The sun streamed across the rumpled  quilt as I reached to silence my annoying alarm, on  this particular Saturday morning in March.  I had forgotten I made a 9:00 appointment until I was setting my alarm the previous night.  I stumbled to the closet to find the easiest most comfortable thing that was ok to wear in public. I decided on the same thing I wore yesterday. I mean who cares? sometimes I just get tired of pretending I’m being followed by the fashion paparazzi for ‘on the street’ fashion.

As I drove the length of  our sun saturated street it became apparent that a glorious day was emerging. It was good to be up at the crack of dawn while most others were still shaking off the fatigue of the past week in deep Saturday morning slumber.  By now I definitely knew this was a Father of the bride morning.

Anything I prefix with “Father of the Bride” fits under the description:  perfectly unperfect, joyful, homey, wholesome, all is well with the world (and my soul). everything is as it should be and that’s a great feeling because it doesn’t happen very often these days.

I drove to the bank to make a withdrawal for some items I needed cash for. It’s always a good day when you go to make a withdrawal and money comes out. How blessed am I ?

As I drove to my appointment, I crested a hill in the road that allowed me to see the entire city skyline in the distance, underlined by rows of rooftops and evergreen trees.  It was a travel postcard sight.  Arriving at my destination, I hopped out of the car to hear, for the first time this spring, birds chirping in chorus.  A ‘glad to be alive’ day for sure.

Following my appointment, I stopped off at the market before returning home for the day.  My plans involved donning my apron and proceeding to to some baking for a birthday party I was hosting the following day.  As I have mentioned before,  one of my favorite pastimes is working in my kitchen. I turned on some music and grabbed a chilled bottle of perrier and proceeded to fire up my Kitchen Aid and get down to some culinary tasks.  As I am methodically enjoying my time in the kitchen, my husband is out in the garage, power washing the floor.  We have one of those epoxy garage floors that cleans up nicely. And while he was at it he decided to clean out the shed and the clean up the back deck as well.

I had such a sense of well being as I considered myself in the house doing women’s work and he outside doing men’s work.  I’m good with that.  I am more than good with that.  In my way of thinking – that’s the way it should be.  Even though I was in and he was out, I felt like we were doing life together and a wave of happiness and joy washed over me.  This has always been what I wanted out of life and here I was experiencing it.  This moment was not lost on me.  Nor do I want any moments like this to be lost on me.

No – everything in life is not perfect…not by a long shot.  But I must remind myself to appreciate and cherish moments and days like these when just for a breeze all is well in my world.

 

 

Alarm buzzes, hit snooze.  Fifteen minutes later alarm buzzes again, hit snooze.  Crack screen on iPhone. Five minutes later jump out of bed in a panicked frenzy because now I am late to get to the gym by 5:30am to work out for an hour and be in the gym shower by 6:30 am to make myself presentable for the day and be at my desk by 7:30am.  Eat my homemade breakfast and make my days TO-DO list.  Proceed to complete the tasks. Lunchtime – eat my homemade lunch and then fight to stay awake for the rest of the afternoon and accomplish anything significant (which is hard to do when your company morale is low due to lack of work and disappearing staff.  Am I next?)  Drive home and choose between many options –  clean house, cook food, clean fridge, mend clothes, iron sheets, do laundry, read, journal, study, paint, sew…OK…spend 3 hours on Pinterest in front of the fire listening to Josh Groban.  (Productivity is overrated.) Pack lunch and gym bag for next day and be in bed by 9:30 latest. Try to sleep through the night without getting up to work out a painful cramp or go to the loo.    REPEAT and REPEAT and Repeat and Repeat and repeat and repeat.

Who remembers the Indian (Native/First Nations) Chief head that showed up after midnight on TV when the days programing was done and you were lying on the couch alone with the glow of this screen (which was white and bright) and the low siren that hummed until you physically got off the couch and turned off the TV and went to bed?   There are days when it feels like that screen is my constant companion. Hummmmmm – Drummmmmmm.

Is this all there is?  How about a nice surprise?  How about a positive deviation?  How about an undeserved break from reality?  How about a vacation?  How about a raise?  How about winning a lottery?  How about no terrorism?  How about I wake up and certain political leaders and contenders are ditch diggers that nobody has ever heard off? How about all my problems dissolving –  leaving me to lounge on a sail boat gazing at the ocean with ombre blue as far as the eye can see, with the heat penetrating my skin and waif-like body while  the rocking of the waves lulls me into a catatonic slumber only to wake periodically to my husband sitting by my side peeling grapes and plopping them into my mouth?  Full, ripe, juicy, sweet, green seedless grapes…..

Some friends leave for their second home in Phoenix and other friends leave for their first home in Hawaii. Mother leaves for New Zealand and brother leaves to follow a diamond trader around the world for a reality show.  Sister leaving for Cinque Terre in a couple of weeks, another friend just left for Israel.  Friends offspring  getting married and having babies continually making them grandparents (never to be seen again in social circles). So and so loses 50 pounds and another so and so writes a best seller.  And the world keeps turning on its axis as I repeat the first paragraph until I can do it in my sleep (and usually do).  I must not walk through this life in a mundane trance.  My life DOES have meaning even if it’s the same old, same old.

To tell you the truth – I rather like the same old, same old.  The familiar, the safe, the routine – I know how to do that.  After 58 years I’ve pretty much got it down pat.  It’s the unexpected – be it good or bad – that throws me off my course.  And then of course there is my thought life. Sometimes I just have to tell it to SHUT-UP!  I’ve often accused my son of being an over thinker because he has the IQ of Albert Einstein. But me, with no IQ at all, still manages to overthink every little think (I mean thing).

Here’s the deal….Even when life seems mundane and boring and repetitive and exhausting and overwhelming, I DO have so much to be grateful for and I actually cherish and treasure this life that has been assigned to me.  Along with the difficult, painful, scary events that have transpired in the past there have been triple the amount of rich, rewarding, fulfilling, meaningful, joyous, miraculous and memorable life experiences that I can revisit when I’m stuck in REPEAT.  And it is in these everyday rote patterns that God speaks to me profoundly and undeservedly.  He shows me that HE is in every little detail of my life and that HE has it all planned out and every moment, every event, every heartache, every joy, every relationship has a purpose and it’s for my good.  Often He has to tone my life way down in order for me to hear His still voice speaking to me and instructing me on what’s next or how to cope and make the most of what’s now.  The lessons and wisdom that I glean in these ‘boring’ moments of life far surpass what I gain in the exciting and easy chapters.

I’m at a place in my life where my job is precarious, finances are a challenge, kids living in another city trying to find their way (life is tough) therefore, constant prayer (which is a good thing), mother needs a new place to live, sleep is elusive and staying healthy is a fulltime job, energy is lower, tolerance isn’t what is used to be, watching the news is well…I just don’t.  But this IS life…the circle of life and really all is as it should be.  God has me right where he wants me – for such a time as this (echoes of Esther). And even when it doesn’t feel like it, He has a purpose for me in this same old, same old Repeat pattern.

And so I continue to love my husband (rather than find fault) and I continue to pray for my kids (rather than interfere) and I continue to be kind to whomever crosses my path (rather than judge) and I continue to be grateful to the Father (rather than complain) and I continue to see the glory in the sunrises and the peace in the sunsets and I continue to walk the narrow, straight , disciplined and purposeful path (rather than chase after the exciting mirage of the world) and I put one foot in front of the other and remind myself to breathe and look up.

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away some women, barely women, girls really, met to cut fabric up into tiny pieces and proceed to sew it all back together again in different configurations. This was our art and we called it ‘quilting’ and we called ourselves ‘the material girls’. We met every Wednesday at one our homes and slepped our sewing machines, buckets of fabric, cutting mats and blades in an attempt to make time to engage in this antique craft of sewing and sisterhood.
Because we were all interested and devoted to this bonding craft (pun intended) we tended to have the same taste in food, décor and clothing. We were all a little bit country and ranchy so we were quite comfortable in our surroundings wherever we were meeting that week. We were home.
Some of us were more creative than others and some of us were more experienced sewers than others, some of us had a better eye for fabric but we all had expertise in some area and we gleaned from each other. We found our common ground in this wholesome practice. We were young enough to have littles that we often dragged along. The hostess would always make something delectable to eat. We were a group of bakers and cooks that loved to feed the 5000. We devoured fresh cinnamon buns, chocolatey brownies, decadent soups and stews, picnic sandwiches, flakey scones with strawberries and cream, quiche, hot chocolate, coffee, tea, hot apple cider. Wednesday was my favorite day of the week. That was another era, another life. A life and a practice that I miss greatly but feel privileged to have been a part of.
By noon, all of our fabrics, scissors, irons and ironing boards, cutting mats, thread, quilting magazines and patterns were strewn across the hostesses’ home. We spread ourselves throughout the kitchen, living room, bedrooms, basement. Wherever we could to find a niche for the day and focus on whatever project we were working on. We oohed and awed over everyone’s glorious new fabrics and patterns. We debated whether to use cotton thread or polyester threads, whether to use cotton batting or fiberfill, whether to use flannel or not (we were definitely a flannel loving group). Our love of flannel surpassed only by our love of plaid. We were stitching love into every quilt that we poured over for months in anticipation of gifting one of our children or siblings or parents. There is just something about making a covering for a loved one. We like to equate ourselves with the Proverbs 31 woman – She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands…. She sets about her work vigorously;… When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet…. She makes coverings for her bed;… We felt dignified and purposeful as we planned projects for the future and engaged in them in the present.
Sitting around the living room stitching or chain piecing we talked about all the problems of the world and our own circle of lives. We encouraged each other, prayed with each other, laughed with each other, we often gave and received sage advice (a couple of our mother’s belonged to the group so they were much like the Titus women of the group). We learned much more than how to sew cute little squares of fabric together to form an artistic design. At about 3:30pm we would all rush off to pick our kids up from school and get home to make dinner for the hubs.
Approximately once a year, we would plan a retreat, a weekend away at someone’s cottage or mountain condo or often,  a quaint little bed and breakfast and we would slepp all of our tools of the trade to this destination and we would quilt from sunrise until the wee hours of the morning. At the end of the weekend we would display our quilts and take pictures of them for posterity. These were wonderful times of sisterhood. Truly. We would usually go for a walk in the middle of the day just to get the blood in our legs flowing again. When we met at someone’s cottage we would all chip in and be responsible for one meal. The food we ate was so delicious and healing – it was definitely a part of the experience. When we met at the bed and breakfast our food was made for us and it was such a decadent treat to have someone else provide us with down home fresh farm cooking and baking.
I remember one such weekend, travelling through a blizzard in subzero temperatures to get to our retreat. We knew what was waiting for us at the other end. Lovely beds made of willow, covered with flannel quilts and garlands of mini lights illuminating the windows so we could lay in bed and watch the falling snow. A large farm table laden with homemade bread, soup and stew and lovely fruit pie for dessert. A heated concrete floor in the workshop area. Ducks to greet us on the path each morning. I happened to be driving my van that particularly stormy weekend and it was no small relief when we finally pulled up in front of the Inn. (I would never make that drive in those conditions now). The next morning none of our cars would start. Not that we needed to go anywhere but we thought we would start them due to the bitter cold. The owner of the Inn got each car going, an added blessing for no extra charge.

The material girls will never let me forget the weekend we drove out to a cottage at Sylvan Lake and I was responsible for breakfast so I brought my bread machine along so we could have fresh cinnamon buns but when it came down to piecing I realized I had left my sewing machine at home. Everyone howled. Luckily there are many aspects to quilting that don’t involve a sewing machine.
The girls like to tease me about my propensity for making quilt tops. That’s as far as I would get. My joy was in choosing the fabrics and getting the design together and the rest of process was just tedious. They suggested I open a store called Toppers for those that don’t feel adequate to make tops but can do the rest of the process. I still have quilt tops buried in Rubbermaids in the basement. To be fair, I taught myself to stipple (a process where you use the sewing machine to meander your quilt together) so I did manage to bring quite a few quilts to fruition.
As life evolved I ended up working in a charming little quilt shop for 6 years. I was in my element. My task was to choose fabrics for Block of the Month quilts. These were quilts that usually had 12 blocks to complete and quilters would order these BOM quilts from all over the globe and I would choose the fabrics and cut out the pieces the size that they would need for that block. Then they would be packaged up and mailed out. The buyer would receive one block each month and at the end of the year she’d have a quilt.  Very often I was the only staff member at the shop on a Monday morning and I would let myself in and wander the shop before customers would arrive and marvel at the racks of gorgeous cotton fabrics and dream about my next project. I wanted to make everything in sight. This phase of my life was such a blessing. I am so glad that it was my experience. Those were simpler days when we weren’t so caught up in social media and the demise of our world.
Another running joke was when one of us was making a quilt as a wedding gift. Inevitably it would be the day of the wedding and the quilt was not finished. So we would give a card explaining that these things take time and its coming. We found a singer who wrote all her songs about quilting. One of her songs was about the imfamous ‘wedding quilt’. It was called ‘It Aint Finished Yet’. Even now, I have a wedding quilt sitting in my studio that I put together for a wedding 10 years ago and it still isn’t finished. I could easily have hand quilted it by now.

I long for those leisurely days of engaging in a craft that was healing and fulfilling. I still have buckets of quilt fabric stashed in my basement. When we last moved, I was wondering if I should get rid of it now that I was immersed in the corporate world but I felt a voice in my spirit telling me to keep the fabric because I would be making good use of it in the future. So I kept it and it’s been calling my name lately.
Those were the days my friend, I wished they’d never end. Since then our kids have grown and dispersed and we have taken on new responsibilities and the days of playing Little House on the Prairie are over as we have entered a season of busyness, stress and exhaustion and we long for a simpler, more wholesome era. I’ve got my memories…. and my quilts.

Well here it is again. Thursday. I do not work on Friday’s (ever). My company’s way of cutting back on expenses. I’m fine with it. In fact, I’ll probably never want to work Friday’s ever again. I have realized there is no point in getting bummed out on Sunday night because tomorrow is Monday because in the blink of an eye it will be Thursday again. My life seems to be passing before my very eyes. Am I dying? Well of course I am but you get the picture.  If there is any good habit you need to implement for 21 days or 6 weeks or 12 weeks or whatever, get doing it right now, today, because that time period is going to pass you by faster than you could get run over by a train and you’ll be on the other end wondering why you didn’t get started sooner? You could have hit your goal by now. Preaching to myself.

This week was especially wonderful because I did not have any obligations in the evenings. I’ve had a full week of just doing anything I want. That rarely happens. I needed it. I didn’t get much done but I did enjoy it. I came home and changed into my lulu’s for comfort (not because I was going to workout) and my uggs for warmth and flopped myself down by the fire with a book and my iPad and then proceeded to doze until Mike came home from work and beyond. It was lovely. No one needing me. No one calling me. No one wanting me to be somewhere.

I was starting to feel guilty for this behavior but I know that everyone needs some self-care and its time I just took care of myself. Not that I’m Florence Nightingale or Mother Theresa by any stretch but I tend to do what’s urgent and expedient. I like to fix situations and rescue people and if anything falls to the bottom of the list – it’s usually whatever only benefits moi.

For whatever reason, I am tired. I am, more often than not, exhausted these days. My soul is weary and it spills over into the physical realm. I noticed it the other night when I literally dragged my wheelie gym suitcase up the stairs to my bedroom at the end of the work day. I could barely get it up the stairs and I had been OK lifting weights at 5:30 in the morning at the company gym but by this time of day it was a mammoth task just to hoist that thing up the stairs, down the hall, through the bedroom and to its final resting place in the middle of the closet floor (where I will inevitably trip on it in the middle of the night as I am walking around working out leg cramps). I was done.

I’ll be honest, last year was a tough year for me. It had its high points but most of it was laborious. I was sick much more than I am used to. I was on meds and going to walkin clinics more than I like to. I gained more weight than I would have liked to. Yeah, I just wanted to gain a little bit….. I was overwhelmed with personal and family hardships that I saw no end to. Things I had been praying about for years, still not resolved. I reread my journals and realized that I was still dealing with the same issues that I had been writing about for seven years. I was dragging. In fact, I am pretty sure I was depressed. Even cleaning my house had lost its joy. Yes – my normal self likes to clean (mainly because I enjoy the results). But my bathrooms would surely be condemned if the city inspectors decided to visit. We’d have to move out so please do not call them.

Last week one of the guys I work for retired. I have never been so jealous of someone retiring. It was weird because I usually feel sorry for retirees because they are SO old and their coming the final chapter of their lives. I surprised myself with this realization. I’m not even close to retirement according to my bank account. Then I attended a retirement session yesterday put on my company’s benefits provider. As I drove home from work I found myself dreaming about the day when I wouldn’t have to get up at 4:30 to get to the gym by 5:30 and be at my desk by 7:30 – rain or shine. OK snap out of it Sleprock! Get a grip…you’re not even 60 yet. lts too soon to start winding down. In fact, I have noticed the Bible doesn’t even speak of retirement. People just worked until they died. They didn’t have these 20 or so years after they quit work to live the high life. These days 60 is the new 40 so I’d better suck it up.

I did make it my goal this year to get in the best health of my life – I wait until I am 59 to do this?? Better late than never. So I made appointments with a naturopath from my husband’s office and also with my regular MD and have been on a steady schedule of Dr. appointments, lab tests, food sensitivity testings, ultrasounds etc. all on my precious Friday’s off, in an attempt to find out exactly what I am dealing with and what my starting point is. My naturopath is healing my gut supposedly and my MD is trying to find out why my liver enzymes are wonky. I am teaching myself to cook and eat healthier – I’m off sugar at the moment (Ok I have cheated a bit) (OK a lot) but my withdrawal symptoms were not pleasant so I decided to slowly ween myself which is dicey business since sugar is more addictive than cocaine, so I’ve read and experienced. And you crave what you feed yourself so if I give into even a tiny smidgen of sugar I will want more. Vicious cycle. I’m attempting to workout 5x a week – I’ve only made it to 3 so far. A consistent 3 but even 5 seems daunting. Once I attain 5, what more can I do? And after I have done all this, the eating clean, the working out, the doctor appointments….I come home and crash for the weekend.

Because I have been feeling like life is just so onerous lately. Like every step is difficult as if I am walking through 3 feet of snow (the scene from War & Peace comes to mind – the one where all the people are trudging through the snow at gun point). Very often I feel like my butt is attached to a chair in the living room as I try to force myself to get up and cook, clean, do laundry, write, workout..whatever. I sigh a lot and Lexie also pointed out that I say “Oh dear” a lot. I mean a lot…’Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear’. That sounds like a defeated existence. I’m trying to change that expression to “All is well” but often I forget. The majority of times I verbalize those words it’s to myself but it’s important how we talk to ourselves and what we tell ourselves. Because, for whatever reason, we tend to believe ourselves. I mean, if we can’t believe ourselves, who can we believe? So we had better tell ourselves the truth.

To be fair, I have been doing a lot of reading and writing and cooking on the weekends. I have found a new author that I love and have bought all 5 of her books and have read them all once and a couple of them twice. She is me 20 years ago. She is my kindred spirit. Everything she says I could have written. All her thoughts – I’ve had them. All her fears and insecurities – yes I can relate. Her philosophy on food and celebration and hospitality – yes, yes, yes. So all of January and February I have been living someone else’s life. Now its time to get back to my own. It’s been fun but my bathrooms need cleaning.

I’ve even been getting lazy in choosing my clothes and decorating my house. I just don’t want the stress anymore. Why is it all of a sudden stressful? I have always loved doing these things. Not that being a fashion queen or a decorating diva is the be all and end all or even what I should be doing but I have always loved these things in the past and been energized by them and now….it just all seems like so much work. Just when I was feeling like I would like someone to take care of me for a change – Mike brings me home a  Starbucks on Saturday as I am sitting at home putzing and then the cleaning fairy showed up and cleaned my bathrooms last night.

I have laid the ground work in January and February to make good on my goals. I have seen the Docs. I have started a regular workout regime. I’ve hosted cooking club to learn new cleaner recipes and continue to experiment on my own. My husband reconfigured my kitchen island so it is one level and has much more prep space or entertaining space. I’ve started a blog – the outlet I will use to get my book written. I read the books for inspiration and I’ve been busy writing and training myself how to do my own stock photography. Now I just have to get back into a regular schedule of domestic engineering, which previously was my forte. Why is it so much more gratifying to read by the fire with a little jazz playing in the background? Or slip out to the local Chapters/Starbucks for a little fix? More Peach Tranquility tea and more reading material.

Now its Monday and it was massive struggle to get to work this morning because of my mind.

And now its Wednesday. Like I said, life flashing before my eyes. As I contemplate what has changed in my life to make me so exhausted and as I read for discovery, it occurs to me that maybe I am exhausted because I am carrying too much. Carrying more than I can bear. More than I was meant to drag through life. I know I have been stressed for sure because I am carrying these burdens that are too big for me – for too long. I hate to admit that because I have always been energetic and efficient. I have always been a person that gets things done. I am not a perfectionist…I’m more about getting it done. Let’s make this happen and let’s not get hung up on perfection. Perfectionism never gets anything done. As I mentioned, I have always been a fixer and a rescuer. Over time I guess that gets exhausting. It’s not even my place to fix everything or rescue everyone but for whatever reason I am compelled to give it my best shot.

As you can see I have been contemplating this in writing for a week now (and in my head for many more weeks previous to that). I am really searching for answers. An example of a situation that stresses me out and drains me is the whole issue of my girth.  I’m going to be very vulnerable here. I have always struggled with my … um… girth and probably will continue to do so. I just have one of those bodies that is not small and tends to like to retain its …er…fat. Fat loves me. What can I say? Lucky me. And my entire life, if I don’t keep on top of my weight EVERY SINGLE DAY OF EVERY SINGLE WEEK OF EVERY SINGLE MONTH any pounds I thought I had lost seem to seek me out again. They just don’t want to leave me. And as long as I am watching every morsel that goes in my mouth and getting up at ungodly hours to beat my body into submission and make it my slave (I’m not a very successful task master) and get my 8 hours of sleep at night which is hard to come by because I stay up late preparing the food that I am supposed to have at the ready so I don’t eat junk then, and only then, can I see any slow progress is shedding my clinically obese poundage. Just going to the grocery store to get this food on the weekend played me out. SO….What are you gonna do? And by you, I mean me.

For some reason, every time I take all this to the Lord in prayer and sit quietly waiting for His answer the verse “Let us not get TIRED of doing what is right” comes to mind. “Let us not get tired of doing what is right for after a while you shall reap a harvest of blessing if you don’t get discouraged and IF you DON’T GIVE UP”. I can still hear Danniebelle’s voice in my head….”Hold on, keep on holding on!” The Lord wants me to hold on and not give up. He also wants me to give everything to Him and quit dragging it around as if I have a better solution than He does. Every concern, every task, every fear, every insecurity, all my confusion, my exhaustion…all of it. He said “His yoke is easy and his burden is light” Why does it feel so hard and heavy? Maybe because I am carrying my own yoke and not HIS. My yoke IS heavy because it is filled with unrealistic expectations and selfishness and pride and greed. Shall I go on? Ahh….now its all starting to make sense.

I also know that the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His names sake. He restoreth my soul.” In the past I have found that when I find myself exhausted it’s usually because I am trying to do everything in my own strength instead of giving it all to God. So often when I have read the story of the Israelites and the Exodus I have thought to myself “How stupid can you people be? After all God has done for you and Moses turns his back for 5 minutes and you are whining and complaining and back to worshipping idols?” I hate to admit this but I see quite of bit of “Israelite” heritage in myself often. After all God has done for me, why am I now trying to live this live as if everything depended on me? Family and friends can attest to the fact that they have often heard me declare “I’m not paying somebody to do that, I can do it myself”, “I’m not asking them to do that for me, I can do it myself”, “I’m not waiting for that to transpire, I will make it happen myself”. This is not a very good character trait for a Christ follower to have. Because I can’t do it all myself nor do I need to. The idea that I can do everything myself stems from pride. Pride cometh before a fall. Any time I am puffed up because of something I think I have accomplished all on my own, a pride adjustment usually follows.

So maybe God is just trying to get my attention again. ‘I can do ALL things through Christ who gives me strength”. I CAN do ALL things if I do them with Christ’s strength. How often I forget that I have that power at my disposal. I usually trudge through life trying to get by on my own. Why would I do that?

I think a time of quiet surrender is in order. Time for some spiritual yoga. A time for unloading and renewing submission. I want to lay down in those green pastures and I want those still waters to be in my line of sight. I want my soul restored because I am confident that my physical being will be restored as well. I still have a lot of life to live and I want to live in HIS strength.

“Let us not get tired of doing what is right, for after a while we shall reap a harvest of blessing, if we don’t get discouraged and if we don’t give up”. Galatians 6:9

I’ll keep you posted.

(Get it?  I’ll keep you POSTed.  Indeed I will.)