and guided me those last few feet. Easy peasy! The new truck towed fine…just doesn’t have the torque like the old one had, which I expected.

I needed to get back to mow. As I drove through the hills, I rolled down the windows and the smell of the honeysuckle, lilac, dogwood, redbud, apple, peach, apricot, pear, and crabapple trees was so incredibly sweet. It was then that I sent up my plea to God. “When it is my time to go, please take me in the springtime so my last day will be filled with beauty such as this perfect West Virginia day.” That is all I ask. ❤️

“yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that."” ‭‭James‬ ‭4:14-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Saying Goodbye to Sunshine

Sun, 16 Apr 2017 01:55:55 -0600

My friend Jamie is doing some really hard stuff this weekend. Her dear friend Angie is dying. Actively dying. Cancer is such a brutal disease. It robs everyone of time, health, dignity. There is nothing good about cancer. Yet, in this midst of dying, there can be moments of grace. Angie has a young daughter she won’t see graduate or marry or have babies. In some of her last lucid moments, she was able to dictate three letters to be given to her daughter on just those occasions. What a gift that will be for this young woman to have her mom reach out to her from beyond, just when she needs her most.

I think we all wish we had hidden letters from our moms. Letters that tell us how loved we are…how proud we made her…how she wishes she could be there but she’s watching from above. I can’t imagine losing my mom at seventeen. I know Angie’s friends will step up and be there for the important events. They’ll be sounding boards and support systems and surrogates. It’s going to be a rough go for everyone.

The only time I ever sat at someone’s bedside while they were dying was in support of a friend. Her grandmother was unresponsive in the nursing home. Being Jewish, my ex-husband and I were called to the bedside to recite the sh’ma (also called the shema)…the prayer sung over and over for the dying. We stayed till nearly dawn when we needed to get back home for the baby. An hour or so later, our friend called. When we saw the caller ID, we expected to hear her grandmother had died. Instead, we were greeted with laughter when we answered. It seems our friend was calling relatives to report the current status when the phone slipped off the night stand and fell crashing to the floor. Grandma sat bolt upright in bed and yelled, “$&@?@ €#£|$@….what does a person have to do around here to get a decent night’s sleep???” The dying often rally before the end. Angie did…after a night of everyone sitting around her bed, singing songs and praying…she woke up Friday morning singing “I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt”…much to everyone’s delight. At this writing, she is unresponsive again and it is just a matter of time. She…the owner of the megawatt smile. She…the fellow Gemini who met me once and became my lifelong friend. She…who will leave a giant hole in the hearts of all who knew her. Angie…who would love that I told you a funny story rather than cry about her dying. We honor those who touch our hearts.

See you on the other side, Sunshine. ❤️

“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

Life and Death

Sat, 15 Apr 2017 01:55:08 -0600

Ok…I said I wasn’t going to post till Monday. I tried not to. I really did. But I can’t NOT WRITE! Writing is like breathing. Brushing my teeth. Making my bed. It’s what I do. Every…single…day. I can’t help it…it’s just so much a part of me now, so here I am.

Yesterday was the perfect spring day here in West Virginia! I slept in, had my French pressed coffee and breakfast al fresco on the front porch, then headed to the local state park to hike. I did three and a quarter miles. It was warm and slightly overcast so it was very comfortable. And the wildflowers were amazing! There were several people out on the trail and a guy fishing nearby caught a good sized trout. Afterward, I had a very affordable (and yummy) dinner in the lodge. I came home and sat on the porch and watched as day turned to night. It was truly a perfect day.

This old house was a half mile down the Rails to Trails system in what was once a booming oil town called Cornwallis…named in honor of Lord Cornwallis. Now, it’s a ghost town with a population of maybe 5. I look at this skeleton of someone’s home and the new growth of spring stands out in sharp contrast. It’s like life and death in one photo. The earth is reclaiming what was once a prized possession yet it’s returning with fresh, green treasures…a prize in its own right. West Virginia is full of the dichotomies of life. It is a poor state monetarily, yet it is rich in resources and natural beauty. I love my home state and I’m proud to be a country girl from the hills.

Enjoy your Saturday! It’s SPRING!!! ❤️

““Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:19-20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Spring Tonic

Sun, 09 Apr 2017 01:55:22 -0600

When I was a very young child, both of my grandmothers decided I was far too pale. There must be something wrong with me. So, they set to work with their home remedies to fix what ailed me.

My paternal grandmother decided I had worms. She went to the spice cabinet and pulled out the powdered sage, dumped a heaping tablespoon into a teacup and stirred in boiling water. No sugar. No honey. No cream. Just sage, sage, sage. Sage tea. It was “good fer what ails ye”. I have no words to describe how horrible it was. And, I had to sit there till I drank the whole thing. Which I did. It isn’t polite to discuss the gastric ramifications of said elixir in mixed company. Suffice it to say, the physical response was proof to my grandmother that she was correct and now I would be fine. I don’t know about worms, but I can assure you I hate sage dressing, sage sausage…anything that’s been sitting in the same cabinet as sage. Horrid stuff.

My maternal grandmother had an entirely different bit of magic in her arsenal. On the first good, warm spring day, grandma would take me hiking up into the woods behind the house. She would browse along, looking at young saplings, and before long, she’d reach down and yank one up, roots and all. Instantly the air was filled with a tangy sweetness that reminded me of root beer. She pulled two or three of these and we headed back to the house. After washing away the dirt, grandma took her trusty potato peeler and stripped away thin slices of the bark from the roots. She told me this was sassafras and it would clean my blood after the stagnant air of the winter.

Grandma placed several of the slips of bark into an old coffee cup, put some sugar on top, and poured piping hot water fresh from the rainwater cistern over it and stirred the concoction. After steeping a bit, she fished out the roots and poured in a little cream to soften and cool the tea. It was deep pink and gave off the most delightful aroma. I happily sat on the kitchen stool, “whoooo-ing” off the heat, and sipping this nectar of the gods. I was in heaven!

Needless to say, sassafras tea wins in the “good for what ails ya” category. Yes, if you Google it, there is scientific evidence if you take one of the components in sassafras and make a concentration a gazillion times stronger than you could ingest in a lifetime and inject into the abdomens of lab rats, they can get cancer. One cup in the springtime has never caused me ill effect and it’s a rite of spring for me so I’ll take my chances. There may be no proven benefits of sassafras tea, other than it can take me back to my grandma’s kitchen in one sip, no matter where I may be in the world. Sipping it here on the farm was a real treat yesterday as I sat in the sunshine and worked the crossword.

And, hey…it tasted even better in my Girl Camper mug (although, in this picture, it looks all the world like “God Camper” which I suppose is even more accurate!) that I got from the Girl Camper herself…Janine Pettit!!!

Spring…a time for renewal and growth, indeed. ❤️

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭51:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Anniversaries and Stuff

Fri, 07 Apr 2017 01:55:24 -0600

As is typical in the spring, yesterday was vastly different than the day before. Wednesday was a brilliant, sunny, warm spring day. After mowing the lawn, I sat in the sunshine on the porch and it got downright hot out there…80 degrees! Yesterday? Not so much. As the south braced for another day of severe weather, we received the aftereffects of the storm front as it came through. It was wet, grey and cold. The thermometer on the front porch hovered at 40° all afternoon and I was chilled through and through.

I hit the taxes hard yesterday, determined I was going to struggle through them and finish so I wouldn’t have that hanging over my head all weekend. Thank goodness for TurboTax. It’s almost foolproof because there’s no way I can make heads or tails of the old way of doing them. Grief brain has changed the way my brain functions. That, and age. I just don’t have the patience. As it was, it took me a week and a half to get everything done. I swear every year I’ll be more organized but there I was again…searching through my newly updated and balanced check register, recording all my deductions.

I always sit in my rocking chair in front of the dining room window when I write my blog post. As I sat gazing out at the ever greening countryside, listening to the steady hiss of a gentle rain on the tin roof, I sipped my afternoon tea and contemplated how different my life is now. Ten years ago today, I married Mr. Virgo. Ten years. A decade has gone by in the blink of an eye. Well, no…not really. It seems absolutely forever ago since that day, yet I remember it so well. We had been having daily snow storms leading up to the wedding and it was planned for outdoors. I was thrilled when it turned into a lovely, warm spring day.

It’s supposed to be very cold here today…weather that doesn’t match my psyche these days. I’m in a good space. I have much to look forward to. I have people to love and to love me back. I have purpose and peace. I could sit here and feel sorry for myself. I could let my mind wander down a rabbit hole. But that does me no good. Today I take my truck in to get it worked on. Today I have things to do. Today I have a beautiful life and my cup is full. I’ll still think of that handsome man from time to time on this momentous day. But I’ll do it with a smile. ❤️

People are People

Tue, 04 Apr 2017 01:55:24 -0600

When I was growing up, I found some photos in my grandma’s buffet. I didn’t understand what they were so I stuck them in my pocket and set off to find her. I needed an explanation. The pictures were of two water fountains with a sign over them. One said “White”. The other said “Colored”. I didn’t get it. There was no difference that I could see. When I found my grandma, I showed her the picture and asked her what was the difference between the two water fountains. Grandma took the picture and saw what it was. Her shoulders slumped and she looked at me with a sadness around her eyes. She sat down in the rocker and pulled me into her lap.

“That was taken in Cleveland when your aunt was teaching there. This is a sad thing in the world. There are places where they keep people separate because of the color of their skin. They won’t let them eat together or drink from the same water fountain or even use the same bathroom. But I want you to know something right here and right now. That is not right! People are people. It doesn’t matter where they’re from, what they believe, or what color they are. The good Lord made all of them. So, don’t you ever let me see you treat anyone badly. Do you understand me?”

I may not have understood the complexities of discrimination in the late ’50s, but I certainly understood my grandma and her brand of unconditional love. I grew up colorblind. I was raised with the admonition that judgement is totally reserved for God. I wasn’t perfect. Of course I judged. We all do from time to time. But I’ve always tried my best to emulate my grandma.

Our society is very much “us vs. them”. We categorize, compartmentalize, sort and label people. By their appearance, politics, beliefs, sexuality, and perceived “place” in the hierarchy of society. I don’t watch TV at all, so it becomes much more obvious to me. I believe television, movies, electronic games, and social media desensitizes and normalizes behaviors we normally would not abide with. It’s harder to see the similarities between us when the rhetoric is loud. I honestly try to see both sides of every story. It vexes me these days, but I do try.

I stumbled upon this Danish TV commercial and loved how it looks at us as human. With vast differences and often surprising similarities. I don’t know what the answers are. But I do know I try to love everyone with a Christlike heart. It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid. ❤️

www.facebook.com/TruthInsi…

“You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” ‭‭Leviticus‬ ‭19:34‬ ‭ESV‬

From Out of the Blue

Wed, 29 Mar 2017 01:55:39 -0600

I had a list a mile long of things to do yesterday. It was my errand day…chiropractor, breakfast with a friend, a two hour pamper-me session at the spa, a two mile walk with a salad at the end, again with a friend. In there somewhere I stocked up on cat and bird food at Rural King. Oh, and I bought a gallon of milk on the way home. Hey, I didn’t say it was going to be a stressful day!

On the way into town, my mind wandered as it always does when I drive. I do my best thinking while driving. I was thinking about the computer issues I had Monday and then I thought of backing up files which took me to my iPhone and how I still have pictures on there to clear out. That thought took me to all those photos that used to be on my phone and somehow they disappeared into the Cloud. One such photo was Mr. Virgo in his casket.

Bam!

Damn. I hadn’t thought of that photo in a long time. I haven’t seen it since it mysteriously vanished off my phone maybe two and a half years ago. But I know that photo. I can see it in my mind’s eye. My handsome man, lying still, in repose…his profile strong and familiar, his glasses missing somewhere in the chaos of CPR. I don’t let my mind go there very often. It doesn’t serve me well. At one time it did. There was a time when the only way I could get the tears out was to look at that picture. It was very handy for facilitating my grief. I don’t need that anymore. Still, there it was…like I was actually seeing it. Almost at the same instant, I came around a curve and I could almost hear him say, “Be careful of the rocks.” I felt it rather than heard it. It was weird. There were no rocks and before long, I let the image drift away and went on to other musings.

I picked up the mail and noticed a paper from the insurance company regarding a payment for my ER visit after the wreck. There was a diagnosis I had never seen before. Atherosclerotic Cardiovascular Disease. It meant there was plaque in an artery somewhere and it was picked up on one of the scans. The last time I saw that was Mr. Virgo’s chest x-ray back in 2008 when he wrecked the ATV. The doctor made it a point to tell us there was lots of calcification. He didn’t mention it could kill him via a heart attack or stroke. Which it did five years later. When I saw the diagnosis, I went straight to the hospital and got my records from the ER visit. I breathed a sigh of relief when I read “very slight calcification in the ascending aorta.” There are varying degrees of calcification. Very slight is not unusual for someone my age with a history of high cholesterol, which I keep well controlled. Good…I let that one go.

In my mail was a little brown envelope with a name and return address I did not recognize. When I opened it, here was this sweet little necklace from a fellow Sister on the Fly. No reason. No event. Just, “Hi! I was thinking about you today. Hope you have a great day!” That is why I love this organization. There’s a lot of love between Sisters, whether you know them or not. Made my day!

The massage was divine and exactly what I needed after the stressful day I had with the computer on Monday. A good brisk walk around the park and a salad down by the river with stimulating conversation was a great way to end the day. As I headed back home, it was just getting dark. I was nearing the spot where I felt the warning about the rocks when an oncoming car flashed his lights. I came around the curve and there, in the middle of the road…was a rockslide! The hair stood up on the back of my neck. And I thanked God and Mr. Virgo and my Guardian Angels for looking out for me.

A warning, a diagnosis, a gift, a miracle. You do not know what your day will bring you. Open your mind and your heart and listen. We don’t listen enough. We go about our busy lives with our heads down and our noses to the grindstone. Stop and listen. Pay attention. And try obeying, even if it seems silly. You never know what is going to come at you…from out of the blue. ❤️

“Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Hiking the Farm

Sun, 26 Mar 2017 01:55:07 -0600

Processed with Snapseed.

Yesterday was glorious! Seventy-some degrees, intermittent clouds, gently breeze. I got my exercise by hiking up the hill to the back property line of the farm. There are seventy-four acres here to explore. It was gorgeous. I went to the old home place. The only thing left is the ruins of the old cellar house. I found a couple of old bottles and picked off some pieces of barn wood. It’s so fragile, you could almost crumble it in your hands. There were scraps of old leather boots and a chunk of glazed pottery from an old crock. The frogs were calling and the puddles were filled with tadpoles. As I came down the ridge below, I heard a racket back up at the strawberry barn and there were four or five huge buzzards coming in to roost for the night on the tin roof. On down the hill, I heard the call of the barred own I hear by the house occasionally. I made note of where the black raspberry patch is.

The yard was filled with dead limbs from the tree by the road so it took some time to get those hauled over to the brush pile. The peonies are up about a foot. The daffodils are in full bloom. There is a huge shrub in all the tangle by the creek that has exploded with deep coral pink blossoms. The rhododendron and boxwood by the drive are very healthy looking. Once the work and hike were done, I cooked up a huge batch of salmon cakes and steamed broccoli. After supper, I boxed up the leftovers and delivered them around to neighbors…something I’ve been wanting to do since I got here in August.

Yesterday was one of those days that makes you feel like you just got let out of jail. It was beautiful and liberating and I could finally breathe!

Ahhhh…the freedom of spring! ❤️

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

#share, #blessed, #abundance

The Legacy

Sun, 19 Mar 2017 01:55:46 -0600

It’s funny. When you are in a car accident, they tell you, “Go home and rest.” If any of you have been in a significant wreck, you know how difficult it is to actually do. There’s a million errands, doctor’s visits, insurance appointments, rental car, and then the shopping for a replacement vehicle. The last thing that gets done is rest and that’s when everything else is taken care of.

I’ve finally had the chance to turn down the dial and relax at the end of this last week. Laundry, read a magazine, listen to the Norah Jones channel on Pandora, nap, and catch up with friends and family on the phone. I even watched a movie…Silver Linings Playbook. I made a wonderful quiche and shared half with my neighbors.

As I sat last night in the living room of this sweet little farmhouse, listening to the rain on the tin roof, I could hear the low, Zen tones of the new wind chime I put on the front porch. It reminds me of the background music you hear in a spa when you get a massage. My heart was suddenly full and I felt such peace it made tears sting the back of my eyes.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my legacy. The one I’ve been given…the one I will leave. Having the opportunity to live within the home of my heart on the family farm has brought me a deep sense of peace. It has healed a place in my heart. I remember the day I walked back into this house with my grandma when she had to leave Pop-Pop at the hospital for the very last time. I remember her great love and her profound heartbreak. And I witnessed her strength. Her faith. And how she made peace with her loss. Something turned over in my own heart last night. It felt like opening my hand and letting a small bird fly away. A healing occurred in just that moment. That’s the nature of grief. Waves of grief are often met with periods of profound healing and insight. It was a beautiful thing.

The legacy I was given was love and compassion. Living here during this time of healing is a gift from others who received that same love and compassion. My legacy is in my words…in my actions…in my heart that I readily share with others. I hope my grandchildren and their grandchildren and theirs after that will someday read what I have written and get to know my heart…get to know who I was long, long after I’m gone.

Movies do this to me. Music does this. Rain on a tin roof does it. My heart melts and fills with love. And my life is full and rich and warm. I just wanted to share a little of it with you today and wish you love. ❤️

“We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭78:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

We All Rock!

Sat, 18 Mar 2017 01:55:10 -0600

My friend Deneene is a hippie. I say that in the most positive way. She’s free. She wears harem pants and great shirts and forty bracelets. She is always sporting a new henna tattoo. She’s an accomplished horsewoman with nerves of steel. She’s a widow with a healing heart. And…she paints rocks.

She shared this talent with the Girl Campers last weekend at Blackwater Falls. I tried my hand at it and I’m not sure I have the patience it entails to do such small details. I have to admit, I did not fully understand what this whole rock painting thing was about until I saw the Western WV Rocks page on FB. People paint these rocks and stick a little label on the bottom instructing the finder to post a picture on the Rocks FB page and where they found it. Then they hide it someplace else for someone else to find. Some people write inspirational messages on the rocks instead of pictures. Some write scriptures. It’s great fun and a free way to connect with others and send joy out into the world!

A few months ago, I noticed Deneene had taken an interest in all things elephant. Rings, necklaces, harem pants…if it had an elephant on it, she was diggin’ it. For a long time, she couldn’t figure out why she had this sudden fascination. It seemed like everywhere she turned, there was an elephant. Over the weekend, Deneene was telling her new friends the story of losing her husband to a sudden heart attack. She told them how Mike told her he’d had some episodes of “asthma” that made him feel like he had an elephant sitting on his chest. She suddenly stopped in mid-sentence and had an A-HA moment. Just like I see bluebirds and others smell cigar smoke around me, she’s getting elephants from her guardian angel.

Deneene told her daughter about the elephant sightings and she pooh-poohed the whole thing saying it was a coincidence. I went to lunch with Deneene yesterday and we went into an antique store afterwards to look around. She had just finished telling me about her daughter’s skepticism when we both looked down at a bowl and gasped. There, sitting on the top, was a beautiful elephant cookie cutter!!! I mean, really…when was the last time YOU saw an elephant cookie cutter? I’ve been baking for 50 years and I’ve never seen one!

Guardian angels. Elephants. Blue birds. Cigar smoke. I believe. The Bible says humans do not become angels. But it’s also very clear we HAVE guardian angels. What better way to let us know they’re watching out for us than to leave a trace that is unmistakably connected to our lost loved one? I find it so comforting and reassuring to know…with absolute certainty…there is so much more than what we see in this world. ❤️

““But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” ‭‭Mark‬ ‭13:32‬ ‭NIV‬‬t

Death by Design - Podcast

Fri, 17 Mar 2017 01:55:39 -0600

A few months ago, I was approached by Kimberly Paul for an interview on her new podcast show…Death by Design. Have you ever come across someone that you just KNOW? Our interview was via Skype and as soon as I saw her live on the screen I’m like…“I know you!” In the time since the interview, we’ve become fast friends and she is planning to come see me when I travel to the Outer Banks next month.

Kimberly has her own personal experience with grief when she lost the love of her life. She also has worked nearly two decades in hospice and has a very clear picture of what dying well in America really looks like. We strive to live well. Shouldn’t we strive to die well, too? Kimberly asks the tough questions about death and dying but she asks them with grace and tenderness. I am so honored she chose to feature me in this week’s episode of Death by Design. And, I’m happy to have another strong woman for a friend.

content.blubrry.com/deathbyde…

Have a listen and share the love. ❤️

“Blessed are those who find wisdom, those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:13-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Evidence of Things Unseen

Tue, 14 Mar 2017 01:55:45 -0600

I have a guy friend that has had his eye out for a good deal on a truck for me. Not that I can’t find my own good deal, but I took off for a much needed break this weekend and looking for a truck wasn’t high on my list of priorities for a couple of days. Still, time is marching on here and I need to get the rental car turned in.

When I returned from the mountains on Sunday, I received texts with pictures and a description of two trucks that fit my wish list pretty well. I particularly liked one of them and called first thing yesterday to see if it was still there and it was. Remember my Prayer for Provision? I asked for a newer truck. This one was two years newer. I asked for much lower mileage. This one had one third the miles of my old truck. I asked for new tires. This one just had new tires put on by the dealer. I asked for a one owner car. This was a lease return with one owner. I really wanted a back up camera. This one had one. I also wanted a Super Crew Cab because sometimes I like to just sleep on the floor of the back seat when I’m camping without the trailer and the Super Crew gives you a lot more room back there. I wanted Bluetooth. Done. It had to have the tow package. This one had it. It drove like a dream. Not a scratch on it. Clean as a whistle.

We sat down and talked price. Through careful negotiations, I only had to loan myself $1000 through a low interest charge card which I’ll pay off in three months. I would say this is proof of prayers answered. But wait till you hear the rest of the story.

When my friend picked me up yesterday for the drive to Clarksburg, I was getting in when he said, “Hey…look in the pocket of the door there. I came out of the store awhile ago and that CD was laying beside the passenger door. There was no one around, so I picked it up.” I reached in and pulled out the CD. Thorogood. George Thorogood. I remembered the name but I’ve never been good at remembering which songs a certain artist did. I turned the CD over and my jaw dropped. “Bad to the Bone”. I started laughing and clapping my hands. My friend glanced over, not quite sure how to take this sudden display so I had to explain. When Mr. Virgo had a restaurant in Pagosa Springs, he was well known for miles around to have the best prime rib. His commercial on the local radio station opened with “Bad to the Bone”! Of COURSE that is the CD that was dropped in front of the door I would enter shortly. How could it NOT be?

In addition, my salesperson turned out to be from my hometown and her aunt is one of my high school classmates. Synchronicity. Prayers answered. Signs dropped. Buying the truck was easy, effortless, and it is exactly what I needed. Meet “Norma Rae”, my new chariot! Thank you, God. Your provision is more than I could ever hope for and I am so grateful. ❤️

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” ‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:1‬ ‭KJV‬‬

How the Girls Help With My Grief

Mon, 13 Mar 2017 01:55:06 -0600

I belong to a couple of camping groups that I’m active with. Sisters on the Fly came first. Lying in my bed four years ago, I clutched my iPad to my chest and searched through my photo albums for every picture of Mr. Virgo. I was bereft. My heart was shattered and I wasn’t sure I could survive such a loss. Instinct…sixth sense…Holy Spirit…I was led to seek out other women to walk with me on my path.

I found a letter to the Reverend Billy Graham the other night. In it, a widow of just a few months explains how her husband died unexpectedly in his sleep and she didn’t get a proper goodbye. She asked Rev. Graham to help her. I was heartened when I read his response. He told the new widow to put her faith in God and find other widows she could help. In the helping, she would find help herself. That is exactly what Marshmallow Ranch has done for me. And Sisters on the Fly was the springboard that got me started.

A couple of years ago, I went to the Country Living Fair in Nashville with the Sisters. It was there I met Janine Pettit. Janine was a breath of fresh air and sunshine in her signature red plaid. She was working the show with goRVing.com and spoke with knowledge and eloquence about all things camper related. Janine is a huge promoter of women getting out there and “Going Places…Doing Things”. I was drawn to her immediately. I’ve been a guest several times on her Girl Camper podcast. She’s developed quite a following as she encourages women to take the plunge and join any of the girl-camping groups.

This past weekend, I joined Janine and eighteen or so Girl Campers for a crafting weekend in a cabin at Blackwater Falls State Park. I took my friend Deneene with me because soon she will be observing the second Angelversary of her husband’s passing. We met Cindy there. Cindy’s husband died one year ago today. Damn. Women supporting women through the good times and the bad times while reaching beyond our boundaries…that’s why I joined these groups. The comfort and support I give is returned to me 100-fold. I love my camping sisters. As I observed the passing of the fourth Angelversary, I was reminded how incredibly blessed I am. To have God and to have love.

And now….the fifth year begins. ❤️

“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

Perception

Wed, 08 Mar 2017 02:55:06 -0600

When I was sixteen, my world changed like every other teenager with a new driver’s license. It wasn’t just my freedom and ability to come and go more easily, but also my perception of the natural world around me. Driving piqued my senses and made me much more aware of my surroundings, and being artistic, that included the way I saw my world.

I remember one mid-summer day, I was heading out of the house and into my mom’s 1964 Ford Fairlane 500 to meet up with my friends. As I turned to close and lock the door behind me, I was suddenly captivated with the way the sun caught on the huge forsythia bush by the back door. While the brilliant yellow of the spring blossoms was long gone, the verdant green foliage was so intense, it almost hurt my eyes. I stood in wonder and let that moment wash over me like watercolors on fresh, velvety paper. I can still, at 63, close my eyes and see that scene in my mind.

I awoke yesterday as the sun broke briefly through the rain clouds of the past few days. My eyes instinctively moved to the ridge of the hill across the road as I watched the morning sunlight work its way down through the woods. That’s when I caught sight of something that took my breath away. Overnight, as if by magic, the large, bare, nondescript shrub on the creek bank outside the bedroom window had exploded in a riot of soft pink blossoms. I sat bolt upright and stared out the window as I marveled at this sudden appearance of spring right under my nose. I smiled and my heart exploded with joy. I cannot recall noticing this bush in all the springs I have visited the farm, but the gift of the moment was not lost on me. I thought of my grandma and all the many mornings she woke up in this bed and saw that first blush of spring out her window. She always said there was nowhere else in the world that she would ever want to live and I can surely understand now what she meant.

Awareness. Mindfulness. Deep appreciation. Gratitude. I live and breathe these on a daily basis here on the farm in the home of my heart. Who knows how long I will be blessed with the opportunity to live in this little slice of heaven…but, while I can, I will cherish every moment I am given here. ❤️

My Guardian Angel

Tue, 07 Mar 2017 02:55:55 -0600

Have you ever done a search on Google to research something in the Bible? I never even read the Bible till 2004 after my mom died. Between that and “A Purpose Driven Life” I came to really love this Jesus guy and what he had to say about peaceful living so I became a Christian. I’m not a biblical scholar by any means, so I have to study the Bible a lot to come up with the perfect scripture to accompany my posts that illustrates what my thinking was when writing. It would be so much easier to just pick a verse and write something about that. I do it backwards but I learn more, I believe.

I’ve been thinking a lot about something that happened in the aftermath of the car accident I was in recently. I’ve been thinking about guardian angels and what the Bible has to say about them. Google gave me a boatload of verses and I dove in to see if what I suspected could be true. I wrote a lengthy post about this shortly after the accident, but in reading it afterward, I felt there was too much detail about the accident itself so to protect the identity of others, I removed it. I want to revisit that a little bit…especially after a conversation I had with Daughter #1 this weekend.

While I was sitting in my truck after the accident, an EMT reaching up from the back seat holding my head still, I could see in the side view mirror. The State Highway Patrolman arrived to investigate and as he came around the back end of my truck, called out, “Boys? Who’s smokin’ a cigar back here?” I looked up at the rescue people and they were all looking at each other, puzzled. No one was smoking a cigar. I said to the young EMT, “Did you hear that? Did he say he smelled cigar smoke?” He answered that, indeed, he had. I smiled and said, “My late husband is here.” I knew I was going to be ok.

Now, here’s the other half of the story. I finally had a chance to have a lengthy conversation with my daughter a few days after the accident. She told me there was something she hadn’t told me yet. She wanted to know if I knew what time the accident occurred. I told her and she said not too long before that, my son-in-law was driving my granddaughters to school when an Uber driver ran a stop sign without even glancing in his direction. He was driving a small SUV with my 13-year-old granddaughter in the front seat (she’s plenty tall enough) and the 9-year-old in the back. He stood on the brakes, just as I had done, but miraculously he stopped inches from t-boning the driver which would have most assuredly set off their airbags and could have caused serious injury to my loved ones.

So, here’s my theory. Mr. Virgo was out on the back nine in heaven, playing a round of golf, when he sensed trouble brewing down below. What if…what if, somehow he was able to tell God, “Look, this is one tough woman with a mighty big truck. She can take it. Can you intervene in here and save her babies from getting hurt? That would just kill her. Can we do that?” We don’t know the ways of God. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But maybe…just maybe…my guardian angel was watching out for me and left the scent of cigar smoke to tell me he was there. I’ll never know for sure this side of heaven, but I like to think it’s a possibility. ❤️

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭91:11-12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Statue artist: LA Williams Photo credit: Fairy Glen

Spring is in the Air

Mon, 20 Feb 2017 02:55:04 -0600

Spring is just around the corner. Warm days are ahead. The sunshine is warming the earth and rain is bringing things back to life. I’m always amazed how early the grass greens up here in West Virginia. The green leaves of the spring flowers are up several inches so it won’t be long till splashes of color will dot the landscape. As a matter of fact, there are snowdrops already blooming down along the creek.

With the recent passing of Valentine’s Day and the advent of Spring soon upon us, love is all around us. New lambs and calves are making their appearance. Leaves are already popping out on the honeysuckle vines that grace the roadside where I walk down the lane. As we venture outside, I’ve noticed lovers holding hands as they stroll through the park, along the river, in the mall. I remember in the first couple of years after losing Mr. Virgo, I hated seeing people in love. I wanted to smack them.

The third year I decided I would never love again. A couple of disastrous dating experiences sent me running back to the relative safety of reading and writing alone every night. Now I’m approaching the fourth Angelversary and I’m thinking this isn’t the way I want to spend the rest of my life. I’d like some company. I’d like a friend to do fun things with. I’d like someone to share the excitement of travel. Someone to talk to. Someone to have my back and I his.

I’m feeling ready for a partner. And…I like my alone time. I like not having to answer to anyone. I like doing my own thing, making my own decisions, going where the wind takes me. Incorporating someone into your life when you’ve been alone for a few years takes some compromise and some getting used to. But, hey…what if you found someone that loves all the things you love like travel, cooking, movies, dancing, dining out AND he likes HIS alone time, too? What if you got to draw up the blueprints of a new relationship and it was exactly the way you wanted it AND it worked for him, too? Yeah…a pipe dream, to be sure. But it’s something to think about. And pray about.

I’m telling you this…I’m done with the online dating thing. I promised God I wouldn’t go out and try to find a guy because I think my picker is broken. I told him if He wants me to have someone in my life, He’s (quite literally) going to have to send him to my door with a sign around his neck saying “God sent me!”. If it happens, fine. If it doesn’t happen, fine. But I’m open to the possibility and that’s a huge step.

What about you all? Are any of you starting to think you might want to try another relationship? It’s ok if you aren’t. There are as many ways to do things as there are people. Many women would never think of being with someone else. And, it’s ok if you are. Personal fulfillment is a highly individualized thing. Feel free to share if you like. Spring is in the air! ❤️

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:6-7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Perfect Day

Thu, 02 Feb 2017 02:55:13 -0600

What an incredible day yesterday was! The temperature got up to 72. I walked nearly four miles on the beach, went back to my hotel and played in the pool and played in the sun. Then went for a long drive all the way down the peninsula to Pass-A-Grille Beach. Turned around and stopped at the shops at John’s Pass near Madeira Beach. Watched yet another beautiful Florida sunset and ended the night by taking myself out for dinner at The Conch Republic. Yummy seafood there and a fun ambiance! Got back to my hotel and was whupped so I’m sharing a post I wrote a couple years ago that someone else shared yesterday. It’s fairly timely.

Florida sunshine is being good to me! ❤️

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

www.facebook.com/Marshmall…

THE DOOR

Fri, 27 Jan 2017 02:55:58 -0600

There is nothing beautiful about becoming a widow. It’s scary and sad and extraordinarily painful. For the longest time, I was certain there would never be joy again, even as I traveled in TOW-Wanda. I sat in a chair looking at a closed door. On the other side of that door was the rest of my life. Christina Rasmussen calls this the Waiting Room. We touched on that last week. I sat there for the longest time…in fear. I wasn’t afraid to move forward because I was alone. I wasn’t. God led my every breath and directed my every step as I navigated this grief journey. As a matter of fact, I can look back and see where every stumble was because I took my focus off of Him and tried to drive the bus on my own. I have long since decided I’m much better off when I ride shotgun with Jesus at the wheel. But, I was still afraid of moving forward.

Fear of the unknown had me stuck. Fear of losing what little tangible evidence of the great love we had kept me from opening my heart to even the possibilities of loving again. I couldn’t bear the thought of loving…only to lose everything all over again. So, I sat…and waited, and waited, and waited. I’m not talking about my physical presence. That I was taking all over God’s green earth…to search for solace and peace and release from this hell I’d been thrust into. No, my physical being was doing quite well…seeing places I’d never seen, doing things I’d never done. All the while, my heart and mind sat, carefully eyeing that door.

One day I was standing in the headwaters of the Frying Pan River. I had been fishing from the bank. It was a beautiful, hot, late-summer day. The current was gentle where I was. Suddenly, I felt restless…bored…frustrated. I realized I was tired of sitting there…waiting. I laid my rod and reel down, slipped out of my shoes and socks, rolled up my jeans and stepped into the icy water. The jolt from the cold made me gasp for air and I squealed as I stepped from stone to slippery stone. I walked to the middle and stood looking upstream. The door wasn’t there. That is the past from whence I came. It was done…no changing that. I turned downstream and envisioned the door. That was where I needed to go, fear or no fear. I closed my eyes and listened to the river riffling over the stones at my feet. I felt the water caress my knees as it coursed past me, making its way down out of the Rockies and into the sea. I reached out in my mind and touched the door. The smooth wood felt like satin under my fingertips. I slid my hand down and grasped the door knob and turned. With great trepidation, I pushed ever so lightly as the door slowly swung open wide. My heart was pounding because I knew once I opened that door, there was no turning back. I took a deep breath and stepped through.

Nothing big happened. No cymbals crashing or trumpet call. Still, I had this sense of change come over me, like a cocoon opening and I stood trembling…waiting for my wings to fill out and dry. As I stood there, I became acutely aware of a bird calling in the tree above me. A camp robber was scolding me for intruding into its space. I turned my face up to the sun and let it warm me. The scent of the pines was so thick you could cut it with a knife. My heartbeat slowed down and I was free. Free to move forward at my own pace. Free to feel the sun and the wind and the water. Free to embrace this new life one choice at a time. Has it been easy? Decidedly not. Has it been scary? Certainly, at times. But has it been worth opening that door and stepping through? Oh, my gosh…yes, yes, yes. A resounding yes! There is healing in letting go. There is liberation in letting my heart open to even feel the possibilities of loving another. There is hope.

When I was sitting staring at that door, I had no idea what was waiting on the other side. I just took a leap of faith because it was just too painful for me to stay where I was. I needed to have hope. I needed to believe it would get better. And it has…thank God. ❤️

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

OUTSIDE IS FREE

Wed, 25 Jan 2017 02:55:29 -0600

As I plug along and copy the content from my blog here on Facebook and move it to my new website, I try to work from both ends of the spectrum. I work on new stuff for a while, then I work on the older, early writings. I have to do it this way as the early stuff is so painful…most of the time. Right now, I’m in the midst of the first spring/summer after losing Mr. Virgo. I have purchased Little TOW-Wanda and I’ve been out on The Grand Adventure for quite some time. I am enjoying looking back at the pictures of all the beautiful places I visited. So much of that year is a blur to me. The brain fog of grief had me pretty firmly in its grip for the first year and seeing these photos, and reading the meager writing I was able to produce fills in some blanks and makes me long for getting out on the open road again…wind in my hair, tiara twinkling in the sunlight.

As most of the nation struggles with snow and cold, we are still deluged with this incessant rain. Grey skies are gonna clear up…put on a happy face! Meh. I’m not feeling it. I have been plunked down in front of this computer for days and it is slow going. But every day is progress and I will reward myself with an outing to town today or tomorrow.

Yesterday was the Angelversary of my mother’s death. I posted it on my personal page and received an outpouring of love from friends and family. I love that people remember her and tell stories about her. I love that they speak her name. One of the things I hear the most from my readers who are grieving is they wish people would say his name. Talk about him, tell stories, remember. It normalizes grief. It acknowledges the fact that this wonderful person lived and we got to live with them. It keeps their memory alive. I appreciate that. I love it when someone tells me a funny mom story or Mr. Virgo story. My mom…I loved to make her laugh. And I had a talent for it. She lived a hard life and I took it upon myself to entertain her, boost her spirits, and make her laugh till she cried. Oh, I aggravated the heck out of her sometimes, too. That’s the nature of the mother-daughter relationship, is it not? But, her laughter was like sunshine to me and I would do whatever I could to bask in that glow.

I called her every Sunday night. Without fail. And I tried to visit her in West Virginia at least once a year. She came to Colorado a few times. I once lived in a very tiny house. Hubby #2 was in medical school and was on a rotation of work one night, sleep one night, study one night…on and on and on for nearly three years. For some reason…I didn’t see my mom during that time. There wasn’t room for visitors at my house and no money for a hotel or for a plane ticket home. So, I just didn’t see her. I made excuses. I put her off. I hate that I did that. I’ll never forget when I did finally make it home for a visit, her hair had gone completely white! I was convinced it was all my fault. Silly, that…but still. I can’t imagine not seeing my girls for nearly three years. It had to have been difficult for her. I tried to make up for it in her last years. I think I probably did. She was a very forgiving soul when it came to me. Not that I deserved it. But a mother’s love, you know.

I’m going on an adventure in a few days. Are you ready to travel with me? Get your sunscreen and your flip-flops out…there’s sand, sun, and surf coming your way soon! Wahoo!!! ❤️

“"‘Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God commanded you, that your days may be long, and that it may go well with you in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” ‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭5:16‬ ‭ESV‬

SEE THE STARS

Tue, 17 Jan 2017 02:55:23 -0600

I stumbled around for the longest time in the darkness of grief. I told people it was like trying to defuse a bomb blindfolded. One wrong move and I would just disappear…evaporate into a billion little pieces. I used to feel like I was, quite literally, one crisis away from losing it altogether. If one more bad thing happened, if I had to deal with one more medical emergency, if I had to white-knuckle my way through one more disaster…I just knew I didn’t have it in me. The thing is…I look back over the last nearly four years since Mr. Virgo’s death and I realize I survived every single thing that was thrown at me…exactly 100% of the time. There are still moments when I feel myself hanging on…but now it’s by the heavy chains of a sea freighter’s anchor…not by a thin, ever weakening thread.

Time has done a great deal to show me I am much stronger than I thought. God has never, ever let me down and I trust He will always either provide a safe place to land or teach me to fly. In the light of day, every single star in the half of the universe we face is there. We just can’t see them because of the sun. When things are going well and you are feeling strong and healthy, all the threads leading to your support system are there…but you don’t notice them because there is so much light in your life. It’s when things get dark…when there isn’t even a moon…that’s when you need to look for the stars. You need to look for those tiny beacons of light…those loved ones, those helpers, those angels, and for the Strength of the One who is greater than yourself. As Dr. Martin Luther King said…“Only in the darkness can you see the stars.”

As I was leaving church Sunday morning, I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped. One of the ladies I’m getting to know came up and welcomed me back after my long trip to Colorado. We exchanged greetings then she told me how much she enjoys reading Marshmallow Ranch every day…that it is so uplifting. She went on to say that even though she has not lost a husband, there are all kinds of grief and my posts have helped her. I have been moving the early posts of my blog from Facebook to the new website this week. That means I dive back down into the darkest, most paralyzing time of my life. And it wears on me. I have dreams again of CPR and ambulances and caskets. I was feeling really tired Sunday morning after another night of fitful sleep. But when my church friend put her arm around my shoulder and told me how much my writing helps her, and others, it lifted me up. It made me feel centered and stronger and more forward focused. And I told her so and thanked her for telling me.

We should lift each other up at every opportunity. When I write my posts, I do not know what is going on in your lives. I don’t know what you need to hear. But I always pray over my keyboard and ask God to bring me the words He wants me to say and the people who need to hear it. Then I seek ways I can be of service to Him. I knock on the door of his heart and ask him to shower me with these blessings that I beseech of Him. And finally, I ask him to walk with His hand over all of YOU, to guard YOU, to bring peace, healing, and abundance into your lives. I was so grateful to be lifted up on Sunday. It set the tone for the week ahead.

When it is dark…may you see the stars. ❤️

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up….” ‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

OLD MAMA KITTY

Mon, 09 Jan 2017 03:00:32 -0600

We’ve lost track how old she is. Twenty-three? Twenty-four, maybe? She’s old. And she’s sweet as sugar. She came along some time after the original “Old Mama Kitty” was found, cold and still, lying on a bale of hay in the neighbor’s shed. She, too, was ancient. She was my Uncle Bob’s kitty. Bob was born with a developmental disability. He lived and worked on the farm his entire life. A kinder and gentler man would be nigh on to impossible to find. His “job” was ring the church bell every Sunday…a position he took very seriously and performed religiously, so to speak.

No one told Uncle Bob that his old kitty had passed away. They didn’t have the heart. But one day, this sweet kitty who looked exactly like the original, came strolling up the yard by the creek. Bob saw her and his face lit up like a Christmas tree as he exclaimed, “There she is! Old Mama Kitty back!” So, this kitty is Old Mama Kitty, too.

I was really worried when I didn’t see her last night and again this morning. That isn’t like her. Usually she is right there when you feed her…waiting for that one brief scratch on her head that she will allow and a couple rubs against your leg. The last few days have been desperately cold here at the farm with highs in the low teens. These are outdoor farm cats, so I know they’re tough. But old kitties are more fragile. I decided I’d better do something better than the outdoor cat boxes I had provided out on the back porch. I went to Rural King after church and bought electric pet mats and a heated water dish. I fixed up their beds when I got home, in hopes that Old Mama Kitty would show up. I no sooner finished when here she came! I was so relieved! I went right out with a dish of the soft canned food she loves so much and she ate like she was starved. Within ten minutes, she had found her now warm little house and had curled up inside. It made my heart warm, too. I have grown very attached to her.

When I returned from Thanksgiving, there was a tiny orange and white kitten here increasing my feline entourage to three. Come to find out, the little kitten belongs to the lady who feeds the cats when I’m gone. It must have hitched a ride in her engine when she was here over the holiday. She would love to have it back, but it’s been too cold to catch it, and now it is attached to Boy Cat so I doubt it would stay away at this point. The neighbor says that’s fine…as long as it’s well cared for. Interestingly, this little kitten’s littermate looks exactly like Old Mama Kitty. That would have been just too much synchronicity had that been the one that showed up.

I have no idea how long I’ll have this old gal here. But I’ll love her to pieces..for my Uncle Bob. It’ll feel like losing him all over again when she is gone. ❤️

“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭11:6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

WHEN BAD THINGS HAPPEN

Sat, 07 Jan 2017 03:00:08 -0600

When Bad Things Happen

Since the beginning of time, bad things have happened. There is evil in the world and when senseless acts of violence happen, it is sometimes difficult to see God. This was a pretty bad week in the world. Four people beat a stranger and broadcast it online…live. A madman opened fire in an airport. My friend’s son hit a tree with his face when he was skiing (he’s ok, thank God!). Freak snowstorms wreaked havoc on the highways and byways of America. Politics…don’t get me started. It’s been a hard week. Where was God?

The first thing to remember is…God does not bring evil to us. God loves us and it pains Him to see evil things happen to His children. God is love. Those of us who are widows or have lost other important family members may very well have heard this age old platitude…“We don’t always understand why God does the things He does, but everything happens for a reason.” What a terrible thing to say to someone when they are hurting! That their pain is somehow God’s plan…God’s fault. He never hurts us…he only loves us. But, when these bad things are happening, why is it so hard to feel Him?

Here’s the thing…if bad things didn’t happen in the world, if there was no pain, if our lives were effortless and trouble free, we wouldn’t NEED God. We would never seek Him and ask for His comfort. God wants us to turn to Him in times of trouble, but He doesn’t cause the trouble. Mr. Rogers used to tell the children in his television audience a story about his mother. When he was a little boy and saw disturbing things happen, his mother told him to look for the helpers. There will always be helpers who come to the aid of the victims. As I watched the events in Ft. Lauderdale unfold yesterday, it would be easy to say, “How can a loving God let this happen to innocent people? People whose only “crime” was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” As the day wore on, I saw the videos running behind the reporters and there they were…the helpers. The fellow passengers who opened suitcases to grab articles of clothing to bind wounds. The strangers who held hands and prayed. The people circling a man who was so distraught from the scene that he was bent over a trashcan throwing up. There were hands on shoulders. Arms wrapped around strangers. Police and firemen and rescue workers flocking to aid and protect. God was everywhere.

When evil acts are occurring, you cannot see God’s Hands. It is only when you look back and reflect that you see the remarkable, unmistakable acts of a loving, hurting God. Take the events of 9/11 as an example. People came together and loved one another like many of us had never seen in our lifetimes. Foundations and alliances were formed. Funds were collected. The nations of the world came together in love. Evil acts occur. There is darkness in the world. But there is also light. Pray for the victims and their families. Pray for our service workers and leaders. Pray for the families of the perpetrators…what horrors they must be going through as well. But always…always look for the helpers. Look for the light. ❤️

““I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭NIV‬‬

"UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN"

Fri, 06 Jan 2017 03:00:44 -0600

“Until We Meet Again”

I stumbled across this picture on Pinterest last night. A woman had her and her husband’s wedding bands repurposed into a necklace she could wear. The diamonds were from her engagement ring. I thought this was a lovely sentiment and wondered what those of you who are widowed might have done with your wedding rings.

I’m a member of several closed groups for widows. They are mostly involved with travel but some are just safe places where you can go and say things you would never say anywhere else. I remember belonging to one such group early after losing Mr. Virgo. I would often read through the posts in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. Occasionally someone would come into the “chat room” looking for someone to talk to during a particularly bad night. One night, a woman came in and asked if there was anyone out there who could talk and I answered. We visited awhile and I became increasingly alarmed when she made statements like “I don’t want to do this anymore.” And “I just want to die so I can be with him.” I asked if there was someone I could call for her and did she need help. I asked if she had plans to hurt herself. She assured me she did not, but it was just such a struggle. She seemed to settle down and I eventually asked her how long it had been since her husband had died. By the way she sounded, and given my own personal experience, I figured maybe six to eight months. I was stunned when she said ten years! OMGosh! I surely didn’t want to feel like this for ten years!!! That’s when I really realized what an individual journey grief is. No…we each experience it quite differently.

A few months after Mr. Virgo died, one of my friends asked me and several of my closest friends over for a girls weekend. We got in our jammies as soon as we arrived and we brought our needlework projects with us. It reminded me of the days when we were new moms and we’d gather for Wednesday morning “Stitch ’n B****” complete with coffee and pastries. When things got rough, there were mimosas. There were lots of tears and plenty of laughter that weekend as my tribe encircled me with their love. My friend, Judy, gave me a small petit point box and said “One of these days, you may want to take off your wedding ring and store it with his. Here’s a little box I bought in Europe. It will be the perfect size.” I held the box to my chest and sobbed because I hadn’t even thought of not wearing my ring. I couldn’t imagine it. But, there came a day. I can’t tell you when or what happened. I just knew the time had come to tuck my ring in with Mr. Virgo’s. I actually went to a jeweler to have a necklace made from them, but our rings were so big and heavy, he said it would be no time till it would wear through and break the chain and I’d run the risk of losing them. I didn’t have the heart to melt them into something unrecognizable, so they have sat in the petit point box, inside a red leather box, for about three years now.

Maybe someday I’ll do something with my rings. What have you done with yours? Have you had anything made? Have you heard of any really cool ideas? Feel free to share. My settings don’t allow photos, but if you’d like to send some in a private message, I’ll see if I can create a little album with your photos. With Valentine’s Day coming up, it might be a wonderful way to memorialize you loved one and what you meant to one another. ❤️

“Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them. He said: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:1-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

TONIGHT'S PEACEFUL MOMENT: RESOLUTIONS

Thu, 05 Jan 2017 18:30:41 -0600

Tonight’s first “Peaceful Moment” of 2017 is about resolutions and how they might not work in one big moment. But…give them lots of little moments and see what happens!

youtu.be/Sn36cBi9v…

IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU...UNLESS IT IS

Thu, 05 Jan 2017 03:00:51 -0600

It’s Not About You…Unless It Is

In keeping with the theme of the New Year and yesterday’s post about body image, let’s explore a little more about self….self-image, self-control. How many times have you felt the sting of someone else’s judgement? How often have we believed what someone else has said about us? And I’m not just talking about people we know and love…people who are supposed to love us. I’m also talking about complete strangers…the rude man behind us in the checkout line…the clerk at the post office…the young girls on the bus who snicker behind their hands, whispering something you can’t quite hear but you know it’s you they are targeting.

Judgement. We experience it every day. And face it…we do it ourselves all too often. No? Remember that old lady taking her half out of the middle on the freeway this morning? Yeah…I thought so. We try…we fail…we try again. One of the Four Agreements is “Don’t take anything personally.” It’s not about you. It’s just not. When someone says something bad about/to you…it has everything to do with where they are in their journey in life. It has absolutely nothing to do with you personally. It’s a little harder to take when you think that something they say GOOD about you doesn’t have anything to do with you either. Ouch! But here’s where we forget to turn the statement around.

When YOU judge someone else…when YOU gossip about someone else…when YOU say something sharp and mean to another person, known or unknown…it has NOTHING to do with THEM and EVERYTHING to do with YOU. Double ouch! It has everything to do with where you are on your journey…in your development…in the course of the evolution of your mind and spirit. I am as guilty of this as anyone and will be the first to admit I don’t always turn it around when I’m the perpetrator. I have a tendency to want to blame someone else for my sad state of personal growth in the moment.

Seventeen years ago, I had a major falling out with my dearest BFF. This was huge…an ugly fight, and a resulting parting of the ways. We didn’t speak for ten years. Then, miraculously, at the ten year mark, I started seeing her here and there on Facebook. I wanted to stay mad because I had placed myself in the poor victim box. I didn’t want to look at my side of the street. One day, she posted a funny video and I was in it. My love for her rushed back in and I realized how much I had missed my friend. I also realized she had no way of knowing the personal growth and insight I had attained during those ten years. So, I reached out. I said “Enough already…I miss you and I hope you’ll take a chance to get to know this newer, wiser version of me…sort of Ginny 4.2.” I’m grateful I chose a good quality friend to begin with because we gifted each other with another chance…a new friendship. It’s not like it was before. WE aren’t who we were before. But I cherish her friendship and welcome this funny, intelligent, beautiful woman back in my life. The high road doesn’t guarantee absolution, unfortunately, but you just might be surprised by the new dynamic an old friendship can take on.

This is a new year…a time for starting over. A fresh slate. If there is someone your actions has affected, now is a really good time to let them know you’ve grown from the experience and you hope they can forgive your stumble as you journey through this thing called life. Maybe you’ll never hear from them again. But…maybe they have been just waiting for you. ❤️

““Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭1:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

THE DANCING OF LIFE

Wed, 04 Jan 2017 03:00:12 -0600

The Dancing of Life

As we head into the New Year, resolutions in hand, I felt it was time to revive a discussion we have periodically about body image. I know I am not the only woman who has had an ongoing love/hate relationship with her body. Thank GOD I’m past that at this beautiful stage of crone-dom! I am supremely confident in my own skin now. I own it. I love it. I know I am beautiful and I work it.

We women, especially those of my generation, were taught to “be seen and not heard”. We were taught that loving yourself and your beauty was vain and being vain is bad…ergo…WE are bad if we see beauty in the mirror. Madison Avenue began a lifelong assault on women with the onset of Twiggy and dictated to us, by the whims of so-called “fashion” designers, what beauty is. What is an acceptable body size? What is acceptable? ACCEPTABLE! Ok, I’m calling “Bullshit, Pauline!” Yes, we should be healthy. And yes, we should be fit enough that we can care for ourselves and our families without collapsing in a heap, sweaty and out of breath. But size? Appearance? Fashion? That matters far less than the kindness you carry inside. I care far more about the size of your heart than the size of your a**!

Those of you who have been following me for some time know that I reached a tipping point about a year ago. I had been asked to speak at the International Conference on Positive Aging in Washington, DC and at the time of the request, I weighed over 200 pounds. I wasn’t disgusting. I wasn’t ugly. I still loved myself. But I wasn’t aging very positively and since that was the point of the conference, I changed my eating habits and started playing outside more often. As a result, I have maintained a weight loss of 41 pounds and have a great deal more energy and stamina. I love myself even more now. That isn’t vain. That is self-caring. We cannot feed another when our own cups are empty.

I’m going to tell you a little story about something that happened last night at dinner. I am telling you this without judgement and I hope you will accept that and be non-judgmental as well. I had dinner last night with Hubby #1 and his wife as they passed through town. I always look forward to visiting with them as I love them and consider them as much my family as my own flesh and blood relatives. We had a lovely dinner at a Japanese restaurant. Our conversation ran the gamut from family to world events to “have you heard from so-and-so?” I thoroughly enjoyed it. As the evening wound down, we donned our coats and prepared to say good-bye till next time, when Hubby #1 touched a lock of my hair and said, “What are you going to do about this?” I looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” I said. “Well…this grey. You usually color your hair. I’m just not used to seeing it like this.” Well, let me tell you…in the past, that would have done two things. Hurt my feelings and ticked me off. I would have internalized the comment and felt bad about how I looked. I would have questioned my decision to let my hair shine its glorious silvery grey and perhaps even made an appointment to see my hairdresser to correct this “problem”. Instead…I laughed. Loud. I smiled at this man I have known and loved since we were literally children. This man who earned the right to speak candidly to me by virtue of sharing my bed for a portion of my life and giving me my firstborn child. I laughed and said, “Hell, no! I love my hair just the way it is! As a matter of fact, I love MYSELF just the way I am…I’m not changin’ nuthin’!” He didn’t say it to be mean. He just hadn’t seen me in a while. And besides, no one else’s opinion means anything to me. MY opinion is what counts.

As the meme attached states, how can you hate anything about your body when you have felt the dance of life within? I was so pleasantly surprised by my own reaction to what would have felt like a barb to the younger, more fragile version of me. Now I revel in this beautiful woman in the mirror…the one with the long silver locks, with the wrinkles and the stretch marks, with the age spots and the cellulite, with the sagging breasts and the poochy belly. I EARNED this beautiful body. Right this very moment, I’m in love with my beautiful, bada** self. And vanity has absolutely nothing to do with that.

Go on. Look in the mirror. Look at that beautiful woman with new eyes. Love her kindly. Be gentle with her heart. Treat her Spirit with the respect she deserves. If she needs a little extra TLC, give it to her. Celebrate her ability to carry you around every day. After all, what you see in that mirror is just your vessel. It’s the you INSIDE that that was created in the image of God. Own that! ❤️

“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” ‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭3:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

AULD LANG SYNE

Sat, 31 Dec 2016 03:00:50 -0600

Well, here it is…the last day of 2016. I didn’t think this year would ever end. It’s been a real mixed bag as far as current events. We lost a number of celebrities we were most familiar with…most all too soon. We went through one of the ugliest political seasons in memory. Weather was unpredictable and natural disasters occurred with far greater frequency than in some years past. Worse than all that, we continue to lose our military and service workers as well as world citizens whose only crime is that they live and breathe in the “wrong” place and time. All this and more brings us down and it has been extremely difficult for many to get through.

Every year, I begin with a new word for the year. Something to hold onto…something to strive for and embrace in an effort to bring into my life and the world in general a positive influence…a higher vibe…in a effort to improve the planet and its inhabitants. This year’s word has been “thrive”. I decided at the end of last year, to nearly “survive” was not nearly good enough and I had to work toward thriving. And I feel I have accomplished that.

I began a new ritual at the beginning of the year. I read, and started praying, the Prayer of Jabez…daily. Within two weeks, I was interviewed and photographed for an article in the New York Times’ finance section on widowhood and retirement. I was subsequently invited to submit a proposal to speak at the International Conference on Positive Aging in Washington, DC. That invitation spurred me to make a drastic lifestyle change and I lost forty-one pounds and increased my activity level…getting outside to play and making new friends in the process. In March, I was interviewed and appeared in a story on Fox News about changing the face of people who live in their campers full time. I was also interviewed for a podcast episode of Girl Camper. In April, I was approached by Italia Gandolfo of Gandolfo, Hilen, and Fountain Literary Management Company and offered a contract to write a book. I was selected for the Positive Aging Conference and spoke in August. I was approached by a former screenwriter for Saturday Night Live and Dawson’s Creek to give an interview for her new podcast which will begin broadcasting in January. I was interviewed again for the Girl Camper podcast. In addition, I spoke to several groups over the course of the year as well as made some wonderful connections for future speaking engagements. I am being interviewed for a radio show in a couple of weeks. I am building an independent website (with the expert guidance of my brilliant son-in-law.)

So, for all intents and purposes, I would have to say unequivocally…this has been my year to thrive. While it certainly has been busy, I haven’t “busied” my way out of dealing with my grief. As time and hard work has eased the weight of my grief, I have begun to move past a lot of the most difficult parts and deal with the waves with a strength only swimming at the deep end could have given me. I have ventured out socially and reaped the rewards of new friendships. My loss no longer defines my life. It is a deep scar that I carry with me always yet it doesn’t occupy my every thought. It is an unfortunate part of my story yet it isn’t the WHOLE story.

As we bid adieu to the old and ring in the new, please accept my sincere thanks for being a part of my life this year. Your presence here on The Ranch has helped me more than you could ever know. And let me be the first to wish you a very Happy New Year! Here’s to a new year filled with good things. If we cannot find them…may we create them and color our lives with “rich and royal hues”! ❤️

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:18‬ ‭NIV

MY MIRACLE

Fri, 30 Dec 2016 03:00:14 -0600

I’ve suffered from Palmar Plantar Psoriasis for the last three years. Only 1-3% of psoriasis suffered have this particular variety. I’ve literally tried everything. I’ve had expensive allergy testing. I’ve used countless tubes of steroid creams. Then, three weeks ago, a friend prayed over my hands. While I was in Colorado, I was driving by a marijuana dispensary and felt compelled to go in when I “heard” the message “They can help you.” I showed them my ands and they handed me a jar of ointment saying, this will fix it." I thought that was that till I drove by an apothecary and got the same nudge…“Go in…they can help you.” Ok, I’m a listener. And I’m practicing obeying. I found a parking space and went in. “I have this on my hands and feet.” I told them. “You need this.” they said…and handed me a proprietary blend of essential oils and various emollients. I started for home and for the third time, I felt that now familiar nudge and stopped at the hot springs pool. I soaked for three hours then applied my purchases and put on a pair of clean, dry socks and went home. While I was only able to visit the hot springs one more time during my visit, I continued to use the cannabis ointment twice a day, the eczema cream as often as possible, and dropped the steroid cream to about twice a week. As you can see by the picture, after less than two weeks on the regimen, my skin is quite noticeably improved.

I was never a proponent of legalizing marijuana until I had this personal experience. God still answers prayers, as you can see the healing in this picture. He doesn’t necessarily reach down and touch a finger to your injury…but He brings insight to a doctor, and He nudges you to a place that has what you need. I have no doubt my friend’s prayers over my hands have worked. This is the first time in years that I can open doors, pick things up, and walk without pain. I am even getting the feeling back in my fingers. I’m not a medical professional and I’m only relating my own personal experience. We may not see God raising people from the dead these days, that does not mean God isn’t still in the miracle business. I just wanted to share with you my holiday miracle! ❤️

““Unless you people see signs and wonders,” Jesus told him, “you will never believe.”” ‭‭John‬ ‭4:48‬ ‭NIV‬‬

FLY THE FRIENDLY SKIES

Thu, 29 Dec 2016 03:00:51 -0600

When I was a very little girl, my mother flew to Chicago to do two things…visit her sister, and try to win a washer/dryer on “Queen for a Day”. The TV show was less impressive to me than the fact my mother was swallowed by this big, silver contraption that swept her away from me into the blue skies of summer. I had my first experience being airborne when I was about nine years old and my neighbor took me up in his Piper Cub. I loved the sensation…and the glamour…of flying.

Long gone are the days of airlines actually catering to their passengers in an opulent…and roomy…way. Seats are so tight, a woman of my size is hard pressed to cross her legs. I pity a person who is taller and/or wider than the average traveler. My flight experiences usually include at least a two hour nap these days. I always take Dramamine…usually the non-drowsy formula. I think I took the regular version yesterday as it was all I could do to stay awake during my layover in Chicago.

I tried something different this time. My flight left Denver at 5:05 which meant, with the extra holiday traffic and dropping off the rental car…I was up at 2:00am! I slept the entire flight to Chicago, had a three hour layover at Midway, another hour flight, plus a five hour drive home to the farm. Holy cats! Ok, I saved a boatload of money doing that, but it makes for a really long day. I’ll put up with a lot for a $198 round trip Dayton to Denver.

I love to fly…even though it isn’t what it once was. I love the sights and sounds and smells of an airport. I long to travel to far distant lands, gliding high above the clouds, and deplaning where I don’t understand the language. I’ll never forget standing in Heathrow Airport…a 19-year-old military bride joining my husband at his Air Force duty station. I stood at customs looking out at the sea of faces on the other side of the glass. I turned to the customs agent and asked how on earth I was going to find my husband with all these bodies here. There was worry in my voice. She laughed and said in her lilting brogue, “Don’t worry, dearie! He’ll find YOU!” And that, he did.

I had a four hour drive from Dayton to the farm after traveling all day. Thank you for your prayers for travel mercies. I am home. ❤️

“For it is written: “ ‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’ ”” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭4:10-11‬ NIV

LITTLE: A GRANDCHILD'S HEART

Wed, 21 Dec 2016 03:00:38 -0600

“Little” is nine-years-old but her soul is ancient. This is my deep, insightful thinker. My wise comforter. She was five when Mr. Virgo died and it was her sensitive, thought provoking wisdom that touched my heart more than all the comforting remarks put together. She’s spiritual and we talk about God and Jesus and heaven. We really “get” each other.

When I visit my family in Colorado, I make a special point of spending one full day with each of my grandchildren…one on one. I’m trying to instill in them the preference of experiences over stuff. When I asked “Little” what she wanted for Hanukkah and Christmas (we celebrate both in our family), she said she wanted to do something crafty. “Little” is a maker…just like me. I wasn’t at all sure what we would end up doing but I knew we had to start at the mall. After wandering around for a while…and enjoying a plate of traditional lemon crepes…we wandered into Williams-Sonoma, one of my all-time favorite stores. An idea began to grow. I found a set of American Girl cookbooks and an apron/oven-mitt set that she fell in love with. We added matching measuring cups, spoons, and a spatula and she came away with a respectable beginning of a cooking arsenal.

“Little” has ADHD and she brought it up in our quite lengthy conversation as we browsed. She described herself as “unique”. I love that. I told her I was unique as well and while I had never had a formal diagnosis, I’m sure I have ADHD. She looked up in awe.

“Really?!?!” she asked.

“Yes. When I was little they didn’t have the medicines to help like they have now. But I learned to compensate…just like you’re doing.” I don’t want her to ever feel “less than”. I don’t think I need to worry. She’s pretty amazing.

We sat out in the mall for a bit and browsed a cookbook and settled on Chicken Noodle Soup. After picking up the ingredients on the way home, “Little” and I made a huge pot of soup and cheese quesadillas. It was a big hit and “Little” had her moment to shine outside of the shadow of her older sister. It was beautiful.

These beautiful beings teach me more about life in three weeks than I get in the whole six months between visits and I love them beyond belief. ❤️

““See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

SYNCHRONICITY

Mon, 12 Dec 2016 03:00:28 -0600

Yesterday was one of those days when things happened that were beyond mere coincidence. There were God moments going on that just couldn’t be denied. First, one of our fellow Ranchers contacted me when she heard I was driving through her town in the mountains. Lin and I have a connection that goes back a lot further than the three years she’s been reading my blog. I knew she was from my home town, but I didn’t know she graduated from my high school the year before me! It was “old home week” as we visited for three hours in the local Starbucks. What a treat that was…thank you Lin for an afternoon of conversation!

I was coming through Glenwood Springs a couple hours later when I felt compelled to stop at the Iron Mountain Hot Springs. I ran into a former co-worker as I entered the lobby. Small town…small world. After changing, I made a mad dash through the cold night air and hopped in the first pool I came to. A young couple was sitting there. We struck up a fascinating conversation and found so many commonalities it was downright eerie. We exchanged info afterwards. When you meet someone that clicks deep, you stay to see how it plays out. Thank you Hailey and Joe for hanging out with me and sharing a couple of hours under the stars.

My conversations today reminded me why it’s important to listen when the Holy Spirit talks to you. It was a gentle whisper today but the impact was unmistakably His. And I feel I gained three new friends in the process. I don’t believe anything is random. Things don’t happen by chance for me. People meet for the specific purpose of exchanging information. Connections are much deeper when you listen with your heart. ❤️

“In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will,” ‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭1:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

BFF's

Thu, 08 Dec 2016 03:00:21 -0600

We weren’t much more than children when we met. Both new brides of young airmen stationed overseas, we were thrilled to find our hometowns were in adjacent states. We became fast friends. You do that when you’re a military wife. Your friends become family. Cindy looked extremely young for her age. Seriously, she looked twelve when she and her new husband moved into the flat below ours. She was eighteen. I was all of twenty. We hung out together while our husbands worked. We did crafts. We shopped. I think we tried our hand at knitting. We shared our families when they came to visit. Her “Nana” became my “Nana”…my mom, her mom. We shopped a lot. We didn’t buy much, but we shopped. It wasn’t long after Cindy arrived that I became pregnant with my first child. One afternoon, Cindy and I were at the hardware store buying batteries for a flashlight when the jolly clerk asked her, “Are you having fun shopping with your mummy?” I whipped around and asked, “Excuse me…what did you say?” He repeated that he was asking “my daughter” if she was having fun shopping with her mum. I nearly died! I mean, really…you feel so awful about yourself when you’re big and fat and hot and sweaty…then someone mistakes your best friend as your daughter. And you aren’t two years apart! It was a turning point in my life. My youthful innocence was left on that hardware store floor.

Cindy and I have gone great lengths of time without seeing each other. Yet, each visit picks up where we left off in the conversation as if one had just left the room for a moment. We have a shared experience that bonded us forever. We were so far from home, we needed each other. She threw a surprise baby shower for me. There were a few people but far more gifts than attendees. She proudly handed me the first gift and asked me to read the tag. It was from my mom who was stateside. I burst into tears. Not that I just missed my mom or was just hormonal. No…this friend had gotten my mom’s address from my husband, wrote and introduced herself, then told my mom about the shower and could she let all my friends and family know. When the boxes arrived, she carefully hid the gifts which was no small feat in our tiny British flats. She kept the secret knowing how much it would mean to me to have gifts from the family I was missing terribly. I look back now and realize my mom never got to see me pregnant with either of my babies. I wish she could have.

Cindy has always been there for me…not always in person, but she’s always been a phone call away. She cried with me when I shared the news of Mr. Virgo’s death. I fly in and out of Dayton so that I can get the chance to visit with her the night before I travel. It always makes a joyful experience even more wonderful. Thank you for always being there, my friend. You are one of life’s true gems! ❤️

“Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Give Thanks

Thu, 24 Nov 2016 02:30:52 -0600

“Give Thanks”

I have more to be grateful for than I could possibly recount here, but I’ll list a few.

LOVE - I am grateful for the deep love I have in my life. Those closest to me are my rocks and I can never adequately thank them for all they do for me. To give love is divine. To be given love in return is a precious gift I will never take for granted.

SHELTER - While I have my camper TOW-Wanda that I’ve lived in most of the last two years, I am especially grateful to be given the opportunity to live on and take care of the family farm. The home of my heart…my uncle understands this is my healing place. A place where I am closer to those who have gone on before me. Another generous gift I’ll not take for granted.

WORDS - I have the joy of writing an essay every single day. Even though now it is more like an obsession, really. I cannot imagine not writing…even for a day. It’s as automatic as breathing and brushing my teeth. And, as a result of my writing, I have all you good people to interact with on a daily basis and I love you all. Your support far outweighs any efforts I put into this and I am deeply grateful for this blog.

MR. VIRGO - Three weeks before he died, we actually had a discussion about death and what we would want when the time comes. I remember telling him that if he died the next day, it would be a tragedy…but if I would have had him for one day, my life was surely richer for it. I am grateful we told each other often how much we loved each other. There are no regrets…only warm memories of having had a wonderful man in my life.

MUSIC - My world started getting color and sound back in it about two years after losing Mr. Virgo. I am grateful for the opportunities to go listen to live music with my friends. I am grateful for a Bluetooth speaker so I can fill my house with music.

And, last but certainly not least…

GOD and my CHURCH - I wouldn’t even HAVE a life if it wasn’t for the Grace of God. And my life is enriched by Pastor Justin and my Church family at The Warehouse Church. They bless me every day and help guide me through my spiritual journey.

I am thankful for so many things. My life is beautiful and sweet and peaceful. I am spending this holiday with my West Virginia family…those wonderful people who hold such special places in my heart. May you all celebrate Thanksgiving with loving kindness and gratitude. ❤️

“I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭9:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Nest

Mon, 21 Nov 2016 02:30:02 -0600

“A bird’s nest from the farm.”

One late fall day, I was walking down the long drive to get the mail and paper when I noticed an abandoned nest in the ditch. I’m not familiar enough to know what kind of bird made it although it is lined with mud. I know swallows do that. I picked up the little nest and sat it on the end of the old wooden ironing board I use as a perch for the cats and there it sat. That is, until I “decorated” for the holidays. I thought it looked better sitting beside the old hunting boots I found in a barrel downstairs.

One of the joys of living out on the farm is the vast number and variety of birds here. I could hardly wait to put out bird feeders. I have them situated so I can see them from the rocking chair in the front window. They remind me of a verse in the Bible that tells us not to worry about getting the things we need because if God provides for the sparrow, he will certainly provide for us. Everything a bird needs is found in nature. Our added efforts to draw them in with extra food only baits them for our viewing pleasure. But, even though God gives the worm, he doesn’t provide room service. The birds still have to get out every day and forage for sustenance. They have to work for their blessings…they just don’t worry about it. Good advice.

God has buckets of blessings with our name on them. They are the blessings HE wants for us…not our selfish requests. HE wants to prosper us, but on HIS terms…not ours. I can’t just sit here in the rocking chair and wait for UPS to hand deliver my blessings. I have to suit up and show up. I have to prepare myself through prayer and meditation. I have to treat my body like the temple it is with proper food and activity. I have to maintain my health. For me, personally…I have to be in the Word every day. I have to practice all three parts of Matthew 7:7…ask, seek, and knock. The action words. When I “ask”, I ask for the blessings HE wants to give me. When I “seek”, I ask how I can best serve HIM, not the other way around. And when I “knock”, I beg God to open the door to His heart and shower me with the abundance HE has in mind. That is how I “work for my supper”. He feeds my spirit AND my life.

So, just as the bird must work for the blessing of food, so do I. I am grateful for the beauty…and the bounty…in my life. ❤️

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

First Snow

Sun, 20 Nov 2016 02:30:10 -0600

“Snowflake”

This is a big turning point in the year…the first snowflakes. They excite us. The holidays are coming. The turkey is probably thawing in your fridge. You are making your menu. You’ve shopped for the food. You’ve pulled out the recipes. You’ve invited family and friends. The games are scheduled. The marching bands will be descending on New York City any day. The workers are preparing the floats and the giant balloons. Deer season is starting. And here they are…the first flakes of snow.

I was standing in the Cook’s Store in Marietta after lunch yesterday when I overheard a couple talking about a bundt pan. The man admitted he used his as a water bowl for his dog. I tried not to show them I had overheard, but I was shaking as I laughed silently. I couldn’t help it. The look of horror on the face of the woman with him was classic! They noticed me and suddenly we were all having a grand, knee-slapping laugh. It was fun. It released a lot of stress to interact with total strangers with abandon. No agenda. We chatted a while then went on our way.

I moved to the la Cruset display in the front window and saw a beautiful red tea pot. I look out the window and caught the first snowflakes of the season. I could hear the tea kettle whistle in my imagination so I brought that little red teapot to the little red farmhouse. We will have many lovely moments together.

I lay in bed in the pale flickering candlelight and heard the icy snow hit the dry leaves with the same sound of sizzling bacon and wondered if it will amount to much. How will it affect my drive to church tomorrow? The first flakes of snow. The harbinger of change.

Winter.

May she come in peace. ❤️

“He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’ So that everyone he has made may know his work, he stops all people from their labor.” Job‬ ‭37:6-7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Taking a Moment

Sat, 19 Nov 2016 02:30:45 -0600

“Kicking back on the porch at the farm.”

I’m not slowing down till spring! I looked at my calendar yesterday and realized I have no down time till mid-January but that’s when I sit down with my web developer and work on my new website. That’ll take at least two weeks then I’m thinking of heading south for a little fun in the sun and avoid the incessant shades of a grey winter in the Mid Ohio Valley. Today is coffee with the girls and lunch out, tomorrow is church and live music with a gal pal. Next week is travel to visit family for Thanksgiving. The next week I travel to Colorado till the end of the month. So, today I’m chilling out on the front porch. “Chilling” is a misnomer as it is over 60° and the sun is shining. I’m sitting with my feet up and doing the crossword. I’ve set up the bird feeders so I can see them from my front window and I am definitely enjoying their chatter as they jockey for position. They flit back and forth from the feeders to the safety of the nearby snowball bush. Yellow finches, house wrens, chickadees, and tufted titmouse. The occasional cardinal or blue jay for color. The young farm cat sits on the creek bank scowling in frustration at the missed opportunities to grab a snack. I’ve placed the feeders high enough he can’t get to my birds. Asian Lady Beetles drop in as they are attracted to the warmth of the wood on the front of the house as the sun sets. They are especially draw to places of contrast…light next to dark…like you find around windows and doors. I believe the flea spray kills them. They light on the floor of the porch and are dead in short order. It feels good to just stop and sit for a little bit and soak up the sun and the sounds of nature. Before you know it, the world will be blanketed in white and we will wish for a day like this. ❤️

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭NIV

Lessons

Mon, 02 May 2016 01:30:49 -0600

I've been working with a trainer the last two months. We exercise together four or five times a week. Anyone who exercises knows it's a whole lot easier when you're with someone. There's not only the accountability factor, but the motivation and encouraging comments that come with having an exercise partner is priceless.

It's important when you exercise to stay in breath so you are aerobic...your muscles getting the oxygen they need. One way of assuring that is to carry on a conversation. If you can't talk more than a few words with all the huffing and puffing, you should really slow down the pace a little. Imagine my delight when I can exercise AND carry on a conversation. It helped make the activity much more pleasant.

And now my trainer, who has become my good friend, is moving on to his next adventure. I am so happy for him, but selfishly I will miss his encouraging words and fun conversation. He has taught me many things. I'm not invisible. Everything we do in life should come from a place of love...for others, for ourselves, for the planet, and for God. Our bodies are machines that need the proper fuel in order to function properly. And, I'm probably not drinking enough water.

Now comes the hard part. Now I have to stay motivated to get out there and keep exercising at the same level of intensity. I can do this but it will be an adjustment. I hate goodbyes so I'll just say "See ya later, my friend. Thanks for believing I could make the changes I needed to get healthy."

❤️

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”
Numbers 6:24-26 NIV

Sweet ColoraDOUGH!

Wed, 15 Jul 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Lisa sparkles. She is my mentor in the happy wanderer department. Young enough to be my daughter, she is actually one of my Sisters…Sisters on the Fly, that is. When I first met her, she was who I knew I wanted to be when I grew up. She can make the BEST Cream of Mushroom Soup in a Dutch oven. She can dance till the sun comes up. She can walk into a roomful of strangers and have them eating out of her hand in five minutes. She has a smile that melts your heart and you want to be her best friend forever. She never treated me any different just because I was new at camping, new at being a Sister, new at being alone. She is brighter than the sun!

Lisa has a passion for many things in life, but the independent coffee shop owner is who she chooses to champion. In these days of posh, shiny, impersonal coffee shops that spring up overnight on every street corner, Lisa holds the "little guys" close to her heart and wants you to know where you can find them so you too can support them…keeping their doors open in a tough economy. She wants you to know their stories. What made them decide to open a coffee shop? Was there someone in their lives that encouraged them to go for that dream? Where do they get their coffee? Do they offer anything other than the "Elixir of the Gods"? What do they want their customers to come away with when they leave their establishment? How do they give back to the world? There are as many stories out there as there are coffee shops, and I'm one of her minions heading out there to sacrifice myself to the caffeine and sugar rush just to find out the skinny and report it on her blog. I'll be posting a coffeehouse review once a month and I'll leave you a link here so you can read it and find these treasured places.

The Local Coffee House Finder is online and you can search on your phone to find these these locally owned gems as you travel the highways and byways of America. Heck, there might be some in your own backyard you weren't aware of. So get out there and drink up. And if you don't drink coffee….well, even though I don't understand you, I'll love you anyway and offer you a nice cup of tea!

❤

Read all about Sweet ColoraDOUGH here...a locally owned coffee and donut shop in Glenwood Springs, Colorado.

"A kindhearted woman gains honor, but ruthless men gain only wealth."
Proverbs 11:16

Peace. Love. Rock & Roll!

Mon, 01 Jun 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Ok…that was just about the most fun weekend I've ever had. I know, I say that a lot but this was quite the experience. I took this panorama of the campground to give you some idea how huge this place was. Yesterday's music was awesome! Merle Haggard was the headliner and wrapped up the weekend. He did a great job. But, for me, the highlight was Brandi Carlile! OMGosh, she put on an absolutely amazing performance. And I came away with a new group that I'm looking forward to following…Elephant Revival. They are a Colorado based band and the lead vocalist is fabulous. Unfortunately, the two days they perform in Colorado this year are days I'm already booked.

I feel so energized by this experience. There was such a good energy here. Everyone got along. Friendships were formed. I made new friends. I learned new music. It was peaceful. It was full of love and cooperation. I didn't see a single negative thing. The place was kept clean. A full 95% of the trash generated is being recycled! 95%! That is absolutely amazing!

Everywhere I go I meet the most interesting and beautiful people. Tonga was a joy and she's connecting me with this really cool earth mother in Colorado. The guy in the coffee shop has read Marshmallow Ranch! I let the girls camping next to us use my power strip to charge their phones. They left us a gift of bread from the Farmer's Market.

I'm so happy I don't watch TV or the news because my world is a beautiful place!

❤

"“Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can you make it salty again? Have salt among yourselves, and be at peace with each other.”
Mark 9:50

And...it Begins!

Fri, 29 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

TOW-Wanda & Free-Da, the Ford...ready to hit the road!
Camping at Nelsonville Music Festival
Live Music
Live Music at Night!

What a treasure it is to gather with a large variety of humans seeking the same goal. Four days of peace, music, and fun in the sun! The vibe is good...mellow. Reminiscent of the early outdoor concerts of the '60s. Aging hippies getting their groove on. Middle aged couples trying to recover a part of the dream. Days when they were filled with love and promise. Days before the pressures of life took away their ability to play. So here, they don their tie dye and walk barefoot, holding hands with hopeful love. And with the right portion of sun, sound, and sensual dancing, sparks are igniting the embers of a long, too cold winter. And it's summer!!! Young people smelling like patchouli and herbal refreshments, dreads, flowing gauzy skirts dancing with that sheer freedom youth allows. Little ones running around blowing bubbles and chasing balloons.

A music festival thrusts you into a melting pot of humanity. It is an excellent opportunity to throw off that coat of conformity and allow you to fly...to allow you to be YOU!

It just doesn't get much better than that. Celebrate life!

❤

"David and all Israel were celebrating with all their might before the Lord, with castanets, harps, lyres, timbrels, sistrums and cymbals."
2 Samuel 6:5

Live the Life

Thu, 28 May 2015 01:30:00 -0600

Well, the sun has set on this chapter of my Grand Adventure. For those of you who are relatively new, here's a recap. Husband died, sold the house, bought a trailer, gave everything away, moved to West Virginia to take care of Aunt, didn't work out, house sat for six weeks, lived in my camper on the banks of the Ohio River during the worst winter WV has seen in many years (without running water!), listened to tons of live music, renewed friendships and made lots of new ones, bought a bike and a kayak, downsized even more, and now I'm heading for the Nelsonville Music Festival then back to Colorado for the summer. Whew…I'm exhausted just thinking about it!

This was an expensive lesson I learned here. I paid to move things here. If I would have known the time with my aunt was going to be so short, I would have done things differently. I think the biggest take away is to never make assumptions. Always communicate your needs and desires clearly and listen to the spoken and unspoken words of others. Don't put all your eggs in one basket…have a contingency plan. Forgive. Nurture relationships. Appreciate your surroundings. Pray…a lot! And remember Who guides you through this wilderness.

I ran errands all day yesterday, but the most satisfying thing happened at dusk. I fit the last thing into the back of the pickup truck like the last piece of a puzzle. There's no more room…but I own nothing else so it really doesn't matter. To stand back and look at my handiwork was gratifying. To stand back and marvel that every single thing I own is resting on eight wheels was pretty humbling. Well, minus the items stored in my friend's basement but I'll be going through those in the fall and getting rid of more.

I did it! I simplified my life. Now, the only thing left is to LIVE it. Wanna come along???

❤

"My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content."
Psalm 131:1-2

Sweet Memories

Sun, 22 Feb 2015 02:30:00 -0600

Mr. Virgo was born and raised in Philadelphia and spent a large portion of his life in Florida. However, the home of his heart was Colorado. He knew I wanted to come back to West Virginia and he would have done anything for me. So, a few years ago, he came here to this very hotel I'm staying in and interviewed for the Food and Beverage Director position. That's one of the reasons I chose this place to stay for my brief respite from the cold and snow. He had been here. So, a part of his energy remains and I wanted to find it.

I went down for breakfast and my beloved Starbucks latte. I sat in the big comfy leather chair and visually set a place for Mr. Virgo at the table beside me. I often do that when I'm going out to eat. He "makes" me look around and take notice of the restaurant as he used to do. Cleanliness, service, decor, food…all things he taught me about the restaurant business. All things I want to smack him for because it has forever tainted my experience of dining out. :-)

I sat back and enjoyed my new copy of Home magazine, pausing on occasion to look out at the snow piling up outside. There was soft jazzy "elevator" music in the background. Then I felt him. It happens sometimes. I knew he had come in and sat in the chair I had set for him. I smiled knowingly and sent him a mental hello. I knew he was about to send me a message, and I instinctively knew it was going to be through the music playing overhead. He has done that many times. Sure enough, the music switched from canned Muzak to Christina Perri singing "A Thousand Years". My heightened awareness led me to listen to every word and hear them as I hadn't before…as a message from a very special man.

"A Thousand Years"

"Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave?
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?
But watching you stand alone,
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow.
One step closer

[Chorus:]
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What's standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this
One step closer

[Chorus:]
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
One step closer
One step closer

[Chorus:]
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more"

My heart warmed, I smiled, and…of course…I got a little lump in my throat as I enjoyed our moment together because I knew it wouldn't last long enough. It never does. The song ended, and just like that, the moment was gone. The music switched back to jazzy Muzak and Mr. Virgo slipped off into the nether regions of the hotel, certainly to follow some unsuspecting server around to make sure she's doing things right.

❤

"No widow may be put on the list of widows unless she is over sixty, has been faithful to her husband, and is well known for her good deeds, such as bringing up children, showing hospitality, washing the feet of the Lord’s people, helping those in trouble and devoting herself to all kinds of good deeds."
1 Timothy 5:9-10 NIV

Happy Valentine's Day!

Sat, 14 Feb 2015 02:30:00 -0600

My great grandfather used to say, "It'll stop hurting when the pain goes away." I never quite got the deeper meaning of those words till yesterday. I woke up feeling more peaceful than I have since Mr. Virgo died. It was remarkable. I couldn't put my finger on anything specific…I just felt lighthearted, like I could take on the world. The sun broke the horizon and made the frost on the windows glow a lovely golden yellow. It was 4 degrees outside but inside, my world was warm and beautiful and calm. I just laid there and enjoyed that feeling and was ever so grateful.

I'm heading for the two year mark now. Some of you have been following along from the beginning. If you are new, I lost my beloved Mr. Virgo in March 2013. We were buying a camper and he had a heart attack and died. I went ahead and bought one and started this journey. We've had lots of ups and downs, you and me. We'll have more. But today is a day to share the love and tell those who are important to you that you care.

You all have been important to me…and, I care about you. I've gotten to know some of you personally. I recognize your names and look forward to hearing from you. We offer support and prayers for each other when they're needed. We encourage each other when the going gets tough and we applaud each other when we accomplish our goals. I am so proud of this page and of all you brave souls. I love y'all…more than biscuits and gravy! I hope you have a good day.

❤

"And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity."
Colossians 3:14 NIV

A Message From God

Mon, 19 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

I was sitting in church yesterday morning, coffee in hand, reading the bulletin. I came across an item asking for people to give a 3-5 minute testimony during the halftimes of an all day basketball tournament at the local Christian school. Now, lately I have been feeling a call to speak, as evidenced by our recent talk about Victorian salons. But there's no way I could EVER talk for just 3-5 minutes about ANYTHING! No, this feeling was coming on strong in just the first few minutes of church and it had a deeper dynamic to it I couldn't quite put my finger on. The sermon was wonderful. The subject was being grateful for the Blessings we are given. Being BOLDLY grateful…out loud. To give credit where credit is due. To thank God openly.

I have always been mindful in my writing that, even though I consider it to be faith based, I don't want to come across as "preachy" since that was a major turn-off for me growing up. If I were to influence someone, I would prefer it be through example. More to the point, I just didn't want to offend anyone who does not share my beliefs or make them feel I am in any way judgmental if you don't… because I certainly am not. But that takes me back to the ten lepers…only one of whom came back to properly thank God for curing his leprosy. It was through being grateful, and expressing it, that he was healed.

Many of you have told me, if I attached a scripture to my writings, it would be your daily devotional. The message I kept getting in church yesterday was "Tell them. Tell them who gives you all your Blessings. Give them a verse…just a verse. You don't have to "preach"…just give your readers a verse that you read that offered you comfort or insight. Just tell them!" This voice was getting pretty insistent, ok? And right then, my phone vibrated. It was sitting face up in my purse and I instinctively glanced down. It was a message from a friend and I knew he was in church at the time. What on earth could he be sending me during church? It was SO unlike him.

"You cannot run from God's love."

Whoa! Six words. Right there on the iPhone screen. A text from God…via a friend in Florida. Now, if I wear my underwear outside my clothes in Walmart and walk around talking to myself and tell you God speaks to me through my television set…THAT'S crazy. But when you're sitting in church contemplating whether you should talk about God more in your blog, and your friend suddenly feels compelled to pick up his phone and text you something that just "popped in his head"…THAT'S a message one cannot ignore. So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to start adding a scripture at the bottom of each post. Something that supports or illustrates the subject. I'm not going to be quite so afraid to share with you when God moves me to. I'm not going to tap dance and pretend to be anything I am not. I'm NOT going to preach at you. I'll understand if it's not your cup of tea and you want to bail on me…no hard feelings. I love all of you…no matter what. It's just something I feel I need to do…for me…for God. Because, He has Blessed me way above and beyond anything I deserve. Truly. It is my time to speak.

❤

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
Ecclesiastes 3:7

Time of Reflection

Mon, 12 Jan 2015 02:30:00 -0600

I love Sunday. I get to go to Church. I didn't always go. As a matter of fact, I was a good Jewish wife and mother for 27 years. I was frightened out of believing when I was a very young child. I followed the "Church of Ginny" for a number of years until I had a roommate who was Jewish. I started following the holidays and traditions because I loved the sense of family it gave me. I loved God. But I had a fear of Jesus after that scary preacher yelled at me and told me I was going to go to hell. I was six. So, with Judaism, I could have a relationship with God and leave it at that.

I met and married a nice Jewish man. We had a nice Jewish house and celebrated all the Jewish holidays. But there was something missing. I had an emptiness inside that I couldn't fill with anything…no matter how hard I tried. Finally, five years after my divorce from this still nice Jewish man…I found Jesus. And my world literally was recreated. I was recreated. I changed instantly. I found my happy place.

I've been Church hunting since I came to West Virginia. I have attended the church of my youth…my grandparent's little country church. I visited a Baptist church with a praise team which was decidedly more contemporary than anything else around here but still pretty tame compared to the throw-your-hands-up-in-the-air kind of worship I have become accustomed to in the churches I attend in Colorado. I visited a lovely Methodist church with friends and saw some classmates there. And the past two Sundays, I attended services at a beautiful Methodist church in the historic district. My mom's cousin is the associate Pastor there and she invited me to come hear her sermon.

Yesterday was the Sunday celebrating the Baptism of Christ. Having grown up in a little country church and after attending contemporary churches, I felt a bit like a fish out of water. There are more rituals in the Methodist church than I remember. It was a lovely service, however. I sat and smiled as I watched and listened to my cousin speak about the "Something More" we are always seeking. I smiled because I remember her as a very young mother attending the little white church on the hill and now here she was in black robes, standing in the pulpit, delivering a sermon in a big stone church with stained glass windows. We both had humble beginnings. We both are widows. We share genes. We share a love for God.

Toward the end of the service, we were invited to come forward to the baptismal font to have the sign of the cross placed on our foreheads with water from the Jordan River, the river in which Jesus was baptized by his cousin John. My cousin, Sue, did the honors. It was a lovely experience for me. I knelt before the pulpit for a bit…without thought of what I would say to God. Instead of many words, I merely felt the warmth of the moment…smiled…and whispered "Thank You." Sometimes just that is the greatest of prayers.

❤

Painting is entitled "Baptism of the Lord" by Guido Reni

Born to Sparkle!

Tue, 30 Dec 2014 02:30:00 -0600

Do you ever look at your little girl pictures and wonder where your sparkle went? It takes a lot to dull my shine, but lately…I just haven't been feeling it. Then I came across this picture in my archives. Just look at this little girl! She's got her nekkid baby doll, a pretty dress with shiny party shoes, and she's at her grandma's house. What else IS there to life? She hasn't been molested or abused. She hasn't seen her parents fight. She hasn't dated or married or divorced. She hasn't had babies. She hasn't worried about how to pay the bills. She hasn't sat on the edge of the bed at 2am waiting to see the headlights signaling her daughter's safe return home. She hasn't comforted her bullied child. She hasn't held her grandchildren. She hasn't lost her mom. She hasn't met the love of her life. She hasn't lost him. She hasn't known grief.

She hasn't known grief. But she will. She'll have trouble breathing. She'll step on that rake in the grass all too often. She'll feel the grief rise and fall in her chest like the tide. She'll reel with the pain and she'll learn how to take it. She'll vow never to hurt again, but she will. She'll vow never to love again, but she will. She'll think she can never sparkle again…but she will.

She will.

Because…look at this little girl.

She was BORN…TO…SPARKLE!

❤

A Special Request

Fri, 07 Nov 2014 02:30:24 -0600

“We Rise by Lifting Others!”

Twenty-two months ago, I started this blog and when the unthinkable happened, it became a grief journal. Unlike a journal kept by the bedside, mine has gone out to tens of thousands of people with the hope that it touches those suffering losses of their own. That it may be of some source of comfort to let others know they aren’t alone on their path through the barren landscape of grief. I have met some of you in person. I have conversed with some of you in a private chat. And even though I don’t KNOW you all, I feel as though I am surrounded by loving friends. You have sent me countless words of encouragement. You have no idea how much your support and prayers have helped me get through a terribly scary part of life and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I knew with the numbers rising in our little “family” here on Marshmallow Ranch, it was only a matter of time when one of our own would need us to support her. That time came last evening when Gloria sent me a private message. She gave me permission to use her first name. She has been doctoring a sore back for awhile and when it did not improve, they did an MRI and found a mass. Unfortunately, she has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. They will jump right on this and get treatment started right away. She is trying to be brave for her six children. She lost her husband and they are so afraid of losing her, too.

If I may ask this of you, please lift Gloria and her family up in prayer that she can beat this cancer. If you aren’t a prayerful person, please send loving light and good energy. We are all so small and scared when something like this happens. Let’s show Gloria our love and support! Thank you.

Ginny <3

The Well-Seasoned Skillet

Thu, 30 Oct 2014 01:30:29 -0600

“A well-seasoned skillet is a joy to behold!”

When I was growing up, my grandma filled her skillets with soapy water and set them to simmer on the stove while we did the dishes so that’s how I thought you were supposed to wash them. I gave up on cast iron cooking a long time ago because my pans were always rusty and pitted. Then Mr. Virgo, the trained chef, came along and taught me how to turn an old rusty iron skillet into a thing of beauty. There are two rules….season the pan correctly and NEVER let it anywhere near water!

This skillet is one I bought at a second hand or antique store…I can’t remember where or when. Mr. Virgo loved fried chicken and this was nice and deep…perfect for frying. It was a gosh-awful mess when I brought it home. I followed his directions. First, I had to get the rust out. Using fine steel wool, I rubbed the pan till it was clean, bare metal. (If it’s more rust than this can handle, you might have to take it to a machine shop and have it sandblasted.) Now, this is the only time it’s ok to get this thing wet. Wash the skillet thoroughly with warm water and mild dish soap and scrub it really well with a bristle brush or a plastic scrubby. Dry the skillet immediately and swipe it all over with a thin coating of vegetable oil. Don’t use too much or your coating will be sticky. Pop your skillet upside down on the top rack of your oven. (You can put a cookie sheet or foil on the rack below in case you get any oil drips.) Heat the skillet for an hour at 350 degrees. At the end of the hour, turn off your oven, leave it closed, and take your skillet out in the morning when it’s cool.

This skillet has a perfect season on it. I never, ever wash it. I baked corn bread in it yesterday to go with the soup beans and smoked ham hocks. While I was mixing up my batter, I had the skillet in a 400 degree oven with a couple tablespoons of bacon grease. By the time the batter was made, and rested for a few minutes to raise a bit, the skillet was hot. I poured the batter in. It should sizzle slightly but not put up a huge fuss. Bake as per directions watching closely because dark pans cook a bit faster. You do need to run a spatula under your cornbread before you tip it out on a plate or cake rack because the center will want to stick. Don’t cut your cornbread while it’s in the skillet unless you use Teflon utensils. You don’t want to scratch that pretty surface. Before you take your crispy crusted, golden cornbread to the table, use a nonstick spatula and scrape anything adhering to the surface. Remember, NO WATER. Once supper is over, use a paper towel to scrub the inside of your skillet. If it doesn’t want to come clean, use oil on the paper towel. If you’ve seasoned it right, it should come clean with just a wipe down. Store your skillets with paper towels or newspaper between them if you have to stack them. Store them in a clean, DRY cupboard. And, don’t worry…if rust shows up, you can always season it again.

Iron cookware is often handed down through the generations. I have my mom’s, one of my grandma’s, and some of my own I have collected along the way. This one is by far my favorite. Oh, a word of caution…some people say it’s ok to cook acidic foods like spaghetti sauce in a very well seasoned skillet, but my rule of thumb is to never let tomatoes anywhere near my cast iron. The acid can strip the seasoning and give the food a funky, metallic taste.

So, there you have the tutorial on the well-seasoned skillet. Treat your cast iron well and it will serve for generations to come. Old cast iron is collectible, but only if it has been well cared for. Now, I’ll tell you a story. (You knew THAT was coming, didn’t you?)

My mom came home to the farm for the weekend when she was a young, single, working woman. My Uncle Sonny had been out “frog giggin’” the night before and was about to fry himself up a big pan of frog legs. Mom had never seen the process, and while she was revolted by the idea of devouring amphibian appendages, her curiosity got the better of her. She came into the kitchen just as my uncle dropped said frog legs into the iron skillet. Well, the legs started jumping and jerking with the heat and my Mom screamed, grabbed the skillet, ran out the door, and threw the whole mess in the creek…then sat down and cried. Uncle Sonny was mad at first to lose his hard earned delicacies, but he couldn’t help laughing at my poor mom, which upset her even further. Finally, Grandma came outside to see what all the ruckus was about. Uncle Sonny told her what Mom did and Grandma made her go down over the creek bank and fetch back her good iron skillet, which made Uncle Sonny laugh harder, and made Mom mad. But she went and got it, and as far as I know, refused to ever, knowingly, eat anything from that skillet…ever again! <3

Rose Colored Glasses

Sun, 26 Oct 2014 01:30:34 -0600

“Rose Colored Glasses”

My mom always used to chastise me for looking at the world through rose colored glasses, as if that was a bad thing. I have always looked for the positive in every situation, no matter how dim or dark. When there are trials, looking for the silver lining isn’t always easy, but it can make a world of difference in how well you cope. And when life is good? Well, those rose colored glasses just absolutely rock your ensemble, girlfriend!

I can’t believe I got to the delightfully rich age of 61 without ever going to a “Sing”. Now, y’all from the hills and the country, and the hollers, and the south, and the mountains are gonna know what I’m talking about. You drive down a country road and there’s a hand-painted sandwich board sign out in front of a little country church or a community building reading “Sing Tonight. 6:00”. If you’ve never gone….please, whatever you do…pull over and go in. You might be regaled with a couple of hours of old timey Gospel music where everyone sings along. Or, you might just get the treat of your life and get to listen to three hours of nonstop bluegrass of the purest variety like I did last night. From “Nelly”, the lead singer, nattily dressed in her western skirt and vest, easily in her 80’s to “Junior”, just 15 and picking up where these amazingly talented country folk are going to leave off…a talented young man who can play guitar, bass, and “rip up a banjo”, so his grandpa told me though I didn’t have the pleasure of hearing that. I was thrilled, mesmerized, and honored beyond belief to sit in the community building down the road a piece from my new home, to be introduced around to the neighbors and family of family as the “little gal who drove a 24’ trailer…BY HERSELF…ALL THE WAY FROM COLORADO…SO SHE CAN TAKE CARE OF HER AUNT, BLESS HER HEART”… to buying a slice (or two) of my aunt’s famous Lemon Pie, and to hear the sounds of my youth, transporting me back to those Saturday nights on the farm, listening to Dolly Parton and Porter Waggoner, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, and then…the piece de resistance…the Grand Old Opry. Girls… I was in heaven. Last night was so very, very rich….my rose colored glasses are fogging up a bit!

And what’s on the agenda today? An auction, of course!!! Can it get any better than this??? <3

Anchors

Mon, 11 Aug 2014 01:30:19 -0600

“Anchors”

While the house was being shown on Saturday, I drove into town for a Starbucks fix. Afterwards, I drove by my ex-husband’s house to see if they were home. I don’t usually drop by unannounced but felt compelled this time. I wanted to share with them what my plans are in WV and spend some time catching up.

There was a time when ours was very much a love/hate relationship. Or, probably more precisely, a love/anger relationship. As with any divorce, there was a lot of this finger-pointing, he said/she said stuff going on for the first few years. Then we both remarried and a sort of truce was reached. We went to the same events without killing each other. We spoke on the phone when necessary without diving back into the dirt. We made progress, slowly but surely, but I wouldn’t necessarily say we were “friends”. Then Mr. Virgo died, and it showed us all just how fragile this thing is. This life that we think will always be there and that there’s time down the road to mend your fences. In essence, my ex and his wife were there for me whenever I needed them, for whatever reason. Several months after Mr. Virgo’s death, we decided to have family holiday dinners together so the kids didn’t have to choose which place to go to first. After Thanksgiving, he and I had a few moments by ourselves and he told me it was ironic that it took a family tragedy to make us realize that we are just that. Family. Non-traditional, eccentric, mixed faith, loving, supportive…with common goals. Health and happiness.

I spent an hour and a half on their front porch, drinking coffee, sharing stories, sharing the love only a family bond can give you. This was a long time coming, this peace. It took a lot of hard work on all of our parts and I am so proud of us. They are anchors in my life.

My prayer during those dark years was always “God, please heal my family.” And, like the loving God He is…He did. <3

A Simple Life

Mon, 04 Aug 2014 01:30:07 -0600

“A Simple Life”

I’m back! Here it is, August 4th already…can you believe it? Those three weeks literally flew by. I’ve missed you all even though I did peek in from time to time. And I am rested, refreshed and rearing to go!

I’m still snuggled up in bed, preparing my mind for the onslaught of civilization. I’m listening to the morning call of a whip-poor-will knowing full well in a few hours I’ll be hustling through busy international airports. I’m not looking forward to it…and I LOVE to fly. I want to pour a cup of coffee and go out on the front porch, the familiar stretchy squeak of the screen door spring the only sound louder than the morning birdsong. I want to see old Mama Kitty curled up in the corner, one eye opened slightly in protest over the crude interruption of her peaceful slumber. I want to listen to whip-poor-wills every day for the rest of my life.

I need to head to Colorado. I need to settle some business. I need to snuggle my babies and spoil them a little bit. I need to do the really big purge and get rid of the things in life that weigh me down. I am so grateful to my son-in-law’s mom for sitting me down and telling me to look at what I want my life to look like and make it that. I will miss my kids and grandkids and my Colorado family like crazy, and I will travel to see them as often as I can. But I also know I need to live where my heart sings…where I can stretch out and be free…where I can own a piece of God’s country. It’s time to go home.

Money will only stretch so far. When you have x-amount of dollars to spend on housing and you have a choice of a repossessed HUD home in a dicey neighborhood or a hundred acre farm, tell me…where would you go? What are you willing to let go of in order to set your heart free and give it wings? How far are you willing to fly?

Memories of Old

Mon, 23 Jun 2014 01:30:59 -0600

I ran across a catalogue with pictures of some of the old toys I had growing up. Who remembers these?

“Golden Book Encyclopedia”

I read every volume of this encyclopedia set cover-to-cover multiple times. I have always had a thirst for knowledge and a love for words.

“Firebird ‘99 Dashboard”

My brother and I took lots of “drives” in our little “car”! Beep, Beep!

“Kissy Doll”

I never had the Kissy Doll. You pressed her hands together and she made a kissing sound. I had friends who had one though. I did have that doll down in the right hand corner.

“Bride Doll”

I had two of these bride dolls. One with reddish hair and the other brunette like in this picture. Why is it the first thing a little girl does with a doll is take all their clothes off? I still have these dolls…but no clothes!

Laughter IS the best medicine!

Sun, 22 Jun 2014 01:30:43 -0600

“Laughter really IS the best medicine!”

I am blessed to have good friends who really enjoy making me laugh. Whenever I feel I’m painting myself into a corner, I know I can call these people up…anytime, day or night. The stress of life just melts away. Last night it was watching “When Harry Met Sally” and laughing our butts off even though we had seen the movie many times. Thursday it was a day spent with a dear friend browsing shops and eating our way through two towns. Tonight it was a phone call with my buddy in Florida and laughing about everything whether it was funny or not…simply for the joy of hearing the laughter of the other.

A couple of days after Mr. Virgo died, I went to Target and bought every funny movie I could find in the bargain bin. I knew I was going to need laughter as much as I was going to need tears. Laughter releases endorphins…natures opiates. Those “feel good” hormones that make any pill easier to swallow. They create a sense of euphoria when taken in large doses. They’re “good for what ails ya”, as my grandma used to say. I’ve been blessed with an oversized funny bone. I’ve been known to entertain myself when I can’t sleep by writing stand-up comedy routines instead of counting sheep. Laughter has carried me through my darkest days, and it will continue to do so.

I hope you laugh at the little things, the absurdities of life, the slapstick antics of the people surrounding you. We all deserve to feel good…and make others feel good. Here’s to laughter!

Rerun of the Rocks

Fri, 09 May 2014 01:30:26 -0600

“Rerun of The Pile of Rocks”

This was my most popular post ever. It was read by nearly 64,000 people and shared nearly 1,000 times! I have had several requests to post it again. Thank you all so much for your support!

The Pile of Rocks.

My younger daughter wears her heart on her sleeve, just like I did when I was growing up. She’s the fixer, the tenderhearted one who wants everyone to be happy. It took me many, many years to finally gain the insight I needed to help her. She thinks in analogies like I do so this is how I taught her to take care of herself in her relationships.

God gives everyone a pile of rocks. There are big rocks for the big things in life like families, jobs, houses, health. There are medium sized rocks for the average things in life like friends and laundry and soccer practice. Then there are small rocks for the mundane trivia of life like grumpy store clerks or the guy that cut you off on the freeway. God gives us extra rocks sometimes for those unexpected crises like a death in the family or the unexpected loss of a job. But, HE never gives us more than we can carry. The problem comes when WE pick up rocks that are not ours.

Picture, if you will, sitting in a great big circle with everyone you come into contact with. We’re all sitting here with our pile of rocks in front of us. Just the right amount of rocks. Just the amount that you are capable of carrying because you need to take them back home at the end of the day. Suddenly, the woman sitting across from you says something hurtful to you. If you internalize and take that personally, she has just thrown you one of her rocks and you dutifully stacked it on your pile. Now, a few folks down is your best friend. She’s having a major issue in her life and wants someone, anyone, to carry this burden for her. So you reach over and gladly take one of her rocks because that’s what friends are supposed to do, right? You sit here all day long, every day, in your circle getting rocks thrown at you and picking up others until you can’t even SEE over your pile, let alone pick it up and carry it back home!

It’s one thing to get up, walk over to your friend and help her carry a particularly heavy rock for awhile. It’s quite another to try to carry everyone else’s rocks plus your own. Let others carry their own rocks. Stop trying to own the world’s problems cause honey, you really can’t live long enough to take care of everyone else. That’s THEIR pile of rocks!

'Til Next Time

Mon, 28 Apr 2014 01:30:32 -0600

“Cowgirl Caravan”

Ok, remember your very favorite slumber party when you were a girl. Now, picture that very same slumber party but this time there’s fifty girls, you can do whatever you want for four days, and you’re not going to get in trouble. (Well, ok….at least no one is going to TELL on you!)

That’s what a Sisters on the Fly event is like. I feel like I got to sit at the cool kids table because we’re ALL cool kids! I remember when I was in my thirties and it occurred to me I had forgotten how to play. We get so caught up in our families and work and responsibilities that we push that playful girl into the background. SOTF makes girls out of women. It’s a safe place to let off steam and act silly and laugh till…well, you know. We can dress up in silly outfits and wear tiaras and tutus with our cowgirl boots. We can smoke a cigar or streak through the campground nekkid and earn a merit badge for it! (That actually happened on this trip. If there was a CPR badge, I might have streaked because anyone who witnessed it would be at grave risk!) Fun….just plain fun! Can’t wait for the next gathering. I have found my tribe.

Happy Trails!

Joyfulness

Sat, 12 Apr 2014 01:30:29 -0600

“Joyfulness”

“Joyfulness keeps the heart and face young. A good laugh makes us better friends with ourselves and everybody around us.” Orison Scott Marden

In the weeks and months following Mr. Virgo’s death, I wasn’t sure I would ever really laugh and feel joy again. True…I bought TOW-Wanda and joined Sisters on the Fly so I would have joyful things to look forward to, but it was truly difficult to look far enough ahead to see long lasting happiness. But, eventually, I did feel joy. I got my sense of humor back. I laughed again. There were times when I had to make the conscious decision to be happy, but those times have become fewer and farther between.

One of the first things I did in the days before the funeral was hit the bargain bin movies at Target and buy several comedies. My daughters and I watched a couple of them and I also found them to be very helpful during the dark months of winter. Another thing I did was surround myself with really fun and funny people. I have this one particular friend that can always, always, always make me laugh. When I’m down, I can call him and after the obligatory consolations, we are off on a laugh fest that has us rolling. I have several friends like that, actually. Laughter is SO important. It really IS the best medicine!

If you are new to this journey, trust me…you will laugh again. Your loved one wouldn’t want you moping around being sad for too long. On the other hand, take whatever time you need to grieve. And know it’s a roller coaster. There isn’t a single trajectory. There isn’t a right way or a wrong way. There is only YOUR way.

<3 Ginny

Meanwhile, back on the farm...

Tue, 08 Apr 2014 01:30:25 -0600

“Meanwhile, back on the farm…”

This photo makes me smile. We lived in this log house on two acres a few miles out of town. I grew up spending a lot of time on my grandparents’ farm in WV. I owned every issue of Mother Earth News. I cut and split wood. And I wanted a garden, so I borrowed this old John Deere and plowed the south forty. Well, 4000 square feet of it anyway. I had every vegetable you could want and they were growing like crazy. I went back home to visit family the end of June and my husband called me to break the news. We had a hard freeze and my garden was gone. June 23rd. Sigh.

I tried again the next summer and apparently the deer got the memo about the new 4000 square foot salad bar opening up because they were camped out with bibs on. Grrrrr.

I didn’t have a garden for years till I bought this house 14 years ago and I can’t say I have a proper garden. A neighbor moved and left their hot tub saying they’d be back for it. I never heard from them again. I filled it and it worked for a year. When it broke, I filled it with dirt and created the world’s biggest container garden! I got quite a lot of veggies out of it.

Hope you are enjoying your spring…wherever you are!

The Traveler

Sun, 30 Mar 2014 01:30:50 -0600

“The Traveler”

I arrived in Durango Friday afternoon and took my friend Sue’s yoga class. Man, I am so out of shape but it was fun. We visited and I met one of her friends when we stopped for tea afterwards. By the time we were done, it was getting late so we stayed at a place she is house sitting for. I slept in TOW-Wanda at the curb. I’ve become accustomed to my own bed and every time I sleep in her, the price per night goes down! ;-)

Sue and I had tea yesterday morning and did a yoga practice before heading out to her house. I got the trailer all set up then four of us headed to Hovenweep National Monument. We did a beautiful hike around the cliffs and Ancient Puebloan (formerly referred to as Anasazi) ruins. A little picnic out on a rock at the edge of the canyon was delightful. We came home and Sue fixed a wonderful vegetarian dinner and I excused myself early to go out to the trailer and make a few phone calls, read, and hit the hay. Exercise, sunshine, and fresh air leading to a great night’s sleep in the desert. What a fun, fun day!

(Photo taken at Hovenweep.)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Mon, 17 Mar 2014 01:30:58 -0600

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day!”

Mr. Virgo was a good Irish Catholic from South Philly. He loved his corned beef and cabbage. He loved his tall tales. He called me every year from the hotel on March 16th and asked me to please go to the store and buy green food coloring for the beer because someone forgot to order it. I wonder if they serve green beer in Heaven? I KNOW they serve corned beef and cabbage!

Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Mr. Virgo!

Springtime in the Rockies

Thu, 13 Mar 2014 01:30:18 -0600

“Springtime in the Rockies”

I headed to the lake Sunday afternoon. I needed to be alone with my thoughts and memories. The anniversary of Mr. Virgo’s death has come and gone. I loved being in the trailer alone. I talked to him. I cried for him. I wrote…and read…and prayed…and napped. I stared at the water and the birds. I listened to the wind and the geese. And I let it go. This year. This awful, heart-breaking, life-changing yet beautiful, blessed year. This change came from a 12 month gestation to birth a different version of me. Older, wiser, deeper. Grief knocked off some of those sharp edges and has humbled me in ways I never knew. And now? Now I’m ready to face whatever comes my way! I’m ready to tackle new projects. Travel to new places. Finish writing my book. Keep writing here. Take more pictures. Make more jewelry. Enter speaker training (not all who train are chosen, but it is a skill I can use anyway!). Paint. Learn. Grow. Teach. Fish. Hike. Camp.

Life is a precious gift. I don’t want to miss one single moment of it. So, I’m heading off to watch my grandchildren sing in the chorus of their first stage production!!!

I’ll get back to you from the road!

<3 Ginny

The Pile of Rocks

Sat, 08 Mar 2014 02:30:09 -0600

“The Pile of Rocks”

Travel Tuesday

Tue, 04 Mar 2014 02:30:41 -0600

“Travel Tuesday”

Hire me. I’m looking for the perfect job. Hire me, pay for my travel, and I’ll write about it! Sound good? Yeah, it does. Will it happen? Stranger things have! I’ll just send that little thought out into the Universe and let it gather some light and see what comes back to me. In the meantime, the reality is, we have to pay for our own travel.

I did a search of the internet and found a neat website. Women Traveling Together. They offer tours in groups no larger than 18 women travelers. 80% of the women who purchase trips are traveling unaccompanied. Once you are signed up, you can enter a secure area on their website and get to know the others on the trip ahead of time and find common interests. They also offer a membership program for $45 a year which allows you access to other solo travelers for meet and greets and planning travel outside of WTT. There is a bulletin board for posting a trip you are planning and announce you are looking for a travel companion (or two or five!).

The prices are pretty hefty. But the tours look organized, the activities look like fun, and there is safety in numbers. That security is worth a lot to women traveling alone.

Check them out at www.women-traveling.com

Valley Hall School. Dutchman Run, Macfarlan, WV

Mon, 07 Oct 2013 01:30:35 -0600

“Valley Hall School”

It may be difficult to read, but this is the sign over the entry to the school yard for Valley Hall School. It was a little one room school house that my mom and her siblings attended a mile or so from home. The building is standing, however it’s been converted to a weekend cabin of sorts. The swing is still at the back of the yard.

I have been very busy relaxing! I have enjoyed my aunt’s company and listening to stories of times past. I’ve been walking every day down the country roads of West Virginia. I’ve been cooking country meals of fried potatoes and ham. I’m enjoying getting together with friends. I went to the little white church on the hill yesterday that I have attended since before memory. It was Communion Sunday and we had 14 in attendance…a banner day! It rained all night and I didn’t sleep because I wanted to hear every drop on the tin roof. I’m sitting in the cemetery on top of the hill as that is the only place I can get cell service! The sun is setting through the leaves of gold, the breeze moving our flag so slightly. Those who rest here have no knowledge of government shutdowns, politics, or war. The days are all the same. I find that immensely comforting.

Tomorrow I head to Charleston to pick up my friend. Mr. B will be here till Monday and we are really looking forward to traipsing around the WV hills together, meeting each others’ families, seeing old friends, and revisiting a little of those glory days of our high school years. I feel so full of love, joy, and peace!

I hope you all have a fabulous week!

HOME SWEET HOME

Tue, 09 Jul 2013 02:00:00 -0600

Home. Home, sweet home. Home is where the heart is. There’s no place like home. West Virginia.

After an incredibly long delay in Cleveland, my brother and I finally fell in our beds at 1:30 this morning which was 3:30 Eastern Time. Then up early and another 4 hours’ drive with stops along the way before I got Gary to his place. He is a wonderful traveling companion. He reads the road signs, has interesting thoughts for conversation, and is so easily pleased he made traveling a joy. As most of you know, Gary has a developmental disability which he has really been able to work around and learn to live as independent a life as possible. He came to live near me 9 years ago after our mom died. I asked him if he accomplished all he wanted to do in his trip and his answer really surprised me. He said he felt he finally “got WV out of his system”. After many attempts at trying to explain what he meant, I eventually understood that Colorado is the home of his heart now and he is certain he would not be happy living in West Virginia again. I can understand that. He has a life here that he most certainly would not have achieved had he remained in Parkersburg. As a matter of fact, he told me today that if he would have stayed there after mom died, he more than likely would be living in a nursing home now. The reality of that wrenched my heart because it is true.

We drove along in silence for awhile and I told him, while he had discovered the home of his heart is truly Colorado, I had solidified that the home of my heart is West Virginia. I cried when the plane crossed the Ohio River and I touched the ground of “home”. I slept the deep sleep of contentment in my grandma’s bed, listening to the creek out the window and the rain on the tin roof. I photographed everything that I wanted to etch in my memory, as if these things weren’t already permanently embedded in my DNA. I started crying three days before we left just at the thought that I might not be at the farm again, or at least, the clock is ticking. My beautiful, eloquent, erudite aunt is 80 now. She lives at the family farm. She is the last sibling to live there. The others have their own places. Even though I LIVED in Parkersburg, I was RAISED on this farm and it is my home. I have lived in Colorado for 38 years. Doesn’t matter. When I think of “home”, it is this farm. It is my heart. I know every turn in the road, every contour of the land, every sound in the hollow. Just the smell of the earth, the rain, the trees, the flowers, are enough to send my heart soaring. This is my home. My earliest memory is at the table on my grandma’s knee. I shut my eyes and I can see the little girl I was, running to catch lightning bugs in a jar, setting up the moss and the acorns on “Tea Table Rock” with my cousins and our dolls, smushing over-ripe strawberries into my mouth with fat little-girl hands…juices dripping from my fingers and chin. This is my home. This is the place where my beloved Pop-Pop lay in his coffin for three days, resting under the living room window, with my grandma ever vigilant beside him. This is where I learned to cook, to quilt, to can. This is where I learned about God, learned to pray, to go to church, to be a good person. This is where I brought my babies to be rocked and loved on and spoiled as only grandmas can do, where they combed their “Big Grandma’s” hair, and took moon baths by the rain barrel on hot August nights. This is my home, it flows through my veins as surely as my lifeblood.

I am certain that these things hit me more deeply this trip because my heart is still tender, my feelings still raw and open after losing the other part of my heart in March. I have already lost so much, must I also lose my “home”? It happens to almost everyone, I suppose. There comes a time when things of the past are just that…the past. I have my children, my grandchildren, my brother, my friends here in Colorado. I have built a life here. But forever, and for always, this farm will be my home.

SISTERS ON THE FLY AND MY TOW-WANDA SAVED ME

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 02:00:51 -0600

And there she is….TOW-Wanda! Dressed in all her finery at the “Home on the Grange” event for Sisters on the Fly! I knew that coat was going to come in handy some day!

A NEW TRAILER...A NEW LIFE

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 02:00:43 -0600

So, I got home from Denver yesterday with the new trailer! Yay! Spent the afternoon putting things in it and started decorating. I’m going with a turquoise and red theme from the 40’s/50’s. I had a mailbox full of cards which was very nice. I had several packages of supplies that were delivered. And one box from a friend back home in WV. I opened it and there was a beautiful quilt she had made for me. It has the Lord’s Prayer on it. What a sweet gift! Thanks Ginny! Check out her page at Log Cabin Country Quilts in Marietta, OH

MARSHMALLOW RANCH

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 03:00:27 -0600

A lot of people ask where I got the name “Marshmallow Ranch”. When my older daughter got engaged, we brought her new fiancé to West Virginia to meet the family. This was in the summer of 1994. She was twenty and her little sister was four. Yes…my children are just about sixteen years apart! What was I thinking??? Anyway, one sunny afternoon, we went for a drive. In West Virginia, when they bale the hay in those big round bales, they wrap them in white plastic to protect them from the rain. The farmer leaves them in the field to cure and before long, the grass has greened up around them and they look all the world like giant marshmallows waiting to be harvested. As we came around a curve, we saw them and my then four-year-old asked breathlessly, “Mama!!! What ARE those?” Her sassy older sister proclaimed we had happened upon the native grounds where the wild marshmallow grows. Here, they are harvested, cut into small pieces, bagged, and sent off to the grocery store for our enjoyment in such delicacies as hot cocoa or s’mores. My little one was stunned…till I made her sister tell her the truth!

Segue to 2002 and I had opened a small needlework supply shop in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Needles and Pins was my sanctuary…my therapy to deal with a particularly painful divorce. I sold mostly cross-stitch supplies and even dabbled with some original designs. Cross-stitch designers all have very cute names like “Blackbird Designs”, “Cross Eyed Cricket”, and “Bird of a Feather”. If I was going to sell my own designs, I wanted a cute name people would remember. I was rummaging through a box of old pictures one day and stumbled across the one we took that summer day in West Virginia and I knew I had my name! Anything I made myself and sold under the auspices of Needles and Pins were labeled from the subsidiary…“Marshmallow Ranch”. Unfortunately, my needlework shop closed in 2005, but when I dropped to part-time work in December 2012, I decided to try to make an income from my own creativity. I cleared out a room for an art studio in my house high in the Rocky Mountains and dubbed it Marshmallow Ranch. So…here I am, creating jewelry out of antique silverware and maps and other ephemera. Stay tuned an see what creations come from this artist’s bench!