up to date

so, this is really an info-spilling session.  i must say, that altho I appreciate the complexity of the english language, i’m not especially tied to it when it comes to writing blogs and such.  i mean the mere act of having to shift to enter a capital is actually a hindrance to the creative process, so, since i am already hindered with other things like lack of sleep, i’m going with the lower case tonight.

the girls spent day two at royal ridges camp, then after i picked them up we spontaneously stopped to play in the lewis river under the 503 bridge for awhile.  very refreshing!  should’ve probably had dry clothes to change into before i stopped to purchase depends for my father at fred’s.  i’m sure the clerk thought ‘oh no, it’s too late’ but that’s okay cuz i knew the truth.  was a pretty funny thot tho.

hubby was super sick all day.  kinda grumpy, too.  are all guys kinda grumpy when they’re sick?  anyway, it started out to be a fairly routine week, but with the sick bug landing here, it’s been a bit more frustrating.  trying to get organized for colville – very exciting event to look forward to; trying to stay on top of things for the girls’ camp (they have to wear the same shirt all week, you know – which means laundry every evening – nothin’ but fun), taking dad to get his hair cut, learning more about qb (that’s quickbooks) for our new business, which by-the-way is where dave is working this week – at a job we got off craigslist – gotta love craigslist! – hoping to finish before saturday when we leave for colville, but with his being sick today and losing his 2 workers tomorrow….well, the Lord is sovereign and knows what’s up, so we are just praying for Him to work everything out.

oh yeah, and another out-of-the-routine thing – my son got engaged last week to a beautiful young lady, so plans are in the whirlwind, as they are planning a late sept. wedding.  for those of you who don’t know, i’m talking about zack & jessica seifert.  i must say, jess, i am looking forward to getting to know you better – i think we probably have more in common than merely the z-man.   (i love your blog)   )   altho z’s a pretty cool thing to have in common – albeit he’s quite uncommon – and that’s most definitely a compliment.  wouldn’t you agree?

so, cali is putting little jacky to bed while ry is using the potty one last time.  he calls mom, can you help me in here, so she comes in and finds him sitting on the toilet reading a lego pamphlet (he’s only almost-5 after all).  is he a guy, or what?  it was too funny!  jack got his staples pulled out last friday.  he’s such a strong little thug-boy.  never flinched an inch.  God sure blessed me with terrific grandsons!  it’s very special fun to be a gramma.

sleep.  interesting phenomenon.  would like to get some more.  hmmm. not on craigslist.  maybe amazon?  how about someone humming a little lullaby.  my mom used to sing old man river and slowpoke and it would put me right out.  and when i first moved up to portland (a hundred years ago – it seems) i would fall asleep listening to kink, when they’d have jazz after 10.

let’s see, did i bring y’all up to date?  either that or you read this far with hopes i’d actually write something worth reading.  either way, g’night. and God bless.

family in faces

We have been reveling in our new canon of the digital era. ENJOY!

lions & tigers & blogs, oh my!

It’s a like – dislike relationship. Not really a love – hate thing. Although I desire to write, I sit staring at a blank screen, like someone has drained the words right out of my head. I suppose I’m what some may call ‘old-school’ (others just call old). It’s the paper and pen way or the highway. My creativity lies somewhere between my knuckles and the tip of the pen where the ink flows out. Not much seems to flow when I’m facing a screen.

Anyway, the first birds of the morning are singing and instead of waking, I’m typing. Some folks blog the happy things that go on in their lives from day to day, with pictures and clever captions etc. It seems my writing takes a more introspective approach – whether I want it to or not.

I drove my father back from the ER. Getting old and losing control of your bodily functions, including some of your brain functions, just isn’t the way I want to go. Watching my dad go through all this unreal stuff, I know the Lord is walking with me, and I pray with him. It’s like trying to balance a train car on my fingertip – this cry or no cry show. I’m tired and weak I know He is awake and strong. But what do I do now? I am so afraid of making the wrong decision, I sometimes tend to not make decisions if I don’t absolutely have to. Things just seem to fall into their right place anyway.

Why are we afraid of what others might think? Or how come we fear what we don’t know? Slow down cowgirl, one at a time. I used to shop at the Salvation Army in Medford. They always had the coolest stuff. I bought this awesome coat for $2 one time. It was black velvet with a fuschia satin lining. It was big, had a black velvet bow in the back and went down almost to my ankles. A very cool coat. That was back in high school. I wore it for years. The lining tore (it was thin to begin with) and it was too costly to replace, so I reluctantly passed it on. Same with this suit from the forties, I think. A wonderful cabernet color, with oval buttons on the snug jacket, and a velvet lapel. Velvet was big then , I guess. The slender skirt was mid length with a pleated kick panel. I think it made me look taller. This was in the early 70’s. I don’t think retro was ‘in’, but I didn’t care. Then I went beserk and went through a phase (very short lived) where I wanted to conform. I tried to dress like the style of the day. I felt like a monkey in a tutu. It was too much trouble, too much time and too much money. And, go figure, I looked just like everyone else. Ugh! After that, comfort was my personal designer. Maybe that’s why I still wear 501s.

Perfect loves casts out fear. I marvel at the influence in my life of God, Himself, way before I acknowledged or understood His presence there. His love cast out that fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what others might think. (See they are tied together.) Knowing for certain and without one doubt, that my Savior, God Almighty is in full control of everything…..well, that’s the most secure feeling in the world. If God is for us, who can be against us?

So I blog. On the keyboard. In front of the screen. Knowing that someday these silly little words will all go whirling off into the dark hole anyway. But that my soul will be with Christ forever.

A darkness

It’s an avalanche. I’m sliding down the slope and at first, it’s a thrill – a rush, maybe, then I fall and roll into the deepness of the cold snow, moving downward ever faster. More snow falling, more large chunks of the cold, wet burdens falling over me, around me, on me. I can only gasp for air at times and there is no rest. My body aches. My mind swirls. Will I live? How do I get out from under all this? How do I make it stop? It has to stop! I can’t breathe! I can’t think a light thought. The weight is hard, heavy on me; carrying me, pushing me downward, downward. More chunks. More burdens. Heavy burdens. I cry out, but no sound comes from my mouth. Who would hear anyway? I just think I’m crying out now. Thoughts converge on me like pigeons on the last crust. O God, make it stop. Make me still. Calm the raging storm within – without.

Too long I’ve put the glove on and cleaned up the mess, then turned the glove mess-side-in, put it on again and acted like nothing was wrong. All the while the dirty mess was on the inside: festering, rotting, stinking….and now, oozing. Who was I – am I – trying to fool? Myself, I guess. Certainly not God. Maybe you. The kids? Certainly not myself. I’ve always known. I feel the mess inside constantly. I know it’s there. I suppress it when it begins to ooze out little by little. Leaking, sneaking out almost unnoticed. I mash it back in. Why? I don’t like the mess. The smell. The time it takes to clean it up, purify it. Make it better. Make it right. You either and that’s not healthy or good or right. But then the avalanche roars…

Side 2

Too depressed to write, think, move about meaningfully with a purpose, prepare food, be logical or practical, obey.

Not too depressed enough to write, though, it seems, until now. I find release through ink on paper. Some release, like the poison dripping down and into my writing hand and flowing out the pen tip with each new heavy stroke. With every jot. Every tittle. Poison ink infecting the paper now. But somehow its porousness is perfect for soaking in the poison, but not letting it run back out – it dries quickly. This poison ink, like a stone statue, is immortalized on the lines of the yellow writing pad; my victim of choice. The letters up and down, scratchy and wiggly, trying to slither free, but stuck like superglue – no longer infecting my soul – now out in the open and dead. Sprawled out on the paper. Harmless ever more. Like an alien who can’t breathe our oxygen. Dead. Lifeless. Harmless. And now useless.

In the darkness of late night/early, early morn. It mostly happens then. In the quiet, when the silent clock still ticks too loud and I am compelled to stifle it under the pillow across the room. But God preserved the others. He clamped my heart all day today, and would not let the poison out….to spill out through other means than ink, like words, and infect others. God knows. That must suffice for now. The truth that He knows.

it’s late and i can’t sleep – again

contentment is…………………chumming on frosted animal crackers and blue boar after midnight while the heat from the woodstove wanders into the office and puts the chill to rest. laughter really is good medicine…..along with the f.a.c. and b.b. sometimes i just can’t seem to figure out where i fit in. or that i even want to fit in. actually, i don’t ever really fit in, and that’s about where i want to be. not that i’m a “loner”, but you know, dottie, if the speedo fits, wear it. sometimes i think i’m like paul, sort of a when in rome thing; but other times i’m like ike, standing on the outside peering in, knowing they aren’t going to let me in, but staying where i can keep my eye on them anyway.

i never had a best friend in school. i just sort of knew everyone. i liked to be the funny one, cuz making people laugh was, well, good medicine……….for me. growing up without a dad around, i lived with an emptiness left by the lack of a father’s affection. then i went on the search. i found some rather shoddy substitutes for that four-letter-word some of us have gone looking for in all the wrong places. not knowing how to relate to, first off, myself. then to my Creator. then to anyone else who I happened upon. the bottom line here is that God knows me from the beginning. all beginnings. He is my Father. my loving Father. my trustworthy Friend. He will never leave me or forsake me. He helps me to laugh at myself when i need to. it’s a good thing. a secure thing. a slice of contentment.

beginnings

i have a good friend i’ll call ju, who is a fabulous writer and invited me to join this blog. i’m stealing a title of hers – beginnings. we all have them, you know. i used to want a new one every day, but then i realized the difficulty in that, so now i just thank the Lord for whatever He gives me. i am a new beginning…..in Christ. what a fun ride this has been, this life stuff – i speak for today. other days i’m not so certain. other days i can barely get out of bed to face the day. i have learned (and am learning) to be content in all things. without God, what’s the point. with God, well……He is certain when i am not. so here is another beginning, ju. we are starting another blog. i look forward to sharing this experience with you. i am thankful to have stepped, again, into this wor(l)d.

may God get the glory for any and all.