Looking ahead...

The new thing appears to be sending out Save the Date cards, this in anticipation of our son's impending wedding in September.  I texted both of them saying how pretty is it.  We're working on the relationships, and are making splendid headway.  Thankful for that. :)

Being a mom

Got out to myself for a bit this afternoon.  Oldest daughter was taking a nap, so I was able to use her car.  Gary was at the shop with the truck, so I had to borrow.  Small change.  Nice to be away from the house.  Needs to happen much more often.  Sanity, you know.  Listened to Taylor Swift (blame my girls), and Plumb. Daughter's car has exceptional speakers.  Makes you all silly happy just to listen.

Went to the library after picking up a couple of things for youngest son's 19th birthday on Monday.  This son....he's unique.  Very quiet and shy, but when you ask his opinion, he's very sure of himself.  

Anyway, he draws.  And draws extremely well.  He asked for an anatomy book for his birthday, a bit like the type we'd use when I was in college.  I had a life drawing class then, and we were offered the choice of using nude or clothed models.  I knew I'd die of embarrassment to be in a class with a nude model, but we all were pretty grown-up about it.  It wasn't about being naughty.  Our son and I talked yesterday about that sort of stuff, especially considering what some of his brothers have gotten up to.  He was aware of my point in the conversation and I was able to share with him exactly what was on my mind.  He has a wisdom in his youth that I appreciate.  I'm praying his head is where it needs to be, especially because of the art books he's using for his work.  Even Leonardo da Vinci (who he's really partial to, was a bit edgy).  He said you might as well be adult about it.  It's about learning to draw the parts of the person.  Not about looking at those things wrong.  I told him that while he might feel there's more pressure on him and the remaining brother who's straight up, that's not the intention.  But stressed how easy it is to get off-track.  Three brothers wandering, two walking the narrow.  Sweetly he said for me to not give up on the others.  I loved that.  And, no, I haven't.

Back to the outing.  Went to the library bookstore and got Beowulf for my main squeeze.  He's reading War and Peace too.  Show-off.  Also got Stillmeadow Calendar by Gladys Taber and The Prayers of Peter Marshall (the only one of Catherine Marshall's I'd not had).  Spent a sweet four bucks total.  

Now, about listening to Plumb---she has a song called 'Cut' about just that.  Cutting.  One son dabbled in that, but I think it was more on the level of curiosity, not about seriously doing it.  My experimental son.  Anyway, at about 2:27 into that song, she really belts it out.  That's what I need to do.  Or find a mountain and just yell over the side.  Or as I've said before, throw oranges against a tree.  The stress is less since I'm paying attention to what sets me off, but still, couldn't we all benefit from a bag of oranges?

Healing things

Was able to buy a couple of concoctions for healing today.  Thuja Occidentalis for skin stuff (a wart and skin tags specifically) and Eleuthero tincture for my poor weak adrenals.  Probably my immune system is pretty shot and any help will be beneficial.  Interestingly enough, I'd not know that warts are generated by a virus.  The Thuja from what I've read, if taken orally (it's tiny pills), can work from the inside out and clear out the virus.  I find that wonderful.  Topical cures don't always work for that very reason.  We'll see how this flies.

The Eleuthero (Siberian Ginseng) is useful as a mild stimulant in place of caffeine, plus it makes your adrenal glands happy.  Mine need lots of that, since they've been mistreated.  By my children.

Might make myself a Spring Tonic too.  As it is, I strained out several herbs (after their four weeks of steeping) and ended up with five little brown glass bottles of Echinacea in EverClear, five of Elderberry in Vodka, a Passion Flower in Rum, and a Chasteberry in Rum.  

While I only dabble in embroidery and handwork, don't knit and rarely crochet dish towels, I do enjoy a morning of mixing my medicines.  Guess that's my super power.

'This is My Body' by Ragan Sutterfield

When after putting a book down you feel light and encouraged, that has to be a good thing.  I wasn't sure at first about Ragan Sutterfield's book This is My Body.  I was intrigued when I ordered it to review, thinking about his struggles with weight and then competing in and finishing the race to become an Ironman.  Amazing.  Anything is possible.  But I got a tiny bit overwhelmed at the details about his college years, and the frank way he shared.  He's so real.  Maybe more honest about his past than I was comfortable with, but that's the trend these days.  Anything is open game.  He's humble, though, and not arrogant in talking about his personal monsters.  His upbringing was traditional and fundamental.  Went to Wheaton, which he's quick to lay out as 'not the Christian university we all like to think it is.'  But he got off course in his personal life, had a bad first marriage, went up and down with his weight, but wanted very deeply to experience joy.  He just went about it the wrong way.  What else is new, right?  We all have been there in one way or another.

I guess overall, Ragan tells his readers that Christians sometimes are as confused as everyone else, but with Christ in us, really in us, we have an advantage.  His preparations to compete in the Ironman weren't just about finishing, but about a physical experience of living for Christ and not just a spiritual one.  He make the argument that our bodies are important as our spirits.  Christ indwells us.  Think about it.

His discussions about the Anglican faith were a draw as well, as he spoke about the disciplines necessary to maintain a daily faith walk.  The Book of Common Prayer was a blessing to him, as it is to me.  Good comparison,  He kept at the prayers as he trained.  Both require devotion and consistency, the key to succeeding at anything.

So as I said, after I put it down I felt light and encouraged.  He makes change feel do-able, and I did enjoy that feeling.  

(i received this book free to review from bloggingforbooks)

More rest

Woke up earlier than usual this morning.  Stayed in bed 'til six, then heard the Voice in my head tell me to go outside.  The sun was beginning to make the sky light, but the chickens still slept.  As soon as I opened the back door, though, the sounds of the birds along with traffic on the main drag a few streets north of us hit me.  Loud.  And we'd slept with the window open.  I'd not known how loud it'd be.  My goodness.  Usually when I let the chickens out I'm not interested in experiencing nature.  Just get 'er done.  

Took a blanket out with me and sat in the cherry Adirondack chair Gary'd made.  Looked up and watched the stars fade away.  Wished I'd gotten out there about half an hour earlier.  I love the moment when the sky is black and it slowly turns blue.  Saw a hawk in the next door neighbor's tree---way, way up.  Heard the local owl across the street, hooting before going to sleep.  The little birds raided the chicken feed that'd gotten knocked out of their dish the night before.  Safe in the backyard.

Stayed out long enough to see the sun rise far enough to slip into the chicken coop.  They kerflumped off of their roost, and began making noise.  Let them out, fed them, and went back inside.  Got into bed, reset the alarm and got up again at just before ten.  It was enough.

* * *

I'm realizing the dear importance of taking time, and slowing down.  Those aren't really the same thing.  You can take time to do things, but run through them.  Sort of defeats the purpose.  I'm being more deliberate.  I feel fragile.  But I like it.

The Lord told me last week that this period would be a blessing to me.  That the need for me to stop was necessary so I'd not self-destruct.  I know that's true.  

Sitting for about half an hour with chickens everyday when it's not raining.  Milk hops up, and now Nora is a regular lap-sitter as well.  Two hens all cozied up in my lap.  Heaven.  

I can't really explain to my husband what's going on.  He's a fixer and while he tries to understand, it's enough for him that I'm not running around like mad.  My temper is settled, and I'm not so quick to lose my cool.  I've been like a live wire for so long.  Now I'm not.  I pay a price for that now that's not a good exchange.  

My advice.  When you feel like you're losing control on a regular basis, make changes.  Two women at church are 'doers'....they have a strong servant's heart going on, both of them.  I was sharing with one of them on Sunday and she had a glazed look on her face.  Told me about a girl who had to leave church (I mentioned a bit ago), who had Adrenal Failure.  Sounds serious.  But this friend couldn't see where she was headed herself.  We're not machines.  And I don't think the Lord would have us live like it.

Rest well.

Saturday evening

A quiet day.  Didn't go anywhere, which was a treat.  Saturdays tend to busyness, what with usually buying flowers for church (no more flowers until lilies for Easter), going grocery shopping, etc.  Doing less is best.  Gary and I bought a few things at the store last night, which was the most brilliant thing either of us did all week.  Really.

Mentioned to the childrens' Sunday School teacher that I needed to take a break from helping her.  Just some time.  She was cool about it.  One of the nicest folks I know, so not surprised at her sweetness.  Her daughter will help her, while I get my bearings.  

~figured you'd want to see it

Oldest daughter gave me a tiny toy train engine to keep in my pocket, for when I lose my train of thought.  Cracks me up every time I think of it, especially considering she has one as well.  She keeps it in her jeans' pocket ALL the time.  And this girl doesn't even have a boyfriend.  Consider.  Is that even right?  She's got the sense of humor that slips up behind you.  My favorite kind.  Actually, after former who was sweet Indian boyfriend acted unseemly, she's taking her time.  The Lord hasn't brought any young men into her life, and she's in no hurry.  Wise, I'm thinking.

New neighbor working on house next door.  The house on the other side of us is vacant too, and glad this woman is moving in to the house furtherest (is that a word?) away from the chicken coop.  Milk was very loud this morning, wanting Anastasia to get her little behind out of the nesting box.  They have two, but are partial to the one.  They'll just carry on until the chicken setting gets out of it.  We'll end up with 3-4 eggs on one side.  They aren't real bright.

Believing God for great things around here.  I feel it deep inside.  No signs yet, and usually that's the way the Lord works.  Where lately He's said to me, "Do you trust me?"  Well, that's morphed into, "Do you have faith?"  There is a difference.  I'm learning to believe when there is absolutely no proof He even heard me, but we know that's just silly.  He heard and He will answer.  

Saw two of my out-of-the-house boys today.  That was a blessing in itself.  Hang on (I'm talking to you.)  He's there.  And He's here.

End of the week...

This Adrenal Fatigue nonsense isn't funny.  It affects everything.  Was doing fine until our across-the-street neighbor had a bit of drama on Wednesday afternoon played out in their yard and in the street.  I won't go into detail but to say it was troubling enough that my already weak system sort of collapsed.  And if your body can't respond to stress with adrenaline, then other things act sorta wacky.  Again, I won't go into detail.  Let's just say that when your adrenaline is low, then your body craves salt, and when your body throws off salt, then---well, you know.

I've been diggin' me some Fritos lately.

So.  I'm having to go to extra efforts to chill out.  No fussing, no overdoing it, no physically hard tasks, just self-care.  And do you know how hard that is?  Get ready to jump and do something, and very quickly realize you just can't.  Learn how to breathe again because you've gotten into the habit of breathing in a shallow manner.  Avoid negativity, because the funny thing is---adrenal fatigue isn't created by the physical, but the mental.  Constant pressures in your head result in your body crashing.

If you read about it, you find that one of the cures is pleasure.  Joy.  Having fun.  Meditating.  Taking walks.  Enjoying you life.  Who knew?  Your adrenal glands jump in gladness when you smile.  When you smile!  I'm not kidding.

What could be easier?  Or harder if, like me, you're so used to doing for others.  Try to put yourself at the top of the food chain for a change, and see how difficult that is.  Way difficult.

As a result, I sit outside at night and pray.  Leave lots of white space.  Not being spiritual here, but needy.  Wanting a blessing, but simply experiencing the everyday.  I was laying all of this out before the Lord last night, and had requests for each of my immediate family.  Then I came to and asked what the Lord would ask of me.  I can be so self-centered.  Silence.  Maybe He's only asking me to show up.  And for me, the busy one, even sitting still for that is a sometimes challenge.

'Undone' by Michele Cushatt

Sometimes you read a book at a particular time and you know the Lord has placed it in your hands right then.  That's the way it was for me, reading Michele Cushatt's book Undone.  And, seriously, they should sell it with a pencil attached, because I underlined throughout the entire book.  

Michele shares her journey through a cancer diagnosis (which I can't relate to, but learned from), divorce (which also isn't on my radar), unruly teenagers (yes to that), telling a child they have to move out when they refuse to follow the house rules (again yes), becoming a foster parent to three little ones (oh my) and all the varied experiences of a believer who's just trying to find their way (amen).

With abundant grace and humor, she shares her life.  All the ugly bits and the parts where God is truly a Loving God.  The book is beautiful.

For anyone, I'm thinking women, but from the reviews it appears men are also blessed, who feels at a loss, this book could be a huge blessing.  I know it was for me.

(i received this book free to review from booklookbloggers)

Tuesday morning

~the correct way to do a selfie

I saw a book to review with a title about doing twice the amount of stuff in half the time, or something like that.  Seriously?  Are we still into that mindset?  Still multi-tasking?  Say it isn't so.

Which reminds me...

Picked up a reserve book yesterday at the library about Adrenal Fatigue, and I took several of the quizzes and while I don't rank as high on Burnout, I rank as a wash in Adrenal Fatigue.  Surprised I'm still standing upright.   

Made me so relieved to read her suggestions.  I get so tired of being on go all the time.  Even if it's just all in my head... the need to hurry, that is, not imagining my extreme fatigue. 

There's hope.  I'm already trying to avoid confrontation, squeeze in more joyful things to do....really trying to focus on self-care.

Years ago my cousin called me a doormat, not meaning I don't think, to be hurtful.  But see, here it is, I remember that.  So I'm tired of doing all the time, being available.  She had a point.  Even now it applies.

Hanging with my chickens, sitting outside in the sun, digging in the earth, walking barefoot outside when I can, writing in my journals, opening the curtains and windows, and taking time.  We could all do with less hurrying, and more being still.

Here's another thing on my mind.  Mental housecleaning. When we were making plans on moving my Mom to rehab,  I got into it with my brothers.  They weren't involved,  as much I needed them to be,  pretty much leaving all the research and planning to me.  I got all flustered,  and my oldest brother accused me of being overly dramatic.  Okay,  I ask you.  When did it get to be alright for someone to abdicate their role in a situation by leveling accusations,  leaving the accused to assume they were right?

I think part of my inward stress is connected with feeling abandoned to handle my mom's needs either all alone,  or with just my mates here in our house.  My brothers toss money her way, but that's,  pretty much, the extent of their involvement.

I get shamed by my behavior,  and then feel inadequate for the job.  Guilt on my brother's part is likely his motive for attacking.  The thing is,  that's never right. 

Joy, no matter

~first breakfast of the year outside with the girls

Okay.  Here we go again.  No work in the shop.  The phrase, 'Do you trust Me?' ringing in my ears.  Gary even said a few minutes ago, he's having issues with that very same word.  Manna today.  I've even got Manna for tomorrow. :)  A day ahead, which isn't Biblical, but hey, I was at the store today.  One more bag of Navy beans and I can add bacon and this and that and make dinner.  

I read something at Relevant Magazine online (followed on FB, so that's how I found it), about slowing down enough to hear the Lord.  I'm going to quote, and give credit, so maybe that'll be okay.

"God’s response to Elijah’s desperation is at odds with what we’d expect. It’s simple and straightforward:

Sleep.

Eat.

Wait.

Stop and listen.

God chooses when He speaks.

God chooses what questions to answer.

God sets the tone.

In short, God wants Elijah to slow down and seek Him. He is not responding to Elijah’s sense of urgency.

When prayer is born of urgency, we’re dictating the questions God needs to answer rather than listening for the counsel He wants to give."~Ken Wytsma

The whole article can be found here.

* * * 

Beautiful.  The advice isn't to do something more, but to stop doing things.  Keep your mitts off, which is what my husband has said to me before, but the Lord says it in a gentle God-sort-of-way.  The Lord wanted Elijah to be still.  "I got this, Elijah."

My tendency in the past has been to keep reminding God of what's happening.  Beg.  Plead.  Make myself miserable.  Sort of like the nagging wife, which is something none of us want to aspire to.  

* * *

In other news....my husband is understanding my love of Anglicanism.  Get this.  He said yesterday he understands something about the Anglicans he'd been missing.  He's said before (well, several times), that he finds the brevity of our priest's sermons (called homilies) not a learning experience like he's used to.  Most times, though, there is a sweet nugget of blessing.  You have to be open, though.  Stand tough, and you can't always hear that still, small Voice.  He's gotten his feathers ruffled a bit in comparing these homilies to the long sermons of our past church-going.  He said, and I loved this, "The Presbyterian and Baptist churches are more into teaching lessons in church, while the Anglicans are all about Worship."

Bingo.

God is working, so I'll sleep, eat, wait, stop & listen.  I'm liking this plan.

'The Postage Stamp Vegetable Garden' by Karen Newcomb

The Postage Stamp Vegetable Garden by Karen Newcomb is WONDERFUL.  I made a mental list of things I wanted to know before beginning to dig our garden plot this spring, and every one was answered in this gem of a book.  She even says on the back cover that a 5x5' garden can produce 200 pounds of food.  Amazing.

I was so encouraged.  The chapters cover preparing the soil, composting (so many types), which plants love others, including using flowers and herbs in companion planting.  She also covers pets and other annoyances.

What surprised me was her advice on planting in pots indoors.  I tend to set limits on myself, not realizing the potential for success.

This book is all you need for a small garden, though her diagrams include spaces as large as 8x10'.  I have the sneaking suspicion my copy will get nice and gnarly by the end of summer, but that's as it should be.

More information can be found at www.postagestampvegetablegardening.com.

(i received this book free to review from bloggingforbooks)

Saturday

Fourth son came by this morning to pick up youngest son for a shopping spree.  Really, just lunch and small trips here and there.  Guess that qualifies as a spree.  I'd not seen this son in over a week, and even when I saw him again this afternoon at the grocery store (an unplanned, though happy, surprise), I found myself staring at him.  Wondering if he's eating right (he tends to thinness) and if he's happy inside.  He looks gobsmacked.  I told Gary he looks like someone pulled the rug out from under him and he can't quite figure out what happened.  Well, that's sort of what DID happen.  But, sadly he pulled the rug out from under himself.  And when he told Gary a few weeks ago about his lifestyle, his dad said to him, "Are you sure you want to go this way?  Are you sure?"

Oh my.

At Bible study on Wednesday, the teacher on the video for Isaiah mentioned us laying things out before God, asking for His intervention---especially when we can't do a thing.  Powerlessness.  I feel that way a lot.  Mentioned how sometimes we pull together our bills that we can't pay, including mortgages and all the twiddly bits of life at God's feet and ask Him to cause a miracle to happen.  But it's never a miracle with Him.  Just business as usual.  We tend to think all these bad things require some outlandish involvement from the Lord.  He's seen it before----for centuries.  I'm glad the Bible is full of blessed misfits.  Makes me feel better for our houseful.

In searching for another header photo, I was looking on my phone.  Saw the Christmas photos we'd taken, and with zooming in, can see how sad and lost our children look.  All but a couple of them.  Middle daughter is now suffering consistently from migraines---I believe stress-related.  The least one is still herself, but a more sober version.  And these are children.  Children.  It shouldn't be this way.  Their brothers, who they love dearly, have messed with their joy.

Spring Break.

A time to breathe, rest, take time to refresh.  Put things in perspective.  Get enough sleep to make the waking up parts happier.  Lightheartedness.  I want me some.  Grounding.  Walking barefooted in the front yard on the prickly brown grass.  And praying all the while for the redemption of our dear children.

Friday evening

Just me and the girls at home today.  Youngest son spent the day at Mom's, which he does most Fridays.  Rain.  Cleaning.  Slowing down.  Lots of quiet time.  Washed all the clothes, folded them in piles on the dining room table for everyone to fetch.  Chicken pie for dinner, which went on hold while Gary cleaned up a partial quart can of white trim paint I upended on our wooden kitchen floor.  Can't tell a thing from the floor, though I'm out a bit of paint. :)  Tidied up a treat.  Darn stuff ran under the dryer and stove.  Imagine that.

Washed our sheets too, which I enjoy having clean, but dislike putting them back on.  Yeah, I have the lazy gene, I guess.  Good at starts, not so good at finishes.

I can't remember when I've done so much puttery housework.  The daze I've been in since our boys went into the Grand Rebellion is lifting just a tad.   Enough to see the glimmer of light.  I'm doing a bit at a time---sort of deep cleaning and re-arranging, but not overdoing it.  Just enough, then I sit down with the Pugs with a glass of lightly vinegar-ed water.

Guess you could say I simply enjoyed the day.

And tomorrow looks fine, weather-wise.  The rain should be clearing up, and the sun beginning to show through.  Will buy flowers for the altar---it's Rose Sunday, a break from Lent (which I don't observe with a fast...just hard to teach this old dog that new trick) and we'll have a pancake breakfast before services.  I'll be setting up the altar as well.  And maybe I'll not forget anything.  Seems I'll put out the wine and wafers, the extra cloths for wiping the goblet rims, etc. and as Communion is being prepared by our priest, I'll jump inside while sitting in my pew, realizing I've forgotten something.  Happens consistently.  Goodness.  Maybe not this week.  Have got a steep learning curve with some of this Anglican business.  But thankfully everyone's the same and we all learn as we go along.

Take care, and remember to take some time.  Think I'll go light my new Peach Cobbler Yankee candle.  And have more tea.  Always more tea.

Thursday evening

Wonderful weather.  Cloudy, but so pleasant.  A couple of windows up, but not many because Daisy the Pug has had her cough again.  Giving her echinacea, and she's better.   Raining now, but still, the temperatures are dishy.  Relaxes my spirit.

Bible study last night with the first 12 chapters or so of Isaiah.  Gary's been going, and he's getting to know folks, albeit that they're Anglicans (insert laughter), and he's seeing that they're not too scary.  Just folks.  My dear Presbyterian husband.  He's learning.  He knows I'm not budging, not in rebellion, but in belonging-ness.  

At the end of the study last night, our priest was talking about the Eucharist and why he has his back to the congregation when he prepares it, and I was mesmerized.  I just love listening to him---he's been blessed with a teaching gift.  He faces the cross which is at the top of the altar, breaks the bread and holds it up--and does the same with the wine.  He was talking about facing the heavenlies in worshiping the Father.  Liturgical East.  It's all so beautiful when it's explained.  So worshipful. 

~ ~ ~ 

And got to spend some time with the chickens before dinner.  Cleaned out their house a bit, gathered up the eggs, and sat while they ate some bread and seed I'd brought out.  As usual, Milk hopped up in my lap.  Adore.  The.  Chickens.  But you knew that.

Now drinking Vanilla tea and thinking about Spring Break, which I'm just beside myself about.  It begins NOW, not Monday.  We're going to bake chocolate chip cookies for some new neighbors---both rentals, one has a mess of young men in it, very friendly it seems, and another is a single mother with two little girls.  Just making folks welcome in our pleasantly ragged little neighborhood. :)

Music update:  Loving me some Spotify again (free is always a good thing), this time a Mumford & Sons song called Ghosts That We Knew.  Right about 3:20 is my favorite part.  The instrumental section.  Oh my, it makes me feel so good inside to listen to it. 

Boom

And sometimes things sort of need to hit the fan.  Stuff it down long enough and don't pay attention to the need for quiet and time alone.  Let the house get into a state of unlovelyness.  Have interrupted sleep.  Allow guilt to take hold.  Forget to make a set time to pray daily.  Listen to too much noise.  Endure too many cloudy days.  

The cure...

Explode.  Well, a little bit.  Anger can be healing, and in this case it was.

Clean out the refrigerator of leftovers you maybe didn't realize were left over.  Wipe down counters and get out the bleach.  Fix something you can fix while other things are unfixable.

Hug someone you love to bits.  Get into bed and rest.  Listen to a few songs by Mumford & Sons (I Will Wait).  Who can be sad listening to a banjo?

Monday late afteroon

*Taking next week off for Spring Break (the weather should be clearing off even more), but as a treat today, we all went to a different library across town.

*Stopped by oldest son's work on the way and I was able to give him a hug.  He has such beautiful lavender eyes.  Pained me to see him, knowing how he's living, but until he's ready to make a change, will continue to keep the communication open and pray.

*Went by store on the way home, and oldest daughter bought a coconut layer cake for us to enjoy after dinner.

*Now covered up in bed, curtains pushed aside (drizzly day), drinking a hot cup of creamy tea (PG Tips), pile of new/to re-read books beside me.  I've read Erica Baurmeister's books, but got them again.  A children's book---A House Like a Lotus by Madeleine L'Engle, and Mary Simses' The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Cafe (sensing this one might be too chick lit for right now) and Shakespeare's Kitchen by Lore Segal.  Kept walking the fiction aisles asking the Lord for ideas.  Easy reading to a certain extent, but not too soft. Sometimes I feel as if I've read all the titles that suit me, being that it's so hard to find new books that settle the part of me that yearns for something fresh.  I kept picking up books with the words loss, grief, misery, and drama in them.  Over and over again, and not deliberately.  I have enough of those nouns in my life, so something that brings joy to mind is always appealing.  Oddly, the books I got either deal with cooking, or have cooking terms in the titles.  I'm seeing a trend of where I find my comfort.  

*I have a hankering to do some deep cleaning.  Maybe partly a subliminal message to myself about cleaning in other ways.  Not sure.

*I want to re-fresh the woodwork with a can of glossy white paint.  Gather some old books to re-sell.  Dust behind bookshelves.  Vacuum everything that doesn't move.  Yeah, I can feel spring creeping around the corner.

*Sitting here, wondering how it got to be past 5:30pm without me paying attention.  The day has whooshed by.  Must go boil some more pasta to go with the spaghetti sauce I made yesterday.

*Husband is making spoons today, and looking forward to seeing what he brings home.  Shop has been quiet with the icy weather, but expect things to pick up soon.  I know.  God has this. :)

*Take care, sweet friends.  Must go begin dinner.

Saturday night's mutterings

Our oldest daughter quit her job about a month ago, siting exhaustion, which was right on target.  Every so often, she'd gotten to the point of total frustration being that her boss would leave her completely in charge (which was an honor), but also with a heap-load of work to do alone.  Not surprising, when she quit, she immediately had gall bladder trouble, which thankfully I knew how to treat.  Stress.  Her body was rebelling.  Didn't help that at the same time, her brothers decided to be rebellious.  Bad timing, plus it was on the heels of her breaking off a 3-year relationship.  

Since her senior year of high school, she's worked, starting part-time at the antique shop where my husband has his shop.  And about three years ago she moved on to a machine embroidery shop, specializing in monogramming.  Not sure why I'm telling you that, but only to say she's been busy for 10 years.  Worked constantly.

I've been thinking a lot about pauses.  Times of quiet.  Extended moments of rest.  And as I thought about what that meant, I passed over what I've been doing for the last thirty-plus years.  College, met my husband the month after graduation, engaged two months later and married within eight months of our meeting-----I worked at a commercial Interior Design firm, and 2 years later we had our first child, followed by seven more including two miscarriages.  Homeschooling, which will continue for five more years.

No pauses.

The only rest has been the snatches I've taught myself to grab.  Operative word being 'grab' which is sort of sad.  I can remember the best pauses, one standing out when our power went out a few years back.  It was summer-time and hot, but there was a peace about it.  No electricity, which is a pain when it's hot, but not hearing the subtle hum of the wires (I know, it's all in my head) was so restful. (I stand by my belief that electricity makes noise.)  I even enjoyed using candles at night.  Being hot isn't a memory at all, but the deep quiet was wonderful.

And at William Faulkner's house back in the fall.  Standing in his front garden and soaking in the silence.  And a recent trip to the library alone I gradually got to the place inside where I feel so smooth.  I'm telling you, it rarely happens, and I can't make it.  It has to just come to me.  Do you know what I'm talking about?....not just time of rest, but the times where your physical body feels it too.  Deep restfulness.  I'm telling you, it's very rare.

Not sure where I'm going with this, but for the remaining years the Lord blesses me with I'd enjoy discovering how to achieve that restfulness deep inside without it happening in a serendipitous-sort-of-way.  Guess I want to command it.  Good luck with that, huh?

More is on my plate than is wise.  Even tomorrow I have Sunday School alone, which is fine, but do you realize how many times we say something is fine, when it really isn't?  We pile on stuff, lots of it important, but since everybody does it, it seems required.  Do some, and when you're done, do more.  Is life supposed to be this way?

I don't want to stay so busy doing nonessential things (how to decide which things fit in this category?) that there's no energy to do the fun stuff.  Again, how to figure that one out is a mystery.

Just where my head is tonight.  Time to set the clock ahead and get ready for bed.  Morning will be here sooner than I'm wanting.  Take care all.

One more thing...oldest daughter and I saw the 'Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel' movie this afternoon.  Full theatre.  A treat for sure, and as good as the first one. :)

More birds

So, my mother-in-law sees similarities in the old lady in Mary Poppins and me with our chickens.  Yeah, I guess I can see what she's talking about. :)

Snow. Finally.

Snow.  'Bout time.  I think it's been awhile since we had a real snowday.  This past month we've had a generous dose of ice, one spell in particular, but to wake to this glory was a treat.  The house inside was so nice and bright with the white reflected through the windows.  So cheery.  

~dear anastasia

The chickens have been in shock, however, with them being hesitant to even step outside their coop, though later in the afternoon they hopped out for a tiny bit.  Probably were cussin' the whole time.  We ended up putting their water and food inside of the coop for them.  I filled their water container with warm water and they just drank, drank and drank.  Was able to hold  Anastasia for a bit, and Milk (who's always good for a hug), and wish I could've sat out there, but it was way cold today.  No dry spots to pause and sit.  There's something so centering about being with them everytime, though.  Every time.  Chickens are perfect for my mental health.  Would you figure?  Can't wait until it's warm enough in the morning to take my tea outside with them.

I do think this is our last cold blast.  Our last freeze date is in April, but surely we can actually think about spring now.  I want to force some Forsythia, if it's not frozen.  Maybe tomorrow.

Seeking some joy, and that might be a good place to start.

'Loved Back to Life' by Sheila Walsh

Sheila Walsh's new book called Loved Back to Life came to me just at the right time.  Depression is the norm for me, not to the extent she's suffered with it, but a part of my daily walk nonetheless.  

It's interesting to me how she was treated by the Christian community when her struggles became public knowledge.  Sadly as believers we tend to think we have to portray a perfect lifestyle, which oddly enough, diminishes proof of God's work in us.  

Back in the 90's Sheila was a host on the 700 Club, was a very popular Christian singer, and appeared to have everything going for her.  Her routine of working Monday through Friday for the 700 Club, then flying out to do concerts, all the while never letting. on how difficult it was, finally had its way with her.  She never let on that it was too much, she just ceased to be able to manage it.  Life lost its joy.  That certainly sounds familiar.  She crashed and ended up checking into a Christian-based psychiatric hospital.  There she learned to handle her stress, and let go of her need to be perfect.  We all should be so wise.

The part of the book that reached me so clearly was when she spoke sharply to her friends, who then let her know her harsh words really hurt them.  Her counselor who she shared with told her to write the following out every morning:  "God loves a woman with a quiet and a gentle spirit."  She called herself a 'quiet terrorist'---"someone who didn't look like an angry person, but who liked to quietly control things from the sidelines."

Yes. 

I underlined all through this book and would freely recommend it to anyone who either struggles with depression or the need to exhibit perfectness.  It's not worth it.

(i received this book free to review from booklookbloggers)

Rest

It pours.  The temperature continues to drop.  The chicken yard sucks shoes off your feet, with the extreme wetness.  Groceries in.  Not much, if any, bread left on the store shelves.  A chocolate sour cream cake to bake. 

I feel easy.  My mind is calm.  When oldest daughter comes home, my chickens who brood here will be safe.  Dinner tonight will be a simple meal.  Tomorrow we'll feast,  just in case we're iced in,  with barbecue, potato salad, and baked beans.  Food that sticks around.

Having nowhere to go, food in the house, and books to read makes my heart feel restful. Reading Woolf's 'To the Lighthouse' now.  Oh my is all I'll say.  Delicious.

Grace

With any strong emotion or experience, I think there are stages most folks go through.  Well, that's my experience.  When my dad died (21 years ago), I remember asking my mom weeks afterward if she was angry, and she looked at me so surprised.  My dad had smoked for always, and lung cancer is what caused his death.  Still, she said that she'd not been angry.  Maybe since then she has, but then, no.

With the knowledge of our kids' lifestyle choices I've been angry. Initially shocked, followed closely by 'how could you?'  Have tried to think of how to handle it, fix it, make it right.  I've battered our sons with words, both in my head (mostly in my head) and in a few emails.  Tried to use persuasion to get through, because surely I can get into their spirits.  Anger, surely, but until I re-read what I'd sent, hadn't realized how powerful my words had been.  Sometimes too much honesty isn't wise.

Grace.  That's what our oldest showed to me in return when I wrote to him tonight asking for his forgiveness.  

Humility is a good thing, but painful to experience.

I'll love them through their sin as they do me.  I sure don't have all the answers.

Funny thing.  The Lord may or may not be changing our sons.  He is changing me.  Who knew?  The rough edges need softening up.  And yes, it hurts.  But a good hurt.