Summer has slipped quietly into memory. The air still hums with warmth, but the season of freedom—the weeks of long mornings, of wandering and lollygagging—has drawn to a close. I knew it would. It always does. That’s the way of things.
This summer did not fly by in a blur; it stretched, slow and generous, like a deep breath I didn’t know I needed. I woke to mornings without obligations, with no destination waiting. I lingered in the garden—small but abundant—watering when I wished, clipping blooms, photographing their brief perfection as reminders of what thrived and what faltered.
From the comfort of my deck, I listened to the familiar symphony of summer: the laughter of children splashing in plastic pools, the whir of lawn mowers, motorcycles humming faintly on distant roads, aspens whispering secrets to the breeze. This year the storms spared my little patch of green, and with the rains it grew lush, like a pocket of jungle in the city.
I walked miles, not every day, but enough to feel my body lengthen into the years ahead. I began books and paintings, though few found their endings. I prayed often, as my grown children scattered into adventures—motorbikes on open roads, camping trips under wet skies, transatlantic flights for work. They lived widely; I lived quietly, and still, through them, I lived.
It feels almost like I am writing one of those old school essays: What I Did on My Summer Vacation. Perhaps teachers still assign them. My list is modest, and maybe that is why summer stretched so long. There was space. And space is its own kind of abundance.
Tomorrow, I return. To work. To closed-in shoes and cafeteria routines. To beef burgers, pizza, chicken fingers. To the steady rhythm of service.
And yet, as autumn opens before me, I feel anticipation more than loss. This has always been my favourite season. The nostalgia of new notebooks and sharpened pencils. The comfort of sweaters—my truest companions. The farmer’s markets brimming with promise, baskets filled for canning and pies. A season that insists on gratitude, on gathering, on giving thanks. Though gratitude should not be seasonal, autumn reminds me to practice it more deeply.
I think of the girl I once was, walking home from school, scattering leaves with each step, delighting in the sound of their crisp surrender underfoot. That memory lives in me still, bright as the turning trees.
And so I move forward, season into season. Not with sadness, but with thankfulness for the gifts of what has been, and with a heart open to what is yet to come.
The Blessing of Doing…well…Nothing
The last day of July. I don’t want it to end. I mean….I LOVE August…but I don’t want August to end so I don’t want it to begin. I want to stay right here in July relishing the anticipation of August. June 30. The summer was so full of promise and expectation. The excitement of slower days and slower living. the opportunity to lollygag my way through a couple of months. And lollygag, I’ve done. Well except for the two bakery days I held in my front yard. July 1 and July 31. When I hatched this idea in the spring I thought I would do it every week. HA. Jokes on me. It’s a lot more work than I thought. Maybe I’m doing it the wrong way? or maybe I just realized I didn’t want to spend my entire summer vacation working. Once again I am blessed to be working at a school and have the summer off. Of course all my friends joke (even my colleagues) about my pretend job. 13 hours a week. But hey, it really takes up 3 days of my week. So I have a super long weekend every week but the days I do work I consider work days and usually don’t get much else done on those days due to exhaustion. And I certainly don’t want to spend the summer working more than I do during the year. All that to say…..I’m as light headed as a school kid when summer vacation rolls around.
I was anticipating a stay-cation but serendipity had me on a plane East to visit, bond and discuss health issues with my siblings and that was good use of 11 days of July. My garden has turned into a tropical rain forest aka jungle and I love it. With the added initiative of adult children living at home it was set in motion and now I nurture it. Adult kids don’t have time to water plants. But I do. I can’t wait to get up in the morning and take a little meander in my secret garden. See what has sprouted overnight. Deadhead things to keep them fresh looking. ooh and awe over the variety and the colors. I can see clearly in my mind the stark emptiness of winter in the backyard and am totally astounded at the evolution to green that takes place. A tropical paradise. So some afternoons I just sit out there with a cool beverage and slide off my sandals so my toes can commune with the grass (I think it’s called grounding these days). The sound of the aspen leaves swaying in the breeze is a pleasant lullaby to fall asleep to. It’s all fun and games until a wasp starts hovering. Back in the house for me. I have plenty to do inside Paint. Read. Write. Stitch. Knit. Bake. Cook. or lazy in my favorite comfy chair and play with my phone (which happens more often than not). I’m not apologizing. I’m on summer vacation.
July has not disappointed. And now comes ‘even slower living’ August. I have plans. Plans to do as much of nothing as I can. Since I am considered a senior now….I can slow down and get away with it. No one expects too much of me (except myself). If I could just get her off my back, I’d be free as a bird. Sometimes I feel guilty lounging in bed while my husband is getting ready for work …but not too often. Why spoil a good summer feeling guilty? I still keep the house clean (sort of) and do the laundry and buy the food and sometimes I even cook it. Water the plants. Walk the dog. And find things for people. I have four other adults living here and no one can find anything. Am I right?
Often I look around and wonder….what am I doing with all this stuff but now is not the time to figure out what I am going to do about it. No siree. I am not planning on spending August purging and organizing. There will be plenty of time in the fall for that. And maybe I’ll still think of a way to get out of it. The great thing about procrastination is that you never have anything to do today and you always have something to do tomorrow. So I’m going now to spend my last evening of July lapping up the spirit of relaxation and vacation so that I am fully prepared for doing nothing in August.
The Beginning and The End and all the in Between
This week, I found myself attending both a baby shower and a funeral—two events that could not be more different, yet each deeply sacred in its own right. One welcomed a brand-new life, full of promise and possibility. The other honored a life unexpectedly cut short, but beautifully and fully lived. The circle of life, laid out plainly before me.
At the shower, the mother-to-be was wrapped in joy and generosity, love given in bundles, hopes whispered in every gift and every embrace. At the funeral, the room overflowed with people who had been touched by the woman we lost—testimonies of her strength, her laughter, her steady care. Both gatherings were celebrations. One of beginnings. One of endings. Both, unmistakably, about love.
I almost didn’t attend either event. Life’s demands made it difficult. But I’m so glad I went. It is always worth showing up for the moments that mark our lives and the lives of those we love. To bear witness. To offer presence. To be part of the blessing. What a gift it was to hold both joy and sorrow in the same breath. To feel the weight of our shared humanity. To hug people—not in passing, but with intention. To say, “You matter.”
Both rooms were full. Full of people who showed up. A reminder that we are not meant to do life alone. We need each other in the celebration and in the grief. In the beginning and at the end.
At the baby shower, I was taken back to the days I carried my own children—those long months of wonder and worry. What would they be like? How could I keep them safe? How would I prepare them for this wild and beautiful life? Children are a gift from God, His reward, and what a magnificent reward they are. Raising my two was the greatest joy I’ve known. It still is, even though the raising is done. The parenting never really ends.
At the funeral, I listened to the daughters of my husband’s beloved relative speak with such love, respect, and admiration. Their mother had clearly loved them well. She lived with faith, compassion, and courage. Her life was not perfect, but it was impactful. Her legacy was evident in their tears, in their words, in their strength.
And as I sat there, in both places, I couldn’t help but ask myself: Am I living the life I want to be remembered for? Will those I love feel the impact of my love when I’m no longer here to give it? Will they have words of gratitude or simply silence? What kind of legacy am I leaving in the in-between?
Because that’s what it all comes down to—the in-between. The space between our first breath and our last. That’s where the meaning is. That’s where we love and forgive and try and fail and get back up again. That’s where we build a life that speaks for itself long after we’re gone.
And we don’t get to know how much time we have. So we must choose now. Choose to live with intention. Choose to love well. Choose to show up—for the joy and the sorrow. For the baby showers and the funerals. For each other.
Because in the end, that’s what matters most. That we loved. That we were loved. And that we didn’t walk through it all alone.
At the Stroke of Midday
It’s been a week. I’m not talking about time frame. I mean….Its…been…a week!!!
We brought mother home from the hospital today almost to the hour of the ambulance picking her up and pulling away 7 days ago. One just never knows what life is going to throw at you: my sister, Natalie ,here for a visit from Toronto. Me trying to have a rejuvenating spring break before going back to school for the final stretch before summer. And mom just minding her own 93 year old business and visit with her second favorite daughter. All of a sudden she’s slurring her speech and talking like a drunken sailor.. Actually aside from the seriousness of a stroke, listening to her talk was quite comical. Mostly because there is no way on earth my mother would ever drink too much let alone drink hard liquor.
Anyways, we called an ambulance and that’s how mom ended up at the Foothills hospital for a week. She wasn’t in the stroke ward but Foothills IS the stroke hospital. I joined Natalie in emergency Monday night since she rode in the ambulance with mom and I had to find my own way there. Later that evening they moved mom up to a bed in a ward after her CT scan. Mom had just turned 93 the day before. Happy birthday.! Finally they came and got her for an MRI so we kissed her goodnight with the promise of being back in the morning
.
True to our promise we arrived every morning at around 10 with books, magazine’s, flowers, snacks (for us)…. phone chargers. We took a lot of FaceTime calls over the week much to the chagrin of her roommates. Sorry.
We brought tea every day and baking that I kept pulling out of my freezer. Banana bread, date squares, birthday cake…we had a tea party complete with lace tablecloth, real tea cups, homemade macarons, Madeline’s, and salmon sandwiches, crackers, pickles and cheese on Natalie’s birthday which happened mid week. I made fresh scones for our final tea party. I mean we had to have something to do. To keep mom’s spirits up. Every day she asked if she was going home today….and we shook our weary heads side to side like broken bobble heads. .Why am I in here, she kept asking. What happened to me? Am I going to be stupid now? Will I recover? We had no answers so we just poured her another cup of tea. Read to her. Instigated FaceTime calls.
Let me say at this point how eternally grateful I was that my sister was here. My sister… so gracious. So compassionate. So calm. So thoughtful. So ‘in charge’. She was a pillar for both mom and I…. As I kept having flashbacks of my own experiences in the stroke ward. And she added two weeks to her departure date to be with mom at home.
I, regrettably, do not have those characteristics. I’m working on them. Philippians 3:12. While Natalie was adjusting mom’s blankets and putting more sweaters on her shivering body, escorting her to the loo, and combing her hair and extracting her food from the sealed containers…. I was drawing pictures on the hospital’s whiteboard, pouring us tea and reading magazines. Monday night we all find ourselves exhaustified and relieved to be out of the hospital.
I actually felt bad leaving Shirley behind. Shirley was one of mom’s roommates that had been there all week and is still there. She was in the bed across from mom’s feet. She watched us with fascination and astonishment that we were there everyday with a party. She talked to us and lent us her extra chair, queried about how Natalie’s hair was a different color and length each day. She was usually in a lot of pain. Lying in her bed with pain killers. Natalie and I took Saturday off from coming to the hospital because, frankly, we were too tired to drive again. We arranged for one of moms friends to come instead. And Shirley told mom she missed us! She only had two visitors Friday afternoon the rest of the time she was alone.
Mom’s first kitty corner roommate was a very old Asian man that tried to escape more than once. He put all his clothes on and headed down the hall dragging his colostomy back behind him on the floor. When they brought him back to his room… he started yelling. Is this a prison? I thought it was a hospital. The nurse tried to explain to him it was for his own safety and then he yelled… you mean I’m not safe here. Hard not to Laugh out loud.
The doctor told us to go home and get mom’s apartment ready for her return home. So naturally…. We redecorated. I’m not sure that’s what the doctor had in mind but what’s done is done. We DID buy a bathtub assist chair, a bar to pull herself out of bed and a cane. And now she’s home with very few deficiencies. But a high risk factor. That’s why we have siblings lined up to fly in to be with her for the next 6 weeks. While we figure out how mom needs to proceed in the future. Of course mom thinks we are overreacting but we have decided to proceed with an abundance of caution. Did I mention she’s 93 and has outlived most of our relatives? She’s very feisty (a substitute word for stubborn.. lol). If she doesn’t want to be sick… she’s not gonna be.
We’ll not soon forget this weird, scary, memorable week.
Don’t Shrink Back!
I told a few people, just this week, that I think that life is just getting too much for me. I was actually unloading finally and admitting defeat. I’ve been keeping a low profile and staying away from stress because I just can’t deal with it these days. So many things just seem too overwhelming. I am sure I have PTSD over a few happenings. And just felt like, at 67…I’m done. I guess that’s it for me. I am still going to my 13 hour a week job but that seems to be my outer limit. Nothing else. I mean what happened to 65 being the new 50?
Driving takes it all out of me. I can drive. I know how to drive. I know my way around the city and I’ve never shied away from freeways or long distances but lately….it all seems too much,. Especially with the winter weather. I am terrified of snow and ice on the roads. I’ve made detours through residential areas where I can drive 30 klicks because I am in school and playground zones….just to get to work. And that’s in daylight. Forget about under the cover of darkness. I get disoriented. And then there[‘s the boogie man….
I’ve said no to all extracurricular side hustles involving baking and sewing and anything. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t want people counting on me for anything in case I have to let them down. I want to be able to come home from work and do nothing if I want and not feel guilty because I should be baking so and so’s cake or fixing so and so’s dress or recovering someone’s couch etc. I just can’t deal.
Even walking around the neighborhood this summer freaked me out sometimes. I got my steps in close to home. If it was too windy I started feeling dizzy and unbalanced. If it was too bright it seemed to affect my vision. I didn’t even want to be responsible for the dog but I couldn’t get anyone to understand that so I took the pooch with me but I always had my phone handy.
I feel safest when I am lying in my bed at night. Barring a sink hole underneath the house….. I am usually trying to make up a reason to go to bed at 6:30pm because I am done with the day. But of course, I can’t or I’d be up at 3 a.m. ready to start the next day. When I’m all warm and snug in my bed at night I breathe a sigh of relief and thanksgiving that I made it through the day without incident and then pray I wake up in the morning.
Pathetic. I know. The point of this dismal disclosure is this. I was doing my One minute pause this morning (John Eldredge app) and I actually do the 17 minute pause because there’s no talking in the background. It’s a meditation practice to make it easier to spend time in His presence. I have found it to be very comforting and helpful. I desperately need to spend time in His presence just giving everything and everyone to Him. This morning I decided to not say anything and not pray anything…there seems to always be something going on in my head but I tried to just not think about anything and instead I asked God to speak to me. I just said…I am just going to sit here and listen and I hope you will speak to me about something. A few seconds later I started remembering the ‘crisis’ in my life that I have made it through…victoriously. Experiences that I thought would literally do me in…but here I still am. Then I started to remember crazy, fun occasions that I had planned for my family members and friends. I remembered the showers I hosted. I remembered family reunions I had planned. I remembered trips I had made happen. I remembered Christmases I had organized. I remembered my successful baking business I ran for 7 years. I remembered the dessert buffets I had set up for fundraisers and friends. I remembered the 35 dozen butter tarts and 70 pies I had been commissioned to make for someone’s celebration of life. I remembered some of the vacations I had been on in tropical settings. The Bible studies and prayer groups I had set in motion during my post Bible college years. The craft sales I hosted in my home. The clothes I had sewn for people The cards I had made and posted to encourage friends and family. The many crazy ideas I’ve had that my friends said…you’re insane that will never work but ….usually did. Then I was reminded how bold I have been in fashion and decor. Breaking all the rules and just doing my own thing. Having fun. Not that that helped anyone but it was just a statement that I used to be bold and crazy and up for almost anything. I used to invite people over for teas and dinner and parties….and go all out to make people feel blessed because I loved doing it. It was a lot of work but I thrived on it. These are the things that fed my soul. The jobs I’ve held and faked my way through. Being an office manager and executive assistant with no formal training.
I mean I have always been a more cautious person in many ways. not wanting to break rules. Being compliant to authority. Being responsible. I’ve always considered the consequences of my own actions. And I have always had an element of fear sitting on the back burner. Usually just enough to keep me out of trouble. But lately it seems to have turned into a fire breathing dragon. And has paralyzed me.
Then I heard the words, this morning….clear as day…after I asked God to say something to me and He reminded me of all the above….. DON’T SHRINK BACK. Don’t Shrink Back Now. Then the verse from Isaiah 43 “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you….Then Isaiah 40:31 “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall rise up on wings as eagles. They shall run and not get weary, they shall walk and not faint….
Don’t Shrink Back Now.
Our pastor used to always say at the end of his sermons. What is God saying to you? and What are you going to do about it? Two very important questions.
I know what God is saying to me….now I just have to figure out what I am going to do about it. Joshua 1:9 Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go”.
Beware the Oodie
Beware the Oodie. No it’s not a sea monster. Not the Sasquatch. Not a zombie. Not a ghost. The Oodie is basically a blanket you wear. It has sleeves and a hood and a kangaroo pocket. Made of fleece. Lined with fleece. Comes in very many cute motives. Coffee,. Avocados. Sweettarts. Pizza. Space. Harry Potter etc. But….I think it is made for people that have absolutely no life. Because that’s what happens when you put it on. You become the laziest person on the planet. It’s too bulky to do anything in. You can’t cook in it. You can’t vacuum in it. You can’t iron clothes in it. You can’t sew in it. You’d never paint in it. You definitely cannot garden in it. It’s the quintessential outfit for being sick. You put it on and then find a comfortable chair to flake out in and that is where you’ll stay. You won’t even want to move. I sat there in my oodie thirsty for hours because I couldn’t bear to move. I pulled that fleecy hood up around my phlegm-filled head and stuffed the kangaroo pockets with tissues and lay there in a coma for days. LOL. I did have to take it off to go to bed because it’s too warm and bulky to sleep in comfortably…laying down. Easy to sleep while sitting in a chair. It is very dangerous to put it on when you come home from work. It feels SO good but forget about accomplishing anything that evening. Maybe you need to do some of your todo list first and then put on the oodie. It’s like a superhero outfit. Well actually it’s the opposite of a superhero outfit. First off there is no room in a phone booth to change into it. But in reality you turn into someone with very lame powers or virtually no power at all. Once on, the fleece consumes you and you give into it. You’re helpless against its lazy power. Its comfy power. Its procrastination power. Once again you are inside the womb. It does give a sense of false security. It feels safe. But is it really? All that fleece is probably highly inflammable. But, I digress….Don’t get me wrong. I love this thing. This hoodie. This sack of warmth and joy and comfort. It’s just very dangerous for anyone with any ambitions at all. I’m not putting it on tonight because I have things to do. But maybe this weekend when the temperature plummets and the fireplace is lit and there’s a good stack of books and magazines within arms reach. And the remote control… And maybe a drink and a snack….
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JANUARY
For so many of us living in the Northern hemisphere – the far northern hemisphere – January is a month that most wish didn’t exist. That it wasn’t even on the calendar. Some folks flee the country for warmer places to live out the winter. Those cold dark months of overdressing and treacherous driving and snow shovelling behind them. Yes, the days are short which actually creates a mindset of not getting much done because we don’t have much daylight but….there are still 24 hours in the day. Don’t be fooled by illusions. Some just want to hibernate…let’s just endure until it’s over. But we are wasting valuable time people. Life is short, let’s not just wish certain months away. What if we had a paradigm shift and started seeing and using January as a month of opportunity. There are so many months that are too busy to do the things we dream of and love. We are just go go going and we feel jipped that we don’t get to do things we want to do. Let’s use January for that. I mean, if your dream is to visit the Caribbean then I guess January is your month. But for those of us that don’t have that option…better to change our mindset than whine and complain. It is what it is. January can be a month for enjoying slow living. Catching up on our reading. Engaging in our indoor hobbies. For someone like me…I can knit and paint and write and sew. I can cook my way through a new cookbook and discover some cozy new recipes. I can send out New Years cards (that were originally supposed to be Christmas cards). Actually it would be great if Christmas was at the end of January. We’d have all that extra time to get ready and to enjoy the season. And the bleak midwinter would pass by quicker. Who says we can’t just enjoy the season anyway? I’m taking my real Christmas tree down to avoid a fire hazard but I am just going to enjoy the seasonal decor a while longer. The garlands and the mini lights. The reds and the greens. The hygge. There are no Christmas police. But if you really want to get it down, then this is a great month for cleaning, purging and organizing. A great month for construction or renovating. A great month to rearrange the furniture or redecorate with what you already have. Get creative. If you’re an outdoor enthusiast then go skating and skiing and cross country skiing and come home to enjoy a nice warm stew, a hot bath, a nap by the fire. January, as we all know, is a great month for reflection and implementing change. To spend time deep thinking and planning and goal setting. It’s not a month to endure. It’s valuable time and lets make the most of it. And while you’re at it….do the same in February. Before you know it will be spring and time to start thinking about the garden and the cottage and longer days and warmer weather. I actually love that I live in a place that has seasons but that’s a blog for another day.
And she Pondered all these things in her Heart.
So it’s the New Year and I’ve been contemplating what I will do differently this year. I have to do something different. The definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results. And I’m certainly not insane! Or am I?
I thought about quitting ironing my sheets so I would change them more often but I can’t quit ironing my sheets, I went out and bought all 100% cotton so I would have to iron them and I would feel like I’m staying at a hotel (for the first couple of nights anyway). I was thinking I should clean my bathrooms more often. Oh how I hate cleaning bathrooms. That’s how I know I definitely do NOT need a larger house even though I lust after gorgeous mansions in better neighborhoods. But It would be filthy. So scrap that. I should quit taking my iphone to the bathroom. I spend far too much time there. TMI however the amount of people I KNOW who have dropped their phones in the toilet tells me this is more common than people would like to let on. I should quit putting my iphone within arms reach of my bed too. I’ve got to break that addiction. I should quit buying overpriced drinks at my favorite coffee shop. Why is it my favorite coffee shop anyway? I don’t even drink coffee. I need to quit procrastinating with chores. When I actually do them, I’m usually finished quicker than I anticipated and there is such a sense of satisfaction. I blame it on my low level ADD (no H because I am not in the hyper category)…sometimes I wonder if it actually is higher than low level. Self diagnosis from reading a ton of books on the subject. I don’t drive in the dark anymore….I don’t think I am going to change that. I just really don’t like driving in the dark. I get lost sometimes. No I don’t have alzheimers but I DO have brain damage. Hopefully they are not exactly the same thing. I also don’t care to drive in the snow or the rain or when the suns shining. I need a chauffer. I should stop subconsciously doing dishes. I go to the kitchen for a drink and I start doing dishes and I don’t even know I’m doing them. My kids say….we are planning on doing those when we are finished eating. I should quit prying the plates out of their hands while they are scoopng their last bites. I should quit vacuuming so much. The vacuum cleaner terrorizes the dog. But I have black rugs and dark hardwood and cannot stand to see the crumbs and threads and so I vacuum. (Not the same as cleaning the house). Vacuuming is an obsession. I have a visual OCD. Things need to look neat at all times – not necessarily clean. There is a difference. There are days my home looks nice and tidy – everything in its place – but it could be condemned as a health hazard in reality. I really need to quit buying T-towels and puzzles and cookbooks. And coffee mugs. Did I mention I don’t even drink coffee? I need to stop saving every birthday, greeting, christmas and anniversary card anyone in the house has ever received? What’s that all about? I did not buy any after Christmas ‘on sale Christmas decorations’ this year as I didn’t use half of what I already have. In fact, a week before Christmas I sent my husband to goodwill with 2 or 3 bins of Christmas stuff I never need to use again. Not to get too proud of myself….I have a long way to go. I should quit coming home from work and plopping myself in my favorite vegetative state chair because once I do that…I may as well go to bed…nothings getting done that night. Very often I will pull into the garage and have a nap in the car….at least I have to get out of the car and into the house so that breaks my comatose state and I can go on to do things. AND I should stop binge watching Netflix and quit being bored. It’s a state of mind. I have oodles of interesting and productive things to do. Oh my gosh….Pinterest. Lexie came home from London when she was in WYAM a million years ago and said “mom, I’ve found a great new way for you to waste time”. She wasn’t wrong. I blame her.
Some things I should do. I should finish knitting my sweater ( I took up knitting last year) . I only have half a sleeve to go. And then start the next sweater which I already bought the wool for. I should finish my Cathedral windows quilt and hang it on the wall. I should finish all my quilts and do something gratuitous with them. I should spend more time reading. More time reading means more inspiration for writing and I DO need to get my book written while I still have the brain power. I AM going to purge AGAIN. Purging is my life. The more stuff you own the more time to spend purging, cleaning, organizing, stashing – it’s stressful. I look at all these craft supplies and fabric and while it used to get me excited and inspired…now I just get tired looking at them. I really do want to simplify. I need to get rid of clothes. I don’t buy clothes because I need them or the old ones wore out. I buy them because I think “This will make me look cool”. But really…do they? They just make me look like an old lady pretending to be Taylor Swift so that has to stop. I only have so many places to go to wear clothes because when I’m at home I am usually wearing PJ’s or hoodies and leggings. I don’t have an office job anymore so ….get with the program. I save old clothes because I think I will remodel them. Where do I think I am going to wear them….to the basement to binge watch Netflix? And of course I have a full range of sizes because my weight…. errr… fluctuates. Then there is my walking pad that I received as a Christmas gift. Got to get on a regular walking program to keep myself alive. I call it “walk for life”. I should and must go off sugar. Unfortunately there’s no Betty Ford clinic for that. But seriously….. how hard could it be? Rolling on the floor laughing. I’ve always wanted to read the Bible in a year…..I mean just bite the bullet already and do it. That could be transformative. Even if it takes me two years to read the Bible in a year… I should do it. It’s not going to be harmful.
I don’t call these ‘resolutions’ because that sounds like a recipe for failure. I like to think of them as wise suggestions. Self care. Free therapy.
And she pondered all these things in her heart.
OY VEY
I don’t know about you but I go back and reread my journals sometimes. A practice I think I’m going to quit. It seems as I read them….I am still stuck in the same place. And I think…what is the matter with you woman? Why have you not moved on yet? Why have you not conquered these things? Why are you still in the same place? Like the Israelites in the desert for 40 years. Why were they still in the desert when it was supposed to be an 11 day trip? Well….It was their own fault. AND maybe God needed to teach them a few things? Ya think?
Maybe He needs to teach me a few things and I am just being totally lazy and dumb. I don’t want to be in the desert forever….eating manna and parched. Rubbing the sand out of my eyes and nursing cracks in my heels. I’d really rather be in the lush promised land of milk and honey and water falls and fresh fruit. Walking through the lush grass in my barefeet. Having learned all the lessons of wisdom and bravery. That’s where HE wants me to be. But for some reason, I’m lollygagging. Is it because I’m having so much fun in the desert? A resounding ‘no’. Oh, its had its moments…just like the Israelites…they had some ups…just enough to keep them going and thirsting for more of God’s provision and protection. But they were easily distracted and disillusioned. And I guess I get that way too. We live in the present circumstances and try to do what we can on our own to improve things and fail…when we could be keeping our eyes on Him instead and trusting Him because he is everything we need and want. And yet…..we keep taking our eyes off Him and thinking somehow we can do things better ourselves. Well at least, that’s what I tend to do. Why do I have SO much confidence in myself when I keep failing and messing things up? It’s not because it’s so much fun. I’ve got to give my head a shake.
So…this year I am determined to ‘get it’. At least better than I have been. I am old enough to have gleaned more wisdom. Maybe that IS why I am inspired to go back and read old journals so I can be aware that I need to make more progress. I know there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus…but hello? Everything we do down here matters for eternity and I am now closer to the end than I am to the beginning. I can’t waste anymore time. Then again, maybe the things I want to achieve and accomplish and overcome are not the same things on God’s list for me. Maybe those are my ‘ things’ My hang ups and maybe that’s not where I am supposed to concentrate my efforts. Maybe those things aren’t important in the big scale of things. And God doesn’t want me getting tripped up by those self imposed ‘goals’. It doesn’t do any good to make it to the top of the ladder only to find out its leaning on the wrong wall.
So I guess this year I’ll ask God what HE wants me to do. What He wants me to focus on. What He wants me to conquer. I’ll ask for His guidance and His help and His provision and listen for His voice. So before I make that New Years list, I am going to do a lot of praying and listening and hope that the words and goals that come out of my pen are His…for me. Not that I haven’t prayed about this before….but I usually pray that God will help me accomplish MY goals. I’ve prayed that He would get me to where I want to be in life. So this year….I will ask what He wants me to do and where He wants me to be and for Him to help me do His will for my life.
What can I say? I’m a slow learner. I’m an Israelite. That’s why that story is in the Bible. And I’ve often wondered how they could be so stupid. Oy Vey
Merry and Bright
As I was listening to Roger Whitaker soulfully croon White Christmas the other day the words ‘Merry and Bright’ stood out to me for the first time. I’ve noticed Merry and Bright on everything these past few years. Sweatshirts, coffee mugs, cushion covers, ornaments. And I thought it was just a kitschy new commercialized slogan to make money. (Or course, it actually is ).
But Roger sang that song like a prayer and as he was casting a blessing on the listeners, he sings ‘May your days be merry and bright’. We’ve sung those words a million times. Bing and Dean and Perry and Mel and Ella and Frank and Michael but they’ve never really pulled on the heart strings until I heard Roger’s sincerity sing them.
May your days be Merry and Bright and may all your Christmases be white. I’m signing my Christmas cards with those words now that the postal strike is over. Having a white Christmas is obviously the quintessential Christmas wish. Christmases are supposed to be white. That’s the standard. Amy Grant sings ‘I know there’s more snow up in Colorado than my roof will ever see but a tender Tennessee Christmas is the only Christmas for me’. That may be so but seriously, is there anything that makes one’s heart leap for joy more than when it starts snowing on Christmas Eve? And you wake up Christmas morning to a pristine blanket of white over the earth. (At least on the earth in your vision.)
I mean, my sister who lives in New Zealand, tries to tell me there’s nothing better than spending Christmas on the beach with the sand and the waves and a BBQ’d turkey but I’m not buying what she’s selling. This scenario definitely can find a place in my life. By all means…. But not at Christmas.
May your days be Merry and Bright and May all your Christmases be white. Truly.
The Red Plaid Apron 
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