I'm Just Curious...

It is November 9. Halloween was about two weeks ago. Christmas is 6 weeks away.

Last I checked, there is a holiday between the two. That holiday for turkey and football lovers alike.

Thanksgiving.

But I've noticed something. It's become sort of tradition for stores to go from Halloween to Christmas with nary a thought to Thanksgiving, save for sales on the bird.

But this year seems different.

I don't watch a lot of TV but I've noticed that there are no (at least that I've seen) commercials for Thanksgiving. Usually there are some scattered about reminding us to stock up on green beans and french fried onions for the green bean casserole. Stores are completely decorated. Christmas music is playing round the clock on a local radio station. Christmas trees are going up.

So I'm curious--what about Thanksgiving? Is it a non-issue? Are we so ready to rush time that already charges at supersonic speed?

I guess I just wonder why Thanksgiving seems to be the step-child of the holiday season. Is it as simple as there are no gifts or candy give aways associated with it? Is it because there aren't really decorations associated with it? Has it been reduced to another long weekend that just happens to have an overflow of food and football?

Perhaps Thanksgiving isn't thought of much because it requires something of us. To have a day set aside for giving thanks implies that we actually are thankful, that we realize we have things for which we are undeserving. It implies that we recognize that those things, blessings if you will, come from someone.

So, yes, while I love Christmas and all the loveliness that it brings. I also deeply love Thanksgiving because it requires some reflection, some thought.

Giving thanks has a way of humbling us and grounding us so that the loveliness and meaning of Christmas can sparkle that much more.

And that is, indeed, worthy.

Canine Cookie Story

At the moment, my kitchen cabinet is piled with sugar cookies cut into various dog shapes awaiting my girl to return home and ice to her heart's content. Given my recent diagnosis and the girl's undying affection for all things canine, dog cookies seemed far more fitting than fall leaves.

Besides I'm still waiting on fall's real arrival. Here in the deep south, we got lots of false starts to fall.

Then I noticed her.
This poor poodle with her tail broken off and her slightly curled head. Pitiful.

Indulge me a minute while I think through something.

How many times during the day an hour do I think pitiful in relation to myself. Especially during that cursed first hour of the day when staring into a mirror is unavoidable.

I see the scars, more numerous now than ever. I know every single detail of my inmost thoughts about my outer self that lead to the opinion (that is put into strict practice in my home) that full length mirrors have no place in what God intended to be a peaceful refuge, aka: the home.

Then it hit me. This poor poodle, complete with her missing tail and curled up head, in all probability, won't be the one that Gracen slops frosting on and devours because it's "less than".

Nope, it will be the one that she takes cares with. The one that that gets her tail glued back on with edible glue, complete with a bow. Her slightly curled head will make her head the perfect shape for an icing crown.

She will be the one that sports whatever delicious bling Gracen can find in the decorating box.

She will become more than the sum of her parts.

Every time I hurl a curse at myself because, yet again, I've chosen a Dr. Pepper, albeit a diet-caffeine free one, over water. Every time I actually choose choke down the water. Every time I hurl a curse at myself for wasting time on the computer or in front of the television instead of doing something much more useful and constructive with my time. Every time I actually choose to something useful and constructive with my time.

Every single time, with every single "good" and "bad" decision, I am still becoming more than the sum of my parts.

But, of course, I'm luckier than the poodle. The poodle exists to be decorated, even beautifully, and then eaten.

I know that, with each and every decision, good or bad, with each and every scar and flaw, physical and otherwise, I learn a bit more about becoming more than the sum of my parts--I'm learning more about the Creator of those parts. Hopefully, I'm looking more like the Creator and less like the creation.

So very much more than the sum of my parts, thankfully.

Where Joy Is

I've dealt with chronic pain for several years now. And so far, it's been somewhat manageable--though sometimes life and schedules have to be thought about more than I wish they had to be.

Over the past several weeks, there has been much more pain of a different variety. Because it has been different and ongoing, I finally broke down and visited the doctor. Blood was drawn--much, much blood.

Results should be in by Tuesday, hopefully. Things like rheumatoid arthritis and thyroid problems were mentioned. My hope at this point is that tests show something. Somehow it seems easier to hurt when you know why!

I don't know what the tests will show. I'm in that no man's land of pain without explanation, knowing something is wrong but not knowing what. The wondering if a diagnosis will change life again. The knowing that it is foolish to think too much about what it could be yet knowing that my weird brain needs to process the worst case scenario.

The tests may show something that in all honesty I'd rather not deal with, they may show something fairly easily fixable. Periods of increased pain may be in my future. There is simply no way right now to know.

Regardless of what the tests show (or don't), regardless of whether the day is pain filled or relatively pain free, regardless.... My hope, my joy doesn't rest there. It can't.

Those things change. My hope and my joy has to be anchored in something that doesn't change, that doesn't shift. Otherwise there is no hope or joy--there are only never ending questions and happiness based on circumstances, which is definitely not joy.

So, I'll wait.

I'll hurt.

I'll not understand.

BUT...

I will have joy.

"But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me." Psalm 13: 5-6

The Extras

You know there are times when you just simply have to laugh.

This morning has been one of those times.

A little background before the story:

**Resolution made long before turning the big 4-oh: I would not focus on the age but on the life. I didn't want to miss the good that the maturing ages bring because I was focused on the age itself or on the unpleasantness that may or may not accompany growing older.

**Because of the "extras" in my life (prosthesis, chronic pain, etc), I have to sort of schedule really busy days with some cushion for some down time.

**Another resolution: never, ever be afraid to find the humor--and the lesson in a situation.

Now the story...

The last several weeks have been incredibly busy for us and this week and weekend were a sort of culmination of that busy. Several of us had planned a garage/bake sale to benefit the school Gracen attends. That happened on Saturday and was far more successful than any of us thought it would be! A very good thing.

I knew that Saturday afternoon and Sunday would be sort of a question mark as to what my body would allow me to do. Saturday afternoon wasn't too bad. Clothes got washed, dinner was fixed, time was spent outside, and football was watched--good times.

By bedtime, though, things were starting to rebel like a spoiled two year old.

This morning, the two year old had blossomed into a defiant teenager.

My leg hurt, my back hurt, my shoulders hurt, and I couldn't breath because my nose still isn't quite doing right.

I had to laugh. I immediately thought of my Grandma's love for the television show The Golden Girls and remembered one scene in particular. The part I thought of begins at about 1:46.

Go, watch--I'll wait.

As I thought of the Icy Hot (that I paid for with a coupon, thankyouverymuch) I'd just put on my shoulders in an effort to be able to put on my artificial leg and dry my hair, the nose spray I'd just used in an effort to be able to breath, the lotion I'd rubbed on desert dry skin, and the Ibuprofen I'd just taken in an effort to actually bend--well, I had to laugh.

Turns out the Icy Hot didn't help so much. So now I sit, legless and flat-haired, writing about my adventures as a 40 something year old amputee with more pain than I'd like and missing worship with my family--and on a gorgeous day, I might add.

Temptation to whine, moan, and despair right there at my fingertips. It would be so easy. I'm not stronger than anyone else--I want to whine and groan. And, you know what, there are times when I do. More times than I care to admit, actually.

But then, I remember that it is simply not about me. Hopefully, my life, with all its extras, reflects something more than myself.

I firmly believe that God gives many gifts. Some are very welcome (in our way of thinking), some are not but they are gifts, nonetheless, because God gives them and because each of those precious gifts teach us something more about Him--and leaves us looking a little less like ourselves.

Do You See What I See?

I took this picture the other day when Gracen and I were out roaming. It wasn't until I got home and uploaded the pictures that I saw it--there are five little fishes swimming around under that leaf.

That leaf, which I happen to think is beautiful in its own right, floating on the glass-water hides an entire other world. A living, active world.

This picture represents much of what I love about photography. Sometimes there is much in the background, much in the slightly out of focus.

And unless you take the time and really look, sometimes looking into what isn't the focal point, even into what isn't the "pretty", you may miss the best part. You may miss the really important.

So, I'm going to look a little deeper, go past what it is immediately in focus and see what I find and what I can learn.

And not only in pictures.

Without a doubt, I'll be thankful.

Remembering

I have a little secret to share with you.

I have always enjoyed the television show Little House on the Prairie. My sister will say that she hates the show because I used to make her watch the reruns after school. I don't remember doing that--and anyone who knows Niki knows that she is rarely made to do anything she doesn't want to do!

Little House comes on in the evenings on some channel and I have noticed something. While there are still a few that I like, I don't like them quite as much. I can't really explain why though I think it may have something to do with reading the books a few years ago! The show is, like most shows and movies based on books, loosely based on the book.

There is one show that I remember. Three children have lost their mother--their father had long since died. The voice over of the mother says something like, "Remember me with smiles and laughter. If you can only remember me with tears, don't remember me at all."

Today, on what would have been his 88th birthday, I'm remembering Granddaddy with smiles. In fact, I usually remember him with smiles.

I'm fortunate to have a lifetime of memories to look back on. He was an active part of my life and took the time to make those memories.

The neat thing is that I'm not the only one with memories. Nanny has sixty-six years of memories to smile about today. He had 2 children, each with their own lifetimes of memories to smile about. Each of his 4 grandchildren, each of his 3 great granddaughters, a church family, a community--so many people with memories. So many people that he loved, made memories with. A life well lived.

So today, I'll think about some of the memories. I'll probably even share a few with Gracen. I may even take a nap in Granddaddy's honor (he loved his naps)!

But I'll also think of him now, in Heaven with no pain or disease, and I will be thankful for the life that he lived--and for the life he is living.

Happenings

Summer is officially here!

How do I know?

It's HOT! The fact that it is this hot in early June doesn't give much hope for July and August.

Gracen hasn't had her first trip to the pool yet and, believe me, I have heard about it!

In my defense, I've spent the last 2 days on the couch with what is either yet another sinus infection or a summer cold (two words that very obviously do not go together!). Either way, I've alternated between wanting serious drugs or wanting my head to just go ahead and explode!

Due to the skin cancer, I've also been a littlelot leery of the sun. Sunscreen is about to become my new best friend. I'll have surgery on the 13th--the day before my forty-something birthday. The birthday margarita will happen before the 13th--in fact, there may be several!

Ok, I have a parenting question.

Any thoughts on how to deal with fear in pre-teen age kids? These are fears of the why/what-if variety and seem to have gotten progressively worse since the tornado and the skin cancer diagnosis. She knows that this cancer is fairly simple and is contained. She knows that I am fine. Yet, questions of why and what if plague her, especially at night--and when we are not all together.

Honestly, and to my shame, I haven't been the most patient parent with this. We've talked and in my adult mind that should take care of it. I have apologized to her for my lack of patience and understanding (and I do understand--my genetics gifted her with this). I have repented and prayed for wisdom and patience. I know (and she knows) that I'll screw up again but she also knows that I love her beyond measure and that we will get through this together.

I just wish I had more to offer. The reassurance that it will get better isn't helping the here and now.

Any ideas--and prayers--would be appreciated!

Stay cool!!

Again

When you survive cancer, the last word you ever want to hear again is cancer. For a while you don't want to hear it in conversation—you simply want to forget, even for just a bit, that you had it.

Most cancer survivors aren't lucky enough to forget. They have reminders. A bald head, a missing part of their body, or a body part that just doesn't work as well as it once did. But soon, the fact that you are a cancer survivor weaves itself into the fabric of your life. It is a part of who you are.

But still you don't really want to hear the word again. Certainly not in relation to a loved one though the odds are that you will. And, deep down, every cancer survivor wonders when it will strike again. Every doctor's appointment has a question mark hanging over it.

Cancer is a strange disease. There are some forms that are relatively “simple”--for which we are thankful. There are some forms that everyone knows are worse than others. Yet, even simple ones—the ones with high cure rates and minimally invasive treatments cause that breath sucking moment when it is associated with your name.

I had that moment this week. (This is not an attempt to be overly dramatic or a search for sympathy; just trying to process!) I found out that I have basal cell carcinoma on my nose. It will require outpatient surgery and won't be the most pleasant (or pain free) experience but no more than follow ups will be required afterward.

I am incredibly thankful that it is that simple. I am thankful that treatment looks easy (though this is NOT the way I dreamed of having a nose job). I am thankful beyond words that this particular kind of cancer is contained.

But still. It's cancer. Wrapping my head around the fact that this is the second time in my life has been a little more difficult than I thought it would be. And, honestly, there is a part of me that feels guilty even giving much thought to this when there are many people for whom a diagnosis such as this would be a welcome relief compared with the news they normally hear from their doctors.

There is a fear attached to the very word cancer. No one wants to hear it. No one wants to go through it. There's an unknown associated with not only the disease but sometimes even the treatment. And it is in that unknown that fear thrives.

When the unknown collides with the known, that is a beautiful place. Because the known, the truth, the grace, and the light make sense of the unknown. The fear may still be there, because let's face it some of the things we go through in this life, just aren't pleasant.

Sometimes we need to be reminded that groping through fear in the dark places of our lives actually reveals a much deeper beauty.

This Too Shall Pass

I sometimes read blogs of others—some are in the baby stages (and, can I just kindly ask, what is it with the huge bows perched up on babies' heads?! Bigger isn't always better.) and think how wonderful it is for that family to be soaking up the newness of one so small.

That stage, as fun and challenging as it was, is gone.

I sometimes look at homeschooling moms. The voyeur in me loves seeing the fun experiments, the great new curriculums. Seeing light bulbs go on for your child is an experience like no other. I'm so thankful to have had those years.

I've learned enough to never say never—but, for now, homeschooling is in the past.

I think of friends who have children ready to go to college or be on their own in some other way. They are preparing to parent in a brand new way—not less important or less influential--just different.

Thankfully, there are a few more years before that stage goes by!

Parenting an only child often means that by the time you have actually figured out which stage your kid is in and how to deal with it, your kid is on to a new stage. Kind of leaves the poor ol' parent with a confused look on their face, wondering what just happened!

It also means that you don't have another child coming up behind so you can implement all that you just learned. (Though each stage is somewhat different with each kid, certainly, but there is the hope at least that you are ahead of the game a bit!)

I've thought about this a lot as we have been navigating parenting a pre-teen. I know that growing up is hard—on both the parents and the child. Things shift very quickly. About the time I've figured out where I made the colossal blunder the last time, I realize that I've somehow managed to do it again!

Somehow, though, through it all we all learn. No, as parents, we won't use this knowledge on another child but we will use it again. Every time I learn something about this kid I love with my whole heart, I learn something about myself. Many of her struggles are my own on a younger scale. Many of her fears and doubts are my own—I've just learned to hide them a little better.

Every time I remind her after a tough patch that, truly, this too shall pass. I see with more and more clarity how true that statement is.

It passes in an instant.

My prayer is still that I enjoy every stage that we have but I've also added that I treasure it all—even as we go through it.

Changed

I don't know that there are many people that read this blog that don't live in my city so this may seem a bit repetitive for them.

Our city was hit by a major tornado last week. In that time, I have seen and felt many things that I never thought I would.

The landscape of the familiar has been forever changed. Businesses are gone, homes flattened—even those of us familiar with the area have to get our bearings a bit because many of the landmarks are gone.

I have been through most of the areas hit hardest by the storm. One of the areas was one that Gracen and I drove through every day going to school. We would wave to a group of girls gathered at a stop sign to wait for the school bus most every morning.

The smell of pine permeated the air the first morning we drove through there. Ordinarily, I love the smell of fresh cut wood but this wasn't cut. It was ripped up, twisted, and pulled apart. That smell simply shouldn't be in that area. The stop sign where the little girls stood was bent to the ground. Almost every house was gone—the ones that are left are uninhabitable.

Tears came. I didn't know those girls. I just knew they must have lived in that area. My heart ached for the loss that they surely must be enduring.

Several days later, the K9 units were in that neighborhood with the dogs. I cried again, knowing that at this time, they weren't searching for survivors.

Yet for every time of sadness, there have been tears of gratefulness. Seeing the relief supplies stack up at our church from people who came from many states away and from those who were directly affected by the storm and watching volunteers give selflessly of their time and energy has been simply amazing. And, on personal note, seeing my girl and her friends work organizing supplies has helped me understand that everyone wants to help—and that everyone can help.

There are many in town who were not directly affected by the storm. In all honesty, many of us are directly affected by the inconvenience the storm caused. Some of us don't even know someone directly affected by this storm.

The true measure of this storm isn't in the stories that are told but perhaps in the amount of time those of us not directly affected stick it out to be of help and how many new relationships we form because of this.

Hopefully, in that regard, we will shine.

The Fear Block

For several weeks, I seem to have had a really bad case of writer's block. Not that there wasn't anything to write about because there has been.

My block comes from fear. Not fear of writing, not fear of putting something out there for a few to read—rather fear of acknowledging the thing that has made my hands shake and caused me not to breath deeply for the past several weeks.

Just plain, simple fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what's ahead, fear of how everything is going to be taken care of.

Most of the time I deal with fear by shoring up my strength and steeling myself for whatever may come. Foolishly, I think that I can be strong enough. I don't cry, I don't generally fret, and, even though my bent is to think through every single possible worst case scenario (and have a plan for each), I really don't dwell on the what-if's. Because, you see, I've already thought through all the possible outcomes so I know what I will do. The workings of my warped mind—scary, I know!

We have some things facing us over the next few weeks. Jeff has to have some tests run—absolutely nothing major. My parents are both having minor surgeries that will require some recuperation time. Nanny is still recuperating from her heart surgery and has some good and some bad days.

Jeff's testing has me rattled, honestly. Again, not because of anything major but because it is him. I don't realize sometime just how much of an anchor he is for me. The thought of something, however minor, being wrong with him scares me.

I guess I've just reached the point in all of this of just simply needing to know. The tests need to be over and answers given because the not knowing seems to be the hardest.

Anyone who has family far away knows the next source of anxiety all too well. The feeling of being torn. God placed us in this town, blessed us with a full life, commitments, responsibilities but my family is six hours away.

I struggle with the best way to honor and support my parents. How do I keep them involved in Gracen's life—and her in theirs? How do I practically help them? How do I show them that my heart's desire is to be the daughter they need and the wife and mother they raised me to be?

Sometimes, the fear of not knowing, the fear of not handling something well can prevent me from doing anything at all. Fear is like that, I guess. And, all of my wanting and trying to do it all well isn't enough. The more I want and the more I try, the more immobile I feel.

Honestly, I don't have any answers. I just know that this place isn't where I want to be.

But, for whatever reason, it is where I am.

I don't particularly like the place I'm in right now. I haven't gleaned any monumental truths (yet). I feel alone. But, I have learned not to rely on my feelings during these times. I may feel alone. I may feel rather dark. I may feel fearful.

That isn't truth.

Truth--real, solid, abiding truth--casts a light, albeit sometimes a small one, into the dark and the lonely.

That's what I'm trusting.

Food For Thought

“If I were to walk into your church today, would people see me as a woman, or would they see me as a prostitute?

I did not reply to her somewhat rhetorical question, because I wasn't sure I was proud of the answer. Toos answered with both the mature honesty and compassion she deserved. “Some would see you as a prostitute. But they would be wrong. And it is not how Jesus would see you.”

Annie shook her head resolutely. “No,” she said with conviction, the kind of conviction that only exists when an infinite depth of emotion is attached to it. “The problem with your people is, they tell me I should leave, but they never want to let me forget where I came from either.”

---The Scent of Water by Naomi Zacharias

May we never forget that those who have been given much grace must extend much grace.

And may we never forget that, in His eyes without the shield provided by His Son, we are all prostitutes, hypocrites, murderers, liars, and thieves.

For Thought

I just finished reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts.

If you haven't had the opportunity to check out that book, please do. I will say that her writing style may not be for everyone but there is much in the book that causes deep thought. I found myself reading a section, putting the book aside and reflecting upon that section for a while.

One section, particularly, stood out to me and has had me thinking on it since I read it.

"When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back. (Exodus 33:22-23).

Is that it? When it gets dark, it's only because God has tucked me in a cleft of the rock and covered me, protected, with His hand? In the pitch, I feel like I'm falling, sense the bridge giving way, God long absent. In the dark, the bridge and my world shakes, cracking dreams. But maybe this is true reality: It is in the dark that God is passing by. The bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by. God is in the tremors. Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by. In the blackest, God is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will. Though it is black and we can't see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ is most present to us, I-beam supporting in earthquake. Then He will remove His hand. Then we will look."
--One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp, page 156

Something New

Several weeks ago, Jeff was installed as an elder in our church.

Our denomination (PCA) has both elders and deacons. Each office is called for a specific task. The deacons handle much of the physical oversight of the church property, the finances, benevolence, and much more. The elders are responsible for more of the spiritual oversight. They deal with teaching, counseling, church discipline, shepherding and, again, much more. Perhaps (and probably) it isn't the “best” system of church government because it was, after all, designed by man but it is one of the best, in my opinion.

When Jeff was approached about being an elder, we spent time discussing and praying. We both felt it was an honor but also, and more importantly, a huge responsibility and a privilege for which we both felt so totally unqualified.

You see, we know each other well. We know the ugliness in our own hearts, we know the ickiness that raises its head in our marriage. We know that we try and still fall so short. We don't know even know how sinful we really are.

And yet, in all of that and perhaps in large part because of all that, God led in this direction.

As I sat in the installation service listening to the sermon, I literally wanted to sink into the chair. I know that my husband, loved as he is by me, is a sinner. He knows that I am as well. Marriage has a way of really showing sinful natures (as does parenting but that's a different post!). Yet, he (especially) and me to a lesser degree were being charged with helping others. He was being charged with being a leader in the church. He was being placed in authority over a covenant group of people who were willingly putting themselves under submission of a group of men just as sinful and needy as they are.

I think historically we place our church leaders on pedestals that are not only undeserved but also highly unrealistic. We expect them to be models of virtue instead of the sinful humans saved by grace that they are. They will fail. They will fall short of expectations. So will their wives.

As I sat there, I began to realize that I had chosen to put myself under the authority of our elders. I chose that. I also realized that they had taken on an enormous office that would cost them a lot. The decisions they made would be ridiculed by someone. Their reputations, their families,and their decisions would be called into question.

These men share a huge responsibility not only to their own families but to their larger covenant family as well. That responsibility looms large and daunting. That responsibility will make them shed tears, it will humble them.

And it will be God that enables them to handle all that the office entails. Knowing that is one thing; trusting it is another.

But just as God gives them grace and wisdom to do what He has called them to do, He gives the congregation grace and wisdom to trust and follow that leadership.

And that grace, given, makes all the difference.

Because My Husband Said So

How's that for a title?!

Jeff brought to my attention that I haven't posted anything on my blog in a while. And then he said that he missed reading what I wrote.

I told him he was sweet and didn't think much more about it.

The truth is I haven't been able to write. There is much inside me that needs processing and, generally speaking, writing is as much about processing as it is about creating. Sometimes what I write makes sense and stands the test of some time. Sometimes it doesn't and I find that by the time I'm ready to hit the publish button, I've come to a whole other conclusion about whatever “it” was.

But the writing hasn't come lately. I long since got over putting something up on the blog just to put something up. I'd much rather it be something worth my time to write and hopefully worth someone's time to read.

Here's the real deal. Death changes life—or maybe more truthfully death changes the living. Being with my granddaddy as he took his last breath on this earth was one of the worst and most beautiful things I've ever witnessed. The actual dying part of death reminded me, again, that we are part of a fallen world. Nothing about his death was “easy”. As my parents, sister, and I watched him leave this world, God ushered him into Heaven. And the thought of that, of what he must be seeing and experiencing, that was beautiful. Being there was exactly where I wanted and needed to be and it changed me in ways that I'm not sure I fully understand yet.

Seeing so many people attend his graveside service touched my heart. Friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in years, played a major part in helping our family honor Granddaddy. They comforted and helped us on that day in ways they may never know.

I also learned through all of this that is very possible for a heart to be in 2 places at once. My family and “family” of friends were here, six hours away from me. They provided a lifeline to me several times during my stay. There were messages, emails, and calls. Simply knowing that I was being prayed for by people who know me so well was a comfort.

So, all of that has been swirling through my brain. And it just never has gotten to a point that I felt was coherent enough to write. It still isn't in a real coherent state but I finally came to the realization that it may never be.

I suppose that's ok.

Lessons From the Kitchen Window

The house I grew up in had a kitchen window that faced into our backyard. As my sister and I played, we'd sometimes see Mom in the window. She was doing some kitchen duty and may or may not have been actually watching us. But, it was a comfort to look through the window and see her standing there.

I didn't know until we moved into our home with its own kitchen window facing the backyard how much I wanted one! The light coming into the kitchen changes with every season. And every season it seems to take me by surprise.

There is a large (triple trunked) oak tree just off the porch. It drops a plethora abundance an obscene amount of acorns every year. The squirrels love it. Even Biscuit has been known to have an acorn on occasion. Those of us trying to walk without rolling across the back porch generally don't enjoy them so much!

The acorns bring squirrels, of course. And chipmunks who burrow underneath the porch and disrupt the bricks and whom Biscuit the golden retriever should in theory and by nature chase but is, in fact, relatively useless.

Despite their destructiveness, there is a part of me that really enjoys watching the squirrels. (I am working on an affinity for the chipmunks--when I stop tripping on uprooted bricks it may be easier.) There are a particular three that seem to really enjoy the huge triple trunked tree.

They chase each other around the tree early in the morning while I am getting Gracen's lunch ready. Up and down, around and around.

Then there is the one pictured. He comes around late every afternoon with his acorn in his paws. He sits and munches while I am in the kitchen getting dinner started. I've started calling him Martin.

As I scurry about trying to get some sort of dinner ready, usually with too many things going through my mind to be really focused on any one thing, I occasionally look out at Martin.

For all the busyness that squirrels display throughout the day, playing, gathering, storing those acorns (in the most inopportune places, I might add), he is still in the relative quiet of the yard. He is simply enjoying a meal that was provided for him. He savors it. He rests while he eats--maybe he takes the squirrel equivalent of a few deep breaths.

My mind is rarely still long enough to savor anything. In fact, my mind is usually racing so rapidly and about so many things that I can barely think coherently let alone be still and savor. And even though I think that our life is fairly quiet (and it is by some standards) there are, truly, very few moments of the day when there isn't some form of noise (radio, iPod, etc) to keep me company.

I'm hoping to take a lesson from Martin the squirrel. Relax, enjoy, and savor for a few minutes each day. Take a few minutes to simply be in the quiet. I often look at nature (often from behind the lens of my camera) and wonder at the many lessons God built into His beautiful creation.

Simple lessons that often get missed because we are either so busy or so focused on the big picture that sometimes we miss the small ones.

Processing

I'm staring at the Christmas tree lights struggling to muster up some sort of joy.

The truth is this doesn't feel very joyous and probably won't this year.

Telling our child that her great grandfather has been given months to live was among the hardest things I've ever done. Watching her begin to process her feelings has been even harder. Modeling a grief that practices all the things I've preached to her is more difficult than I expected.

Do I really believe that God is sovereign even in this?

Do I really believe that Heaven is a better place?

Do I really believe that grief can be grace filled and, dare I say it, joy filled?

Yes, in every fiber that is in me. I believe yet I find myself praying that all too familiar prayer: “I believe—help me in my unbelief.”

At 41, I realize how unusual it is to still have 2 of my grandparents living. My maternal grandfather died when I was in 7^th grade. My maternal grandmother died 4 years ago. Nanny and Granddaddy have been fixture in my life.

In my mind, I suppose, Granddaddy has been put on a bit of a pedestal. I know he has faults and, truthfully, that is part of the reason I admire him so. His faults along with all the many good qualities make him uniquely Granddaddy.

He has always fascinated me. I was fascinated from a young age about the fact that he served in some of the heaviest fighting in World War II. I was in awe that he could have been so brave at such a very young age. Now, I know that the man I always thought so brave had a good, healthy dose of fear and would deal with guilt and the horrors of war for the rest of his life.

I remember realizing that he had been afraid and it endeared him to me even more. Despite his fear, he simply did what had to be done.

When I went through cancer, it was Nanny and Granddaddy who drove me to many of my therapy appointments and leg fittings. Granddaddy made it fun. I also heard him say a curse word for the first time when a deer ran in front of us and really messed up the front of my parents' car! Those trips are some of my fondest memories.

He and my Nanny have been married since 1944. Sixty six years. The majority of both their lives have been spent together. I simply can not imagine thinking of saying goodbye to the other half of yourself.

This Christmas will be probably be more subdued than others. I know tears will fall. It is just and good. Maybe there isn't a better time to be thankful for and to celebrate a life well lived, I don't know.

But for now as we process and pray for peace, wisdom, and comfort, I know that I am much more thankful for the baby in the manger and the cross on which He died.

Thankful, I Am

Fall has finally come to our neck of the Southern woods. The leaves have begun changing and falling almost at the same time!

I am enjoying this Thanksgiving season and really
don't want to begin the sprint into Christmas just yet!

I always hesitate to do an "I am thankful for" list
for some reason but here goes....

1) Jeff. The past couple of years have probably been two of the toughest we have had in 17 years of marriage. Through it all, he has continually shown amounts of grace, love, and support that simply amaze me. He has listened when tears and feelings probably didn't make much sense and has always believed that I am stronger and better than I am.

2) Gracen. Oh, the smiles, laughter, and joy she brings to us.

3) Extended family--grandparents, nieces and nephew (only one, right now), sisters, brothers-in-law, great grandparents. Each one is treasured and loved.

4) Friends that are, in many cases, like family.

5) A church home.

6) Books.

7) Flickering lights of great smelling candles.

8) Great music.

9) Conveniences/luxuries. Life could certainly be lived without them but is much simpler with them!

10) Pain. I've had more than I want but so much less than some. And, to be perfectly honest, I didn't want to put this on this list. I am quite simply tired of it. But, because of it, I've learned much.

"Thankfulness is a secret passageway into a room you can't find any other way. It is the wardrobe into Narnia. It allows us to find the rest of God--those dimensions of God's world, God's presence, God's character that are hidden, always, from the thankless." --Mark Buchanan
The Rest of God

Hitting The Wall

Apparently among runners there is a phenomenon that happens called "hitting the wall". Their legs may feel like lead, thought processes become fuzzy, and self doubt creeps in.
Basically, hitting the wall is about running out of energy. Some studies show that the brain, as well as the muscles, also becomes fatigued.

Alrighty then, sure that happens to runners. I am NOT a runner, never have been and, although technology has given artificial limbs that are capable of running, I will probably never be a runner.

I have, however, hit the wall.

Late last week, I began to notice that things just weren't firing right in my head. By the weekend, I honestly wasn't sure I could function. A physical tiredness that I haven't known in a long time settled in for what felt like a very long, uninvited stay.

Being still isn't a strong suit of mine. While there are times when I am physically still, my mind is always going about something. Sometimes this is a great thing--I can usually juggle many balls and get much taken care of.

When the balls come down, it just ain't pretty.

Everything that I had neatly tucked in the back of my mind "to think about later" came crashing in--job/financial anxieties, health issues, family relationships that seem to have no resolution, guilt over not being closer to my family and able to help my parents more. Even my home which is, even with all its flaws, usually an oasis became a glaring reminder of all the things I haven't gotten to yet.

I would love to say that I sat down, read my Bible, prayed, and woke up the next morning feeling better.

I can't. I did pray, well, I wrote and I think God listened but, you know, when you are in a such a place, you aren't really sure.

I played video games, both with Gracen and, umm, all by myself and it felt good to hit and shoot things! (Yeah for Super Mario and Duck Shooting for the Wii!) I threw the ball for Biscuit a lot.

In addition to proper training and diet, one article I read recommended that the runner focus on things associated with the race--running at their own pace, breathing, etc. Another article recommended focusing on things not associated with the race.

I was left incredibly thankful that things are better now. There is a bit of space between me and the wall. But I was also thankful that I am not the one in control of the things or of the wall.

This has no neat, tidy ending (and I am very, extremely, almost obsessively fond of neat, tidy endings). It is an ongoing thing. Some of the things that concern me will never be resolved. Some things will never change.

Hopefully, something or someone will always remind me to be thankful--in all things.

just stuff

No deep thoughts here today--just a bunch of random, strung together tidbits that probably don't make any real sense!

It seems that summer is the time for things to fall apart for us. The dryer quit the other day. Don't know if it is worth trying to fix or better to find a good one on the scratch and dent aisle. If it weren't for the squirrels and the birds in the backyard, I would have a clothes line in a heartbeat!

I found a new recipe blog and, oh my goodness, so many good things here! Among our favorites so far are the chicken enchiladas (which do take a bit of time but are so worth it) and the chicken tequila burgers.

Let's see...Mother's Day. I had a great day with the "fam". My sweet daughter, knowing her mother's affinity for pretty notebooks and organizational things gave me this and these. Many, many lists in my future!

We are embarking on the last stretch of homeschooling, at least for now. I have learned never say never. I am thinking of cleaning out shelves and having a sale--so many books! It is an exciting time but also a bit sad as well. I know that Gracen will love going to school and I am hoping to be involved as well.

There have been some heart struggles lately--just things that I am not quite sure how to resolve or even what my role should be. I've been pondering Ecclesiastes 5:1-2 and 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 for different reasons throughout this. Still no answers on exactly what, if anything, to do but there is much comfort.

Well, I'm off to a full day. Have a happy Wednesday!!