Oh Hope, where art thou

What’s on my mind?

Sitting in my office attempting “quiet time”, my philodendron caught my eye.

Morning skies dark and bleak gave no offer of hope.

Yet. Stems. Leaves.

A small flower.

Barely noticeable.

All stretching. Leaning into.

The sunshine.

Where was none visible.

Today.

So many moments I long for the warmth of the sun on my face.

The evident presence of the Son in my heart. Realizing only the dark

and the bleak.

My plant knows more than I.

It knows the sun and Son are always present if not visible. 

Continually life giving.

Unwavering source of Life and Hope.

Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, 

who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, 

comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.

  2 Thessalonians" 2:16-17

Cry Out

"Where have all the flowers gone?" Nah. Coming up with some pithy quote to excuse away the months that have passed. Empty. Days. Weeks. Since fingers tapped the keys
The Sandy I knew. Shrinking. Dying for years. Decades Perhaps?
The reclusive hermit loner I've fought, it's ugly spirit, crept deeper into the crevasses of my numbing soul. As if a poisonous vine; depression, anxiety; wound itself around. In. Out. Choking the very life from my eyes. Darkening my world. My life.
On tip toes the slimy, sticky bottom threatened to draw me deeper.
But God! Never. Let. Me. Go.
Always held tighter in His arms than any threat formed against me. Unknown to me, but always present. I was safe.
He allowed me to sink.
So I could rise again.
To a battle.
Fought every day..
I cry out to Jesus.
Who expects nothing.
But has given all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeGNgBwPTMA

So my cookies are messed up and it took me best part of an hour to get this far. I am not even sure if I can publish. The new computer has no stored photos, so I cannot spice up the post with color or cute.
Just me and the keys and not everyone home, there is little hope of my tapping out anything profound or funny; or even coherent.
Done for today.

only two months later?? wow!

Its quiet. 
I'm alone.
Dishwasher is running.
Washing machine is running.
I brushed the crumbs off the counters; floors always need swept anyway.
I sit. Listening to the fish tank, didn't fill quite full enough; the sound of water gliding over mossy stones ripples behind me. Sucking in the deep quiet. Measured
breathing. A good dog at my feet. 
My heart should be at peace. Resting. Relishing the moment. 
Morning chaos imprinted, leaves me with a rumbling heart. I know His peace is tangible. 
Touchable. I am close. For now that is enough.
The knowing. Is enough. So often we think we need. Deserve. More. 
He says His Grace is sufficient. 
His Peace He leaves with us. 
Expect trials. He carries us.
His Words. 
He is The Word. 
And it is good.

Never Disappoints

So, almost eleven months since I put any words in print. Print that I saved or shared.
Bravely I sit on my front porch staring out at the view and farm I love.

I was supposed to with a bunch of women friends at Eat n Park celebrating my two week past birthday. A group of us bound together by God meet monthly for worship and prayer, studying who God is and how we are to walk the paths He has called us to travel. Additionally, we gather on the first Tuesday of every month to celebrate the lives of those of us born in that month.
Dressed and ready to go my husband got; the phone call. Larry our farm hand was broke down. Combining soybeans in the driest of damp fields, his Gleaner grinds to a halt. Disappointed, I released him to go. Too late to find a sitter for the boys, grandsons eight and nine, permanent residents, sons now really, could never be left alone; maybe till they marry.
Regardless, here I sit. Not at Eat n Park. Not with my friends.
Again.
See, the girls all get together for their bimonthly gatherings. Rarely, do I attend.

Having kids at fifty-eight can be a little challenging. We have a few sitters. And, we have grown children who would are happy to help out sometimes. But last minute. Right now. A tough one.
But tonight we had it in the bag. I was going.
Disappointed. Again.
Quickly, God dropped into my heart. Well, A piece of a verse. I am not a good memorizer.
Google. Must love Google.
New Living Translation,
Romans 5:5
5. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because He has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.

Boys throw the football back and forth on the gravel path in front of the house. Begging for praise for the amazing catch or pass.
It is good.
I am not disappointed.

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.