Another Day

My handsome son dressed to the nines. 

 Home from college he escorts a dear friend to the Snowball soirée. 

Friday was yesterday 

and tonight we watch 

the Steelers vs Cincinnati in freezing rain.

 And yes, as of January 9 my stockings are still hung on the mantle forgotten. 

And never has creative coloring caused such mayhem and chaos.  

Family together beats family apart. 

Tomorrow's adventures will meet us in due time. 

Enjoying the moment is a blessing galore. 

Found It!

I cannot believe I found my blog. All. By. Myself. 
I have had so much to say. 
and no where to record it.
Real question is, can I find my way back here again. 

Open

It's the being open that matters. Folks will tell you, "God picked you for this tough task because He knows you are strong enough.. Nope, pretty sure not.  God uses the very weakest to pour His strength into. I'm thinking we are not expected to be whole enough to hold or contain His mighty strength; just open to receive it... So if it spills. Leaks. Overflows out the top of my tiny heart. So be it.  I am not solitary. The strength will be used by Him who gave it in whatever, over, into whomever is near. It s ok I can't hold it or carry it all. Being open to receive is the matter of if all. What happens to the Spirit of God as it flows through me is not my worry.

I have shut myself up tight. Avoiding the touch of the Father. avoiding the touch of any who might ask of me more than I feel I am able to give. Because it's true. I am unable. I am weak. But then it's not about me anyway. Is it? Retorhical question.  Jesus wants to use the weak and barely willing to reach and heal and bless and build up the broken. He will use my crawling when I cannot stand to demonstrate none of us are good enough. Strong enough. Only He in us lies the victory. 

A pen. A cup of coffee. In paradise.

I get it now. In had to experience it first hand. For myself. Feel my heart swell. Melt. Explode with joy. Simple. Thank you Ammie. And for what? A pen. A pen to play Tic Tac Toe. With me.. Thank you. Straight from heart. No pretense. And how blessed was I..

And so, that is the secret. The eurcharisto. The lesson I have stumbled. Tripped. Danced. Over and around for two years. Gratitude. Not for the great and the large. But the simple. Honest. From the heart. The hearing of it blessed me beyond the confines of language. I knew it meant love. The deepest act, expression of love. And I was undone. 

So that's it. 

It's what He wants. From me. He will receive my thanks as love. 

All week I had haggled with myself and with Him to hear the revelation I felt, the lesson i was to learn   hear in the sun. It was all about a pen. 

Defeated in paradise. I grappled with my tiger wild. biting. Whining. Defiant. Tongue sticking out. Face making. Disrespectful. Did I mention whining. Tantrum throwing boy cubs. Stunned, I felt helpless to reign them in. Here in the sun all the while home frozen and subarctic, life should be beautiful. 

My heart longed to be able to impart the obvious. Can't you be grateful.  

And while the mediocre coffee gurgled and I grumbled in my heart, longing for a better cup. I saw. I remembered. The pen. The words that followed.  

It was the thanking. The pen. The silly pen. 

It's what He wants. 

The thanking. 

Not the grumbling. 

And He will receive our love. 

And we will have given it. Simply. Purely. 

Loved Him. 

In return. 

We receive. 

Communion with the Creator of the universe. 

The you you are

So

On vacation 

Or anywhere

Gratitude

Grace

Grounded 

Deep

Will follow me

Anywhere 

Vacation

Away.

From what?

To relax. 

Rewind. 

Find....a lost sense of self. 

But

Myself defined by Jesus..

Of course 

Known. 

Yes.

Always embraced?

Evident in my living

Of today

I guess we take ourselves 

With us

When we are 

Away. 

Too Much

My head and heart are full. Full of the things of life. All the stuff to be done. To think about. All that I am not accomplishing. The pressures I place on myself.  Life bangs about in my head like sneakers in a dryer. A heart pounding with too much. 

I KNOW their is abounding Grace...I can't find it. Weariness. Grips. My. Soul. 

It is the KNOWING that keeps me going. Though. Grace lives. Abounds. With or without my knowledge. 

Jesus help me find it. The Living Grace. 

Five Minute Friday: Finish

To finish one must start. The starting can be quite the challenge. But the biggest mountain to ascend is the middle;'so that one can finish. Truly i only have a few short minutes. Sitting in the overcast early morning light of one of my most favorite spots on planet earth, I rush to peck words before the crew rises. My starting dreams soar high, proven by the sewing machine I researched, excitedly bought; my husband snarked that I would never use. I did. For a few weeks. Presently, I have no idea where it has run off and hid. How does one LOSE  a sewing machine? I am sure after weeks, months, maybe more of sitting in the corner of a hallway, my dear friend house-helper got to sick of sweeping around it and found it a home, in the storage room... How many of my hopes and dreams get stashed away in storage? Left alone, waiting for my restless soul yo stir and return?  

How grateful I am for today. It has a beginning and a n end. God created it that way especially for us happy starters but challenged finishers. Worry not about tomorrow for today has enough mini starts and finishes of its own. Breakfast. Loading the dishwasher. Playing. Spanking. Loving. Kids. Dinner. Prayers. Loving on a friend. Kissing boo boos. Feeding the chickens. Enjoying my incredible view from my front porch. Snuggling.  A glass of good wine. All fill the day with joys, a  sorrows. Enough to say I fished today.  And tomorrow I will start anew. One day. One dawn.  One sunset. One day complete. Finished. Praise God. 

Friend for Five Minute Friday

Funny, I was driving home from driving kids to school, after my bi-weekly encounter with exercise, with a trainer, who pushes me, hard; driving home on my way to an over full to do list day, of one entire morning long chore that would leave me pretty well spent. Driving home I was feeling overwhelmed and a bit ragged, ragged on the inside; heart inside, my outsides were still pumped from the physical heart rate rising, weight lifting, cardio challenging, one thing I do purely for me torture. 

On this drive my silly mind wandered to the trials and burdens of my life and I nurtured my downcast spirit. But from the depths God reminded me of my friends. My true life friends, a few women I could call anytime, with ugly confessions, happy mother joys, gut wrenching brokenness, and in these women I would find solace, comfort, encouragement, laughter, a shoulder, open arms, kindred hearts. 

God has brought many amazing ladies into my life. Some I see almost daily. Some not for several years. All of whom I love deeply. Yet God has placed different women friends in different places in my life. Each cemented to a piece of my soul. In my life there are no casual friendships. Kindred souls for different spaces. 

Still the few women of whom just the thought of encouraged my ragged insides are God made sisters, and I am beyond words grateful that they are a gift given. 

Friends, God's hands. His voice. His unconditional love. In human form.  

Mamie-mama. ( found this in the draft box from February.)

And so with only a few minor adjustments, I can post something through a few tears, without reaching to far. 

I am so blessed by Five Minute Friday. By all my young mama friends on Facebook, without whom I would not make it through a day. I read the stories of spilled Cheerios, soggy sheets, elementary school projects, packing lunches, forgotten permission slips, and a thousand and one other minuscule and monumental tasks to be completed by young moms with young children. I'm encouraged that I am not alone in my constant battle to keep my head above water in the never ending flood of lost socks, broken toys, vomit filled lunch boxes (ok that only happened once) glad of that, the daily battle to get to school on time, clean and on a good day with teeth brushed and hair combed.  Difference being, I have young children. And I have grown children. I have  one teenager still at home, and nine grandchildren, if you count the two that live with me as my sixth and seventh sons. And I am fifty five, not young by motherhood standards. Afflicted by a chronic form of MS, symptoms of extreme debilitating fatigue, heat sensitivity, and rendered brain scrambled by stress; I am domestically and clerically challenged, further complicating my success at parenting and marriage. 

     Because oh yea, I also have a husband of almost thirty years who by is own admission is not a "kid person" he loves his children, did the little league thing all the way through rec ball with his post high school sons. Wrestling matches, football games, camping, fishing in Canada. Runs his own business, coal brokering and handling. Because of economy and the War on Coal, layoffs have put him back in a loader ten to twelve hours a day. He is worn out and rundown. A man of faith he knows in his head but struggles to live in his heart. He worries. About finances. And our son also with MS not so chronic, potentially more progressive, already affected with moderate loss of sight. Same son who labors by his side every day, struggling to keep the family business running. Stress abounds at the Shelocta tipple. Not healthy. For sons with MS or husbands with high blood pressure, arthritis, and property taxes that just increased 500%. Four more sons, one on parole, and now back in jail, the reason why we have two young ones. One game commissioner, Wildlife Conservation Officer, whose every call most likely involves a weapon in someone else's possession.  A rebellious teen. And a lost soul we adopted to late in his young life to undo the heart damage he had suffered.   

As a wife and mother to so diverse and complicated crew, i cannot endure one moment not graced my by my Jesus. 

I need my young friends, I need my sister peers. With grown children. With "issues". And Jesus. 

So, I guess that is it. Same now as then. Jesus come closer, cause I need you now. 

Five Minute Friday on Friday yet....go figure

Prompt: Hero
A hero, bigger than life, accomplishing the impossible, despite heart pounding fear demonstrates amazing acts of courage, conquering ogres great and small, but most of all rises up each morning grateful for the day prior and today's Sun rising. No matter the confusion, heartache, physical pain, lack of funds, angry words hurled thoughtlessly their way; places one foot, then another...rising walks confidently into the freshly from the mouth of God adventure called today.

Wednesday's version of Five Minute Friday

Prompt word: visit

Its kinda funny; I peeked at the prompt over the weekend. By peeked I mean I sat and prepared to write and some child/husband/household disaster exploded, of which I do not remember the details, either way, no writing happened. My mind went back to summer cousin time, when parents "visited", enjoyed a beer or two, sitting around kitchen tables or scattered across a covered porch. Cousins scattered across the basement and grand backyards for adventures, and escapades still unknown by the parents.
Through the course of my day I realized recalling and writing that story might fill a small paperback not a five minute mini prompt. I never left the house that Saturday, but I believe I visited every incher and corner of every room. My haphazard random mind leads from one project to another, never completing an entire task, and in general creating more disorder than tidy rooms or paid bills. I visited the laundry room and threw in load of clothes. I spent some quality time in my bedroom try to go through the pile of miscellaneous boxes and bags leftover stocking stuffers from Christmas and gifts received. I did succeed in boxing up the stocking stuffers, and collected keepsake type gifts into one container (to be placed around my home in "just the right place") oh yea, cause that will happen. I visited my bed for a short nap. I revisited my refrigerator, the week before I had cleaned and organized it; wiping and scrubbing unknown goo from drawers and shelves, all the while the garbage disposal was in overdrive. But this Saturday after peering in to look for ketchup I realized last weeks efforts were all for naught, and I had no ambition to repeat that process. Quickly, closing the door I ordered pizza for lunch.
I visited the living room with the vacuum several times. A Christmas present bean bag did not hold up to the antics of the five and six year old. Volumes upon volumes of round static laced Styrofoam danced from room to room, continually reappearing.
Boys needed played with. Spanked. Put in time out. Screamed at more than once I am sure.
The day spent visiting, was not all vanity and unproductive. Sometime after bedtime, with dishwasher running and glass of wine in hand I sat in MY CHAIR and pondered the goodness of my life and the kindness of my God.
Toys were strewn about and unfolded laundry sat in a basket on the dining room floor. Kitchen garbage and recycling rose above their chosen cans.
And still, the day was not a waste and I was not undone. I know that each day is a gift given for life and loving... boys fell asleep singing, husband was snoring. And me, I was grateful for Grace and Mercy, and a God who gives talent to the owner of the vineyard.
  

my boys

 

 

Seems to be quite a few "drafts" on my dashboard. Not much writing, just titles, a few random thoughts. A picture or two. The boys above are not quite half of what the title might lend itself to picture. Literally. Four more; grown men sons represent my repertoire. The complete set equals seven. Two past thirty, not much. Two in their twenties, a little deeper into twenty something every day. And the three seen above. Still at home. In my nest. Under my roof. If only each moment possessed the sweet tender love, adoration, and quiet complacency causing my mother's heart to smile.

Late at night. After a shower laced with much joint medicine smelling body wash. A roll on of essential oils, more for the aching joints. I smell like the modern day version of a bottle of Absorbine Jr.

My neck and thumb joints tingle from the, whatever it is. I am not well versed. Just use what helps. Trust my experts. Still the throbbing continues, slightly muted. What will I do if my hands quit working? How will I peck out my thoughts, dreams, and disappointments. My faith that a Loving God keeps my hands in His. It is a real faith. But not all the answers to our prayers our yes. Sometimes, "No." Is the better answer, even if we do not know or understand the why.

Standing up to pour a little more wine, because it seems like a good idea; my legs and back remind me of the manure I shoveled, and the vacuum I pushed around. Twice. The stiffening lessens as I go in search of the wining cat.

My bed and heating pad are calling my name.

Life is hard. God is Good.

Life is hard. God is Good.

Every day. All the time.

Life is hard. God is good.

Amen.

 

The Tree Five Minute Friday prompt

The tree has roots that go down deep. At least the trees that I am familiar with here in western Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is an amazing place to live. Four seasons, unique in beauty; unique in unpleasantness. Here where I have spent more than half my life, two separate time periods, but thirty plus of my fifty-five years. Several trees have impacted my life. In five minutes how can I tell the stories. The perfect maple, shaded dog runs, enticed young boys to test their nerve; glowed golden yellow every autumn.  Japanese Cherry or some such sort, planted on Fathers Day. Grew to beauty and bloomed in legendary correlation to good years and better years.  My half mile driveway is lined part way with walnut and hickory nut trunks and leaves. Winter snow paints the thin brown arms stretched high. Summer sun casts shadows and illuminates wild dancing daisies. 

A tree reminds us that a firm grounding, solid soil, and abundant rain bring forth life, beauty, comforting shade, the perfect playground for the timid and the brave. 

A savior hung upon a tree, bled and died, that all who believed could have a life of beauty, spiritual comfort. Laughter and joy. An eternal relationship with the living God. 

Be deeply grounded in the Words of Life. Drink in the Rain of the Holy Spirit. Put down deep roots in solid ground. 

I will treasure and enjoy my backyard monuments to the tree of Life where my Jesus died that I might live. 

Truth

Five Minute Friday Prompt: Truth http://lisajobaker.com/2013/11/five-minute-friday-truth/

The whole truth is that I love my life. I do not always like it. And the truth about that is I don't often LIKE it. Sitting here listening to to the dishwasher hum (I'm blessed with a pretty quiet one), musing over my amazing grandchildren, three beautiful baby, girls, four rowdy, boys, one in the belly, and at least one more in then planning stages. Across my kitchen and through the double doorway and into our version of a sunroom, a corner of a fingerprint decorated window I catch a glimpse of the woods behind the rail fence, the fence that in the past kept the live in grandboys corralled. Morning sun plays with the dying green of summer. Fallen leaves decorate the wood pile. Such a small frame, such a huge picture of the beauty of creation and the landscape of my life. So often I see the limit of the frame and miss the depth and breadth of the truth. I KNOW what magnificent lies above and behind in front and around the corner of the tiny frame of the sunroom window. I cant see it at the moment.

But absolutely most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the truth is; I know it is there.

And absolutely, most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the truth is; Jesus has provided me with life abundant. Life blessed. Life eternal. Life beautiful. The life I love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grace: Five Minute Friday Prompt

Grace
http://lisajobaker.cm/2013/11/five-minute-friday-grace/#comment-125552

Unmerited, undeserving, unending, unwavering...Grace of God.
For the moment. For this very second, which feels oppressive.
Feelings, which inhabit the moment we exist in; right now.
Who we think we are
Believe we are
Apart from Grace.
I am copying the format.
oops
Grace says, we are not who we think we are. 
We are who He died to recreate us to become.
because of Grace.
And feelings, are just 
Passing through to mess with
Who we really are.
New creature.
Perfect in the eyes of the Father
Brother/sister to the Prince of Peace.
Possessing the Power of a Spirit Holy...
More than conquerors
Overcomers
Moms; force behind the next generation.
Redeemed from the foolish words and deeds
That spring off our tongue, 

up from feeling driven heart of flesh
When we forget about Grace.
Hallelujah
Grace never forgets me.

Together Five Minute Friday Prompt

I'm laughing, we'll not really. I'm sitting in my mom-mobile with the Labradoodle panting on the back seat. Waiting. Grown son is seeing a doctor. He does not drive, and can be somewhat needy. Nothing to do with "together"...except that I am almost always WITH someone. Rarely together with anyone, especially women friends. The fatigue in my life exacerbated by much stress and busy household keep me homebound more than is good for me. I am convicted and encouraged by the prompt post on Today's Five Minute Friday, spurred on to work towards changing my loner tendencies.  Truthfully, I have become content and complacent in my seclusion. I am able to convince my self that it is not self imposed but a result of life circumstances beyond my control. My control but not God's, who encourages and even commands fellowship with the saints, even beyond my Sunday church attendance. What will I do about it?  I have made a commitment to attend tomorrow morning a women's breakfast at our local church (which I have been a part of for over 25 years, these ladies are not strangers). My few closest comrades will not be attending so it will be a double stretch. God has been pushing to drive me out of my hermit life for some time; grudgingly, with limited faith, tomorrow I will take a baby step.

Five Minute Friday: Ordinary

Ordinary

the ordinary is the every day nitty gritty of life, the down on your knees wiping juice up off the worn hardwood floor, the sniffing around in the boy's room looking for the hidden pull up or soggy underpants your nose knows are hidden somewhere. Loving the embarrassed five year old trying to bury the evidence. The ordinary happens when your teen rolls his eyes spitting out some cryptic disrespectful cutting remark and you breath deep into the peace of God praying you don't repay nasty with evil. Ordinary happens in the valley, in slugging away at the daily. Worship, communion with the Savior comes easy on Sunday during corporate worship, on Tuesday morning ladies bible study, when your taking a meal to a new mom or struggling friend. We serve Jesus with joy abundant in the extra ordinary. Sadly, our every day ordinary often suffers neglect and ambivalence. Jesus fill me with the Grace to live in your extraordinary Grace, Love, and joy especially in the dullest of times. Grant me Mercy extraordinary in my daily ordinary so that I might love bigger, live better,  by and for Jesus alone.

huh

........ my dad always said...."MY CHILDREN, DON'T FALL IN LOVE WITH THIS WORLD...WE ARE JUST PASSING THROUGH....BUT HEAVEN AND ETERNITY IS FOREVER." Which one will we choose?
Not my dad, but a quote I excerpted from a prolife column comment section; cuts right to the heart. Where does your love fall? Who and or what is your first love. Nothing but Jesus will satisfy. Will bring contentment. Peace. Relief from fear. From Anxiety. No one but Jesus fills the empty spaces in your heart. Your life. The deep chiasms of your soul. The world we live in is, "empty pale and poor compared to loving your my lord, so lead me to follow hard after you." Tonight is one of those empty nights, where the people and calling the Lord has placed in my life should fill to the overflow with satisfaction and purpose. Only, I am tired. Bath time looms ahead like some prehistoric ogre waiting to devour my eyeballs and suck my guts out through the empty holes...yes, it is that bad. Not always, sometimes, I only lose the eyeballs, not the corresponding guts. Either way, bath time is followed promptly by bedtime; another Olympic event requiring, strength, stamina, and the fierceness  of scarred alley cat. Even now, my orders of shower time, are going unheeded. Time to step it up a bit. Be back later...perhaps. 

Five Minute Friday: Write

I have been writing as long as I can remember; I have paper proof as far back as junior high. During my third failed attempt at a college degree, somewhere around fifteen years ago, an English professor affirmed my secret heart longing; he said I was good. My heart was full to the overflow with the confirmation of a life long dream, maybe I could write something someone somewhere might want to read.
Almost two decades and more than half an adult life later, still I plug along. Five Minute Friday has given my the kick in the rear I needed to at least put some words out there. My commitment to write something every week continues to draw me back. Like tonight the words are sometimes forced and awkward. But to write is one of my great loves. Yes, I love Jesus first, my family, friends, neighbors, and enemies, but writing gives me outlet to express that love, and often the frustrations brought on by all that required loving. Tonight I wish the words flowed easy, instead of crunchy and as I said forced. I can remember when writing was required by some teacher of professor I, often felt then that I got my best stuff in the middle of the night as deadlines approached. Later, I would go back and reread and realize that if I had taken my time and I could have done ever better. So much of life by the grace of God is similar. If I hurriedly rush through my required chores and life duties, God will bless me with a level of success. Children get raised. Dinner gets made. We get up and do it again. But purposed life, purposed writing, will result in great blessing to those around us, and hopefully to even one person who reads a scratched out word or two by a wanna be writer. So let us live, let us write, let us love, in the name of Jesus and trust Him to use our words, and our lives for His Glory.