Saturday, November 10, 2018

How I spend my time.

Let’s see if I play this game:
Sleep = 56 hours
School = 24 hours
Homework = 30 hours
Karate = 7 hours
Shopping (mostly groceries) = 2 hour
Piano lessons (for my daughter) = 1 hour
Church = 6 hours
Dog training = 2 hours
Household chores = 10 hours
Getting dressed, showered,  breakfasted = 7
Cooking = 3 hours
Helping my kids with their homework = 3
Free time= 10 hours per week. (this week I spend 3 hours of that helping my mother, 3 hours doing genealogy, and 3 hours on a date with my  husband, and 1 hour playing suduku.)

Thursday, October 11, 2018

Beauty of Life

Part of the beauty of our lives, 
is that we survive it all; 
the mistakes, 
the happenstance, 
other people's choices.

Tuesday, October 09, 2018

Speaker for the Dead

Ever read Orson Scott Card's Speaker for the Dead? It is the very end of the Ender Games series. So Ender goes where asked and researches and speaks the full truth of the dead's life. The beauty in the speaking is finding the humanity in the mistakes and lives of the dead.

I feel that I am attempting to do that for my Grandmother, preparing to share her history at her celebration of life. But, unfortunately, I do not have the time to interview all involved and search up the truth of all her actions. For much we know only as much as public record searches will reveal. Which on the parts of her life she spoke the least about, so do the records.

Unfortunately, we end up editing her life. How sad, to edit a life. Some may feel we are doing this to make it "Acceptable" or"safe". but that is not the purpose. All of her mistakes, all of her hard times made her into what she is. They all gave her experience and will ultimately work for her good.

But, unlike Ender, I only have about 10 minutes to speak, not unlimited time. But I will endeavor to speak her truth, which like all lives, ultimately point to the beauty of the great plan, the plan of happiness, of redemption through Christ of both sin and death.

Thursday, October 04, 2018

Grief

Today I helped to pick flowers for my Grandma's funeral.

There is something about standing, your head bowed while trying to make decisions for something you always knew you'd have to face, but never hoped to.

We flipped through flower books, casket sprays, stand displays, table arrangements. Choosing colors, themes, flowers, that reflect the life and heart of the one you dearly love. We started the night before, working with the family that are flying in in a  few days, hearing their ideas, sharing pictures.

Grandma was pink. Not light pink, not bright pink, but all pinks at once and intermingling. She was as pure and innocent and gentle as a daisy, blooming on roadsides, in fields. Authentic in her truth, no matter where she told it.

Standing next to my mom, being gentle in our words as not to draw tears. We worked together, again in preparations for her funeral Celebration of Life. I am glad to have my mother with me. We provide comfort to each other. At least I didn't lose my mom. One day that will most likely happen, but for now, I am side by side with her, as we work through this process. As I learn how to do it one day for her.

There is something interesting about grief. How well it hides, perhaps behind your ear, until it breaks forth into songs of sorrow, joy, redemption. Breaks forth into tears, the leak unbidden, from the deep wells your eyes have become.

It is like a weight that hangs on your back, maybe in your heart, that you carry it with you and it doesn't disappear when you shower, and you can't get under it with soap either.

I suppose that over time, the weight gets easier to bear, we strengthen from the carrying of it, but at the same time it puts the extra stress on your knees, our hearts.

Grief isn't easy, but somehow it happens, whether we try to ignore it or not. Somehow it is just one more scar that adds character to our personality.

But yet, in the end, does it make a difference if we grieve? Does joy swallow up sorrow? Does gratitude replace uncertainty? Is human frailty made strong in Christ? Does death lose its mighty sting in the resurrection?

Shall we all not dance again together, in the streets?

Monday, September 03, 2018

financial straws

Americans are going broke- in fact, most of them are broke, but rotating lines of credit allows them to still spend.

The only reason we have not faced the 1929 style crash are those ubiquitous credit cards. Meanwhile, we are still working 3 jobs just to pay the interest on those credit cards. How long will it take to break the vicious cycle of spending?
Spending makes us feel good and accomplished. We spend to hide the fact that we work ourselves to the bones just to sustain our lives and make the very few very rich.

Right now, healthcare/health insurance are major financial bloodsuckers. But most of us sally on, even though in the back of our minds we are wondering if we are going to pay the dentist or the pharmacist.

But yet the retail market is as strong as its been in 30 years.

What straw is going to break the camel's back? For many it has already been broken.

I suspect rising gas prices will impact us... but yet as oil prices rise, solar and wind and other renewables prices are dropping. So if you have the cash to switch over, it ends up being to your advantage.

Interesting puzzle . . .

Any insights?

Saturday, September 01, 2018

Prayer and the Time Line

Prayers are not static in time.
They have to power to move things forward and back, to set up the little details that are needed for miracles and tender mercies to occur in our lives.

Wednesday, August 08, 2018

Motherhood is the Nessicity of Invention

Bloody Cucumber
Bloody Cutting board
and Bloody baby finger.

Egon tried to help me cut up cucumbers for pickles today. He must have nicked an artery at the tip of that finger. But I caught him and a rag and slowed it enough to bandage and went back to pickle making (after a brief stink washing blood off of it all).

Soon enough he tore the bandage off when we weren't looking and managed to get blood everywhere.

Bloody floor
Bloody couch
Bloody baby

It looked like a murder scene in here. After I caught him and a rag again I stanched it enough that it wasn't bleeding so I didn't bother with a bandage.

Yeah- pickles, and dinner and  My husband and big boys disappear to scouts. So I play outside with the toddler. How many times does a baby have to be pushed on a swing? How many times can you pull a wagon around the yard? How many times do you walk in circles balancing the bike the toddler rides (and by ride I mean sit on the seat with his legs not touching the peddles)? I think he might be learning to steer. I open the garage so he can pull the wagon in more directions. And sit down to brush my old black dog. That always leaves a pile of fur that makes it easy to imagine his bones had melted away and that's all that's left of the poor pooch.

So now its bedtime and the someone roughly handles the toddler and his finger starts bleeding again. Nowhere near as bad. But he had to be caught and bandaged so that my bed is only made bloody by me. But he puts the bandage in his mouth and chews it off. So we add it back on with a layer or two of duck tape.

He still manages to get it off. So We get a big boy's sock and safety pin it to his shirt. So far 5 minutes and the bandage is still on.

But between the dog fur and the bloody little kid, one would think I had brutally murdered the dog and forgot the clean up after myself. Only the dog is happily staring at us through the glass door, wondering when we will give up and go to bed.