When The Rubber Meets The Road

The other day I saw this quote “May your life preach more loudly than your lips.” by William Ellery Channing. It made me think about how my life is perceived by others, especially when I’m walking through some kind of a challenge, walking through a valley so to speak. The last two and half weeks on the couch weren’t some of my best moments. I’d like to be able to say that I was sweet tempered, patient, and maintained a very positive attitude day in and day out, but that just isn’t the case. However, after seeing that quote I did feel convicted.

It’s so easy to drop catch phrases when trying to comfort friends and family when life’s road gets rough. It’s another thing to live those words when things turn personal. I think back on all the times I’ve advised others to “trust the Lord and His timing” or “make the most of this time to do something you might not otherwise have done” or “it’s up to you whether or not you have a good day or a bad day, you decide which way it’s going to be” (my kids heard that one a lot). As one day on the couch stretched into another, I lost motivation to really do anything productive, wondered what in the world the Lord was trying to teach me with all this down time, and mostly didn’t feel like making the right decisions regarding my attitude. Thankfully, Channing’s nine little words pushed me to reconsider living my own advice to others and start making my couch moments matter.

I’m happy to say that I do believe God has a plan and purpose for my life, and his timing is perfect. I have had some remarkable time to visit with friends (even get to know some much better for having the extra moments together) and been blessed to catch up on some correspondence to others who are facing far worse challenges than I am. As far as using the time to do something productive, thanks to our dear friend Chuck Wasson, I have enjoyed a great deal of time on a new application that he introduced to me for my I Pad, and it looks like the illustrations for another one of my children’s books are almost ready to put into print form. Perhaps most importantly, I can honestly say that attitude is everything when it comes to outlook and enjoying peace and joy each day, I’m glad that I turned mine around.

The bottom line is I’m thankful for the opportunity for personal growth this broken foot has afforded. I feel like I’ve learned a valuable lesson and next time I experience a challenging time (and I know I will) I will respond better. Hopefully in the future when the rubber meets the road, I will quickly demonstrate my faith in the hard places. For now though, I’m glad my days in community theater are over, I don’t think I could handle anyone telling me “to break a leg!”

I’ll let you know when the book is available!

This boot was made for walking . . . and that's just what I'll do!

Helping Hands!

“I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again.” ~William Penn

In the last week, I’ve gone from a wonderful two day getaway with my husband to eight straight days lying on the couch or bed with a broken foot. One minute I was running out the front door, the next minute I was lying in a heap on the front porch, having tripped over a poorly placed pair of sneakers. Life is just so unpredictable. Needless to say, with doctor’s orders to keep my foot elevated and not bear ANY weight on it, or face possible surgery, I’m doing my best to closely adhere to doctor’s orders and behave myself.

It might take a village to raise a child, but I’ve decided it also takes a village to care for a couch bound, middle-aged woman with a broken foot. Many hands have made these last eight days so much easier. I’ve been overwhelmed by the kindness of so many. The first hands that came to my aid were my daughter Ellie’s. I was literally lifted to my feet and practically carried to the doctor’s office by those strong, sure, and gentle hands of hers. Those same hands enfolded mine when I burst in to tears upon hearing surgery might be necessary, and continued to clasp mine until Ellie had prayed with me and peace once again reigned in my heart. Ellie’s hands are especially experienced when it comes to dealing with crutches and boot casts, as she was down with a broken foot herself two years ago; I’ve appreciated all her tips.

Of course Bob’s hands have prepared meals, done laundry, carried my crutches up and down the steps (while I lifted myself up or down step by step on my derriere), made sure everything was within arm’s reach before leaving for work, helped me in and out of the bathtub, (as have Ellie’s) and gently massaged all the other places that let me know the fall hadn’t just injured my foot.

Jean has been there over and over to care for me, and she has delivered several lovely breakfasts in bed to me, her loving hands have ministered in many ways. Steph has called every day, and kept me busy with lively conversation and daily skype sessions with little Aubree. My older granddaughters little hands have all made me cards and called to check on Grammie. My sister Becky and niece Evelyn stepped in to babysit for Aubree and have kept me posted on all her latest antics, so thankful for their willing hands caring for her in my absence while her mom works. Despite working full time, my other sisters have made sure to check in daily and monitor my progress.

Friend’s hands have prepared meals, written and sent lovely cards, and filled my Facebook wall with best wishes and promises of prayers. Neighbor’s hands have brought yummy treats and I’ve enjoyed their visits. My pastor has visited and lifted praying hands on my behalf. I’ve been overwhelmed with all the love and support, all the loving hands that have carried me through when I start to get discouraged.

I am so thankful for my “village”. It’s been a blessing. I am looking forward to being on the giving end of life once more, but in the meantime, thank you all for giving me a hand up.

36 Years and Still Going Strong

April 3, 1976, I married the love of my life, Bob, a laid back, good looking guy with long brown curly hair, a quick smile, a gentle demeanor, and a servant’s heart. We were young, I was 21, he was 23, and we were excited to set up our new home and enjoy life to the fullest. April 3, 2012, I’m still married to the love of my life, Bob, a less laid back, good looking guy with wavy silver hair, a quick smile, gentle demeanor and servant’s heart. We are not so young anymore, but we love our home (the one that’s not so new where we raised our kids) and we still try to enjoy life to the fullest. In honor of these wonderful years together I thought I would post 36 reasons why I would marry my beloved all over again. Hope you enjoy . . .
1. He is funny, after all these years he still makes me laugh.
2. Jeannie
3. Ellie
4. Stephanie
5. He leads our family with a strong faith.
6. He has healing hands.
7. He can really put a great meal on the table, his fresh salmon in wine is fantastic.
8. I love the way he brings me coffee and breakfast in bed weekends.
9. I would have lived with him in a shack, but didn’t have to because he’s a great provider.
10. He can turn an ordinary yard into a beautiful retreat, and he has!
11. He likes to go to the theater with me.
12. Let’s face it, there are advantages to having a husband who is a massage therapist.
13. He never leaves the house in the morning without kissing me.
14. The strong, opinionated women in our family don’t intimidate him.
15. He’s never worn shorts with black knee socks and sandals.
16. Animals like him.
17. He reads people well, much better than me.
18. He loves his family and friends and is there for all of us, always.
19. Despite all my flaws he likes me just the way I am (most of the time).
20. He’s smart.
21. Most of the time he defers to me in the area of home décor, trust me that’s a GOOD thing.
22. It’s nice to share memories with him.
23. To know him is to love him.
24. He runs our business honestly and with great integrity and his dad would be so proud.
25. I loved my mother and father-in-law, they were wonderful people.
26. Can’t think of ANYONE I would rather raise children with or share the joy of grand parenting with.
27. I still get excited when I know he’s on his way home from work.
28. Wouldn’t want to face any medical challenge without him by my side, he’s seen me through some difficult times and made the going easier for me in every case.
29. He’s a very generous person, with his time and his money.
30. He doesn’t snore loudly.
31. Artistically he has a lot of talent in many areas, music and photography to name a couple, and he’s willing to share that talent.
32. Even when the going gets tough, he keeps on going.
33. He’s learned to watch football with me.
34. We are comfortable riding quietly or spending an evening side by side with few words.
35. My life is so much better for having him in it.
36. I love him more each day than the day before.
Happy 36th wedding anniversary Bob, I love you the most, here’s to many more happy years!

The Right Place at the Right Time

Yesterday I woke up to blue skies, pink cherry blossoms, sunshine and gusty March breezes. It was the perfect day for getting a lot of things done around the house (like several mountains of laundry that had piled up during my recent illness) and running some errands. I had my mind full of all that needed to be accomplished and I was looking forward to checking things off the list. I love feeling on top of—and in control of—things. My daughter Jean called goodbye to me as she headed out the door to work, and then it was quiet. I finished up the e-mail I was working on, pushed “send” and then heard the door open. In a flash I realized my day had changed, just that fast, as Jean came up the stairs, tears streaming down her face, having just received shocking and tragic news about a friend.

The piles of laundry faded into oblivion as I folded her in my arms. We talked, we remembered her friend, we marveled that the sun was still shining, the world was still turning, that everything was still the same and yet not. I sat watching my sweet daughter working through grief and silently thanked the Lord for allowing me to be there with her. I realized, once again, that life is fragile and every moment counts. I also was forced to acknowledge a lesson I have been slow in learning: I am most certainly NOT in control.

Yesterday wasn’t the day I had planned, and I’m so glad. It was a day filled with moments that mattered, a day where I was at just the right place, at just the right time, for someone I love. We talked, we had lunch out, we shopped to distract ourselves from the pain, it was a very different day than either of us had expected.

Abraham Lincoln has authored many of my favorite quotes. He shared this thought, “It’s not the years in your life that count; it’s the life in your years.” I heartily agree with wise Abe, we must make our life count, make a difference every day in some small way if we can. I’m hoping I can learn to joyfully and consistently choose compassion over control and love over lists.

The laundry still isn’t done. I had a surprise visit from my sweet little granddaughter Nora today, and who’s going to choose piles of dirty clothes over hugs and kisses from a five year old princess. Not me. I’ll do the laundry tomorrow . . . maybe!

Me and my wonderful daughter Jean.


Sweet little Nora wearing the bunny mask she made at school today.

Take Two Aspirin And Call Me In The Morning

I hate being sick!!!! I’m now through a full three weeks of not feeling well. My brain is fuzzy, my ears are stopped up and making me feel like I’m living under water and my energy level is zip. I’ve seen the doctor, I’ve made sure to get plenty of fluids, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I just have to wait it out now. I’ve also come to the conclusion that no matter how old I get, I still want my mommy when I’m sick. Since my sweet mother has been gone for almost seven years now, I can’t literally see her, but I can still draw on things she taught me and I can still hear her voice giving me advice.

I’m sure, were she here, mom would be telling me, it’s okay to sit back, rest and let the world slide by for a bit. After all, she would remind me, it’s going to keep turning with or without you. Humbling words for someone who loves to feel needed, but true words. Life does go on whether I have my hand in all the pots or not. True rest, is more than just sleeping and sitting quietly, it’s acknowledging the need to kick back and relax physically AND mentally, and giving myself permission to do that. So, here’s a toast to true rest and relaxation.

Mom would also remind me that this is not the end of the world and there are many other people dealing with worse illnesses and problems. In other words, she’d probably tell me to stop whining! She’d be right, I have many friends dealing with very serious illnesses, and some friends dealing with illnesses and conditions that cause them pain and suffering every day with no promise of healing in sight. It’s a great reminder that I don’t have far to look before finding someone whose situation is much worse than mine. It’s also a great reminder to start counting my blessings. That said, my mom would be calling, fussing and worrying over me every day until I was well again.

Finally, just about the time I started feeling like I was never going to feel “normal” again (which is right about now), mom would recount some other time I had felt just the same way and then returned to health. She would become my encourager and that would lift my spirits and get me through another day. Moms really are the best cheerleaders; no one has EVER cheered me on (or up) like my mom.

So, with all that said, I’m just going to rest and watch as the world keeps turning, count my blessings (while I pop a cough drop or two), and remember not to take my health for granted once I've shaken this off. Thanks mom for all the great advice, I’m snuggling down now under the old gray quilt you made and wishing we could have one more cup of tea together.

When Jupiter Struts Its Stuff

It’s been a very long week. I’ve finally succumbed to the cold that’s been making its rounds in our family and among our friends. I thought I might beat it, but that just didn’t happen. Add to the cold the renovating of our master bathroom and bedroom, which includes lots of tear-out, dust, and painting and I am one tired, grumpy lady. However, in the midst of everything this week, there were some especially wonderful moments. That’s a blessing I’ve come to appreciate over the years, special moments that seem to pop up just when my spirits need lifting.

A few nights ago, our daughter and son-in-law, Ellie and Steve, and our three oldest granddaughters came for the evening to work on the renovation. Well, Ellie and Steve were working on the renovation. I was enjoying the girls downstairs, far from the noise of the hammer and drill. As the girls and I read some stories and ate some snacks, the sun set and the waxing moon and stars slowly appeared in the darkening sky. Taking a minute to look skyward, the nightscape took my breath away, it was just spectacular. There, framed outside the window, was the waxing crescent moon, just underneath gleamed Jupiter, and just below Jupiter, Venus glowed brightly. As beautiful as it was to look at with the naked eye, I knew that this would be an incredible night to look at this configuration with the little girls through the telescope.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a big deal, but one of the worst parts of this cold has been the accompanying fatigue. The thought of getting the telescope down the stairs, out the door, and set up for viewing seemed overwhelming. I knew with every second I hesitated the planets were slowly dropping toward the horizon and would soon disappear for another night; if I was going to seize the moment I had to move quickly, and quick isn’t in my vocabulary this week. Would Ellie and Steve be willing to break away from the project (I know how irritating that can be) to make this moment happen? They were willing, and quickly dropped what they were doing, brought the telescope down and helped me set it up. Another spirit-lifter, another blessing I’ve come to appreciate over the years, is when “I” becomes “we” and everything becomes easier in the plural.

With the telescope focused on Jupiter I watched as Steve, Ellie, and each of my granddaughters took in the incredible sight of that shining planet and four of its beautiful moons. The oohing and ahhing, the “Wow, Grammie, that is incredible, that’s really awesome”, the “Let me look again” was all worth it. Jean joined us too, and of course I had to take a turn gazing through the view finder. We all loved Jupiter and its orbs, and Katie was amazed by her first telescope view of the moon and all its craters too. Another spirit-lifter, the enthusiastic, joyful amazement of a child learning, seeing, or experiencing something for the first time, another blessing I’ve come to appreciate over the years, when seeing something through the eyes of a child rejuvenates that same exuberance in me.

So despite the cold, fatigue, and renovating irritations, I’m feeling very blessed. I have incredible kids, willing to drop everything when asked, and while my view through the telescope was spectacular, it was nothing compared with the view through my grandchildren’s eyes; quite a spirit-lifter, and this week, those were some very special moments that mattered.

Author’s note: In case you would like to know more about current sky events and maybe plan some sky watching moments-that-matter of your own, here is a great website to help you in your planning.

http://nightsky.jpl.nasa.gov/planner.cfm

Walking Toward the Cross

I know that it’s only February, but yesterday while driving I saw a whole hillside of daffodils in full bloom along the highway. Last week on my walk, a flock of robins were chirping and hopping all over a neighbor’s yard, and today the thermometer is sitting on 60 degrees with the weather forecasters predicting temps on or near 70 tomorrow. Normally, February seems long, dark, and cold to me, but this year, spring seems to be showing itself a little early, and I love it. I’m thinking early spring is a great way to celebrate leap year! But, is it a tease?

Some of Washington, D.C.’s biggest snow falls have occurred late in the winter in February. I for one will never forget waking up to the President’s Day snowfall years ago, not even able to find the car under the mounds of glistening white. The snow was so deep it muffled all the sound; it was so quiet, so pristine and so powerful in its abundance that it was truly breathtaking. However, now that the warmer winds have tickled my cheek and sunny skies have nudged some blossoms open and enticed some feathered friends to return, I am hoping the milder temperatures and snow-free days will continue. But I know that life isn’t predictable.

Today is Ash Wednesday—a special day on the church calendar. It’s the first day of Lent, the season that walks Christians through Christ’s final days. Every year as I walk toward the cross again, I delight in the joyous procession into Jerusalem and then find myself quickly sobered by the betrayal and crucifixion. A lot like February—one day Hosannas and cheering crowds (or daffodils, robins, and warm breezes), the next day the exchange of silver for a life, and the long, painful walk to the Savior’s calling, (like the chilling, late winter snow)—it is unpredictable and powerful.

The truth is, however, whether the warmer weather has come to stay, or the snow is still waiting to surprise us this year, spring will eventually come. Winter will be banished for another year, and the Washington, D.C. area will be an amazing canvas of cherry blossoms, dogwoods, redbuds, and beautiful flowers of every hue. Spring will be resurrected! And that is the beautiful thing about Lent, at the end of the painful road, the story ends with the most famous resurrection of all. I love Lent’s story, it is the one that rewrote my life almost 36 years ago. It is the one that continues to carry me through winter’s darkest days. Lent’s story . . . the hope of resurrection . . . the promise of spring!