Friday, April 30, 2021

Five Minute Friday Prompt: Remedy

 My Husband believes the solution to all minor injuries in Iodine. I do not remember being covered with the ugly red blotches, but do remember the dread. The crying. Begging my mom to stay away from my already painful injuries, with that wicked red liquid. I was never successful. She did also treat my wound with kind words, gently blowing away the sting. 

Now as I age I've become a bit more holistic in my wound treating and general household cleaners, food, lifestyle. In my home I have my husband two young teens we are raising. Iodine is always his first choice. I have salves, oils, some CBD creams, and sprays. While the boys will reach both ways to seek home first aid. DrewAllen, bites his lip or the inside of his mouth, he runs to the bathroom and paints his sore with iodine. If he gets a cut he wants the CBD cream. Deep Blue for muscle aches, (which doubles as husband repellent) he hates the smell. Kaleb, is coming along, he not longer calls my stash witchcraft, and depending on the pain will come over to my dark side, as he describes them

Different injuries require different remedies. Some surgery. Some a kiss and a band-aide. 

Today's world is filled with broken people. Broken Marriages. Loss of faith and friendships. Great divides. Fear. Worst of all hatred.

No matter the wound or the loss, the remedy is still the same.

Jesus.

The cross is where we find eternal salvation and communion with the Father. Jesus also brings holy remedies, first aid to our fleshly hurts and open wounds. Whether it is the sting of Iodine, healing salve, or a kiss and a band-aid.  His presence in our lives today is more than enough to get us to tomorrow. 

And His red stains paid for it all. 

Thursday, April 29, 2021

Lambchops

      “This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on, my friend.Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was.And they'll continue singing it forever, just becauseThis is the song that never ends…!”

     The song that never ends will live on in your mind till eternity and beyond. Once hearing it, say hundreds or maybe only a few times, it will never leave you. Your last day in the dementia ward, before crossing into the next world, the words will still be swirling through your conscious and unconscious mind: waiting for someone to sing along.

     Raising children has been like that for me. Yes, it's the job, I mean Joy, that never ends. It just goes on and on and on and on. Period. No one really sings along. I mean I wish they would. With a little help we could turn it into a whole musical production. Different parts. Different sets. A stage manager. “Can’t you just see it?”What a production it could be!Unfortunately, the production could not raise enough funding, so today it's just me and my brood. Without getting too up close and personal,

     “Come and listen to a story about…”  Yea that is the Beverly Hillbillies theme song. Lately these ditties keep running through me somewhat depleted gray matter.

      If we count the two grandsons currently residing in my home, and well we kinda must. They live here. I am responsible for their bathing and toothbrushing. Often that is the least of my worries.

     “‘Are you dead?”

“What on earth did he do to you that you thought the baseball bat was a good idea?”

“I know you didn't actually hit him with it. But, swinging in it in his general direction had us both concerned.”  The somewhat loud discussion continues. “And you were screaming, ‘I'm going to kill you’. That threw me off a bit.” I mumbled barely audible. No, not really, more like at a death scream.

     “Well yes, I agree, afterwards, he did throw a few well-placed jabs. Honestly, you kinda deserved it.” I sigh dejectedly.

      Both offended parties retreat to neutral ground. Me, I pour myself a healthy glass of dark red.

     So, I guess the above would be a chapter in the last section of the narrative.

     Yet, it is the one I am living now, so the easiest for me to recall and retell.

     Not all the stories are quite so violent. We do have laughter and good food. We eat out a lot.

Perhaps being involved in a group of young writers will push me to dig deeper into adventures of the past, wherein lie exciting tales to tell.

     Truly there are many joys in parenting. The terrain is rocky, and the paths are steep. God alone gives grace, so that we all may survive. Would I trade my current adventure for another? Please do not ask me twice. Regardless, this is my journey to travel. By Grace alone, we will all flourish and give Glory to the God who kept us all alive.


 Side note: I joined a writing group that meets once a month. They are the young writers. I’m the old lady in the group. Taught several in homeschooling 20 years ago.



Friday, April 23, 2021

Five Minuet Friday: Broken

 

 Broken

 "If it ain't broke, it ain't ours!" One of my husband's frequent quips, he has quite the repertoire. He is famous for his quips and quotes. Mostly, they are funny. This particular one, sometimes. Unfortunately not often.  I hear it as we are staring at perhaps, a hole shaped oddly like a baseball, dented into the siding. Perhaps, when we hear the ping of a BB gun, followed by the shattering of glass. Or maybe when we enter a grandson's bedroom and switch on the light, and remain in the darkness. Oddly again, another bedroom light/fan no longer produces light and one fan blade slightly off kilter. Holes in the couch, looking oddly like a small slit from a pocket knife. No back. No batteries in any remote. No problem. A futon bed used as a couch but bent in two. Like in half...extruded.

You get the picture. Broken. So much of the stuff of life, our house. Yes, our boys, grandsons, been with us since they were babies, can be a bit destructive. they break stuff. Sometimes it seems overwhelming. And costly. 

Thankfully, we have the Perfect example of how to love and forgive. Ignore sometimes, (mostly because we are not in our thirty's anymore.) See, they are broken. From birth they were rejected, and suffered much in the womb, and in the earliest days of their lives. So we love them because Jesus loves us, and His love empowers us. Even tho it seems we continue to find ways to break His heart. 

These boys are not easy. To raise. To teach. To love. Yes I will admit it they can be hard to love. Yet still they are loved. Because Jesus loved me first. He came to this earth to save us from our brokenness   as we often break the stuff of His world. So, If we ain't broke, we ain't His." But we are broken and we are His. And He loves us still.  

 

 

 

Friday, April 16, 2021

Five Minute Friday: Permission

 Permission  

     By default our lives are constructed in such a way that as adults we know we are not our own. First to Christ. Our families, friends, folks who happen into our lives that we are called to love and serve. All this commands sacrifice. We give time, energy, emotions, maybe even finances. Giving and serving is something as Christians we are commanded to do. So we do. 

But what happens when we have given all we have. We can become exhausted. Cranky. Maybe feeling guilty because we are not doing more. Already giving freely from and empty cup.

Permission. We need to give ourselves permission to rest. To refuel our giving tank, so to speak. Maybe even take some time away. 

A few weeks back, I was exhausted, weary. I knew. Knew, I was not giving the people in my life what they needed and deserved. My tank was depleted. I was all those things mentioned above and more.   I found myself opening a flight app on my smarter than me phone, and looking up flights to Florida. Crazy, I could just pack and fly south by 2:00 pm! 

But that is exactly what I did. It was bold. Moms and wives do not just up and go away. I did. I realize we do not all have that luxury to flyaway to someplace warm for five days. I am grateful for the means to secure that kind of escape. I had been given permission. I believe by God. He needs us at our best. The more difficult permission came from myself. I had to be brave enough to let go, and do what I needed. 

If, or rather when, you find yourself needing self care. Do not hesitate. God has already given the go ahead. Give yourself permission. And Go. Or do. Get that pedicure. Find a place to retreat and refuel. Meet someone for lunch for no reason.  I believe one of the most difficult ways we must give, is to ourselves. Jesus retreated to pray. To be alone. To rest. You have His permission to take care of you.

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Five Minute Friday: pressure

 Avoiding self inflicted pressure to do more and be more is a new project of mine. I came to realize that my plate was overflowing, spilling to the floor, sometimes  the more important stuff. More than my plate could hold. All of us have been given different sized plates lest we compare and condemn  ourselves and others. I’m working on  building an escape route from condemnation. Self disappointment.  I want to avoid placing a pressure on myself to do an be more than  I am able or am called to do. I am determined to seek what God would have me accomplish. And next. Breath in. Breath out and relax a bit. 

In this hurry scurry world we live in, the pressure to do more and accomplish much had become a burden. For me anyways. A self adopted burden that is not God’s best for me. For us. Yes, He calls us to do a full day’s work. To serve others. But then he calls us to rest. To reflect. Spend time with Him. Our families. 

 God did not create the whole world in one day. I mean He could of. He’s God. He broke it into six days. Each with its particular assignment. And we know on the seventh he rested. He commands us to do the same. 

God is kind and patient with us. I believe we should do the same. Be kind and patient with ourselves. 

Thursday, April 08, 2021

Gentle


Ephesians 4:2
[2] with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,
Jesus tells us we are to treat others, our neighbor, our spouse as we would treat ourselves. 
Seems direct enough. 
How many of us treat ourselves as we would treat others. 
Are we gentle on ourselves? 
God assumed such, if we want to be kind and patient. 
Gentle. 
With others. 
Do we? 
Treat ourselves gently?
Or, do we expect much of us. Do we hold ourselves to a higher standard? If you will. 
We push ourselves. 
We lay out the list, and darn well better complete it!
Make commitments we can barely meet. We want to be servants. God says we are to be. 
Be gentle with yourself. As Jesus is gentle with us. 

Thursday, April 01, 2021

The sabbatical

When I got to the place where my recliner and my pillow were my best and only friends, at least in my own  muddled, scrambled gray matter. Coherent thinking had departed weeks ago.  I became convinced something had to change. Desperation and depression were closing in. Soon I would be more unstable. More than I already was.  
    Sitting in church, proud I had showered, drove alone and gotten inside the building.  Pressing in on. my spirit was the notion that I should maybe get of Dodge. Well, at least out from under the weight of self and life inflicted despair, fatigue, where was God anyway hopelessness. So heavy was the oppression, deciding what socks to wear was to much work. 
    So why write all of it in my blog?  Well where else I guess. 
    I did two things that day in church, well not counting talking to a friend in the bathroom,  I made a flight reservation for Florida, and completed a online grocery order to be picked up on the way home.  And i don’t think I can, multitask. Smh... I called my husband on the way home asking him to make sure the boys would be ready to carry in the groceries. And call and see if I can get into our Florida condo. Tonight. 
    A small fleece I had laid out. If I cannot get in the condo it will be a sign I had not heard God and he would provide another road to my healing.  Not true, exactly. I knew it meant now wasn’t the right time for Florida. Beyond that; there were no thoughts. I received the go ahead. And I did. Go ahead. Packed a quick small. Tiny. Bag. Passed out hugs. And left. I drove myself to the airport. Parked my truck and almost ran to the ladies room. 
  Already I had accomplished much. All on my own I took the initiative to make some some changes in my life. I was excited and a bit frightened at the same time. As I do not want this writing, the telling of my story, to turn into a novel, I need to decide what details to include. 
    Landing in Orlando the warm air held me close. I had arrived.  What would I take home?

   Always in the back of my mind, nagging. Would I do enough. Would I pray enough. Would I exercise. Would I write enough. Would I would I relax. Rest. Would I go home better.  Better than when I had left? 
Would I be enough?  I had set high standards for myself. Do not waste this precious time. Use every minute. To be better. To be enough to show others, but mostly myself, I had done well with my time. The parable of the talents raking through my broken mind. Pushing. 
     Truth be told, also a song (Matthew West) I cling to, convincing myself I am not alone in this battle.  For sanity. For KNOWING Jesus as my savior. Sensing his presence in my life. My day to day.  Guess what, the day to day is where it matters. Believe it or not, that’s what I found. 
     Every morning I woke up. Drank coffee. And Tuesday after I ventured inside a grocery store. Alone  I could eat breakfast on the patio. Something I haven’t done in a couple years, gone inside a grocery or other large store. Big step. Bought food. More than I maybe needed.  
    Locked myself out of my room. Twice. First time, no shoes. No phone. Barefoot staring at the locked door. I could have panicked. I did not. Again a God thing. Deciding if I should walk to the front desk. No shoes. No mask. The sweetest woman was putting her trash in the bin. Half mumbling to myself and her; I share my situation. Here, she says take mine. Take what? Her shoes. Her shoes? Really. So humbled I thanked her and headed to the desk. Shoes a symbol God often uses throughout the Bible. I am wearing, walking in another women’s shoes. If I could have without tripping I would have skipped to the front desk. Of course I returned them. The shoes. But see, He showed up in the small stuff of my journey. 
     Over and over I had the opportunity to revert to panic or despair over the little stuff. Not finding  a chair at the pool. Did something else. Ordered lunch. Made an appointment for a pedicure. Ate. Ordered an Uber. Aloe Vera leg massage. Yes. It was amazing. I then WALKED to the grocery store. I. Even went in. Of course I already talked about that adventure. I had turned disappointment into an adventure. 
     Of course I will never be enough. But He is. Enough. And then some. Instead of despairing, I did something else. Following His leading I got nice nails and avocados. These are the lessons I want to take home. Sandy, if you can make it through the little, what does the Word say, well sort of, I will make it through the bigger. Don’t despair. Do something else. And that was only full day two. Here I sit full day four. Still haven’t told of my new friend from Michigan. I met her at the other pool, where there were enough chairs. And ducks. Yea. In the pool. They wandered in. Took a short swim and paddled back to their muddy pond. Who could imagine. What an adventure. 
    Riding in the helicopter, and that was today I guess. I made another new friend. Spending time with a stranger who became dear to me. All I know is her name. Debra. We shared an adventure. And that was enough. Enough. May always see the enough in the everyday. 
Yes. I prayed. 
I listened to Christian music and sang along. Worshiping. 
I drank water. I did lose track of that. But enough. 
So instead of seeing all of life as too much. 
I now know it is enough. 
And so am I. 
      And hopefully. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get to day three and four. 
Enough for now.