To-do Too-Doo Tooo-dooo

Peace and quiet, that's what I'm hoping for today. I have learned to not bank on things hoped for, especially the little things like a day of peace and quiet, but one can always hope and plan. 

(Plans are meant to be disrupted. Why else would you have kids?)

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. Proverbs 19:21

Laundry, maybe some cooking ahead for the week. Sorting through a giant pile of coats, formerly belonging to Capt but he doesn't need them anymore. They'll go to #2 Son, who'll see to it they are distributed to people who can make better use of them than I would. There's still laundry on the floor from last week, clean but I didn't feel like doing anything with it but I needed something from the bottom of the basket and frankly, I didn't feel like folding it and so what. It's my house/life and if I don't want to fold laundry then I won't. To-do to-do dee doo.

All that said, and the sub-surface whining voice that said it, I am attempting to re-start. I've managed to establish a couple of new habits since Capt's passing on, so I know it can be done. I want to set up a couple more, then perhaps eventually get to a place where my life looks like it is approximating one of a person who may actually have a bit of her sh*t together. This place is a mess and I don't want it to be ("place" being more of a metaphysical one than the actual abode...though that's a mess too.)  

That people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me; I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness; I make well-being and create calamity; I am the Lord, who does all these things.  Isaiah 45:6-7

One step at a time, one day at a time.  One of the things my wise-beyond-his-years youngest said was that he is taking his life right now as it comes. Not being foolish with it, but he has figured out that God provides what he needs when he needs it (a job, a place to live, the help he needs) and he's learned to trust Him with all that. It's hard for me to grasp that. BUT YOU NEED A PLAN. WHAT ABOUT SCHOOL?  No, Mom, right now I need a roof over my head, a way to buy food, and to get that car fixed so I can have a way to get around. Priorities, he has them.

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34

That has made me realize that what I need to to take things a day at a time and not let Life overwhelm me. God has seen to it I have a roof, food, a car, and friends. I don't need to decide right now what I'm going to do next year, even how I intend to live out the next 45 years. I need to decide what I am going to do today. That's all. It's enough.  

The new habits, though, the concepts behind them, there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, they give me a certain feeling of control I haven't had for a while. When Capt died, and I couldn't do anything about it, I kind of felt like everything flew apart. Same thing happened when Himself died. All those plans, wishes, expectations, all flew right out the window and I thought NOW WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO. For a control freak like myself, that was disconcerting. I don't like disconcerting. But the couple of new habits I've been able to develop are ones that are simple day-starting and mind-organizing strategies that have allowed the day to begin focused on what matters, which then allows me to take the unexpected (pipes bursting, can't take a shower, where's the box of pipe fittings) and see them for what they are...inconveniences, not tragedies. Not only that, opportunities for a couple of people in my life to do what they love to do...help someone, fill a day that may have been sad for them and do a good deed. (Thanks, Dad and #3!)

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7

Merry Christmas, Capt

Dear Capt,

Merry Christmas in Heaven, love! Every day you are right there in the thick of it, celebrating your redemption and the full-on love of Christ. What an incredible gift! You are fully released from the aggravation of being human. I'm so happy for you!

I got some great pics from A and D in the Bahamas....D is wearing your crocs, I know you approve! You are there with them in spirit, and they are remembering you fondly, with steaks and crocs and warm beaches. You'd be so proud of them! 

It's been stupid cold here. Frozen pipes, all the fun stuff. Fortunately, there's people here who can deal with it. I know if you were here, it wouldn't have happened because you'd have known how to prepare. I'll know next time. You know me, I learn through experience and mistakes. I'm glad you're not having to deal with all this. You get to sing and walk a warm beach with your bare feet, and stand in God's warm glory. I am so happy for you! (I said it before and I'll keep saying it. I am so happy for you!)

Love, I miss you. I miss your loud voice and your room-filling presence and your stupid crocs everywhere. I miss your opinions and your company on the front porch in the evenings, commenting on the birds and squirrels and plans for the future. I miss your clothes on the floor next to the laundry basket and the way you'd make up the bed in the morning. The surprise package in the mail- a new cookbook or plant or yet another pair of crocs in some design that caught your eye. The reading glasses that matched the crocs...and how you would get testy when I called your fashion sense "quirky". 

Honey...crocs and reading glasses that match qualifies as quirky. When they both match the boat...I mean...c'mon. 

and yes. I miss all that but you can have all the crocs you want that match the boat. Do you even wear shoes in Heaven? Or need reading glasses? I know you have a boat. You're happiest in a boat, with a Boykin riding along. Miss E is your fishing partner now. Good for you! 

All that said, I miss you. I know you're where you always wanted to be, especially that last 6 months when you were so sick and depressed. I am so thankful you've been released from all that. Really I am. But, I miss you today. I wish you were the one here to keep the pipes from freezing, and fixing the issues that come up. I wish you were the one to say Christmas isn't that big of a deal, why don't we go to the beach instead.  

But, you're not. You're doing more important things. I'm actually pretty much ok. Dad's going to make pancakes if I can blow Eli out of bed. I'm going to plaster on a smile and be thankful for the people I have here. I'm going to think about the wonderful times you and I had, and be thankful for those memories. 

5 short years, you and I had. Not always blissful, but always interesting. 3 fabulous years of adventure and learning, 1 year of COVID bullshit, and 9 months of WhattheHeckisGoingOn doctors visits and, honestly, misery. You couldn't help that. I don't blame you at all. God knows what He's doing and something good will eventually come of it. Through all of it, I loved you, and still do. So...

Merry Christmas in Heaven, love. Enjoy the sand, sun, and Glory.

Joy to the World, y'all

 I'm doing kinda sorta Christmassy stuff. Cookies and all. Looking up cheeseball recipes (as if you really need a recipe for that). I don't feel any regret for not getting more into it all, more a sense of relief for having no guilt over the lack of culturally mandated Christmas Cheer. Normally, when I don't do something the way I expect myself to, I get guilty about it. The personal expectations are really much higher than everyone else's. Maybe it's age. At 57, caring what others think about (whatever) has gone by the wayside. Now? A little bitty Christmas tree, and a warm blanket. That's all that's needed around here. 

That said, I am baking cookies today. Good ol' All-American Toll House cookies are cooling, and soon I'll start Oatmeal of the Quaker Oats- From-the-Back-of-the-Box cookies. Only I add more spice to them. And nuts. I believe in nuts in my cookies. There's also got a can of pumpkin that is looking for a recipe in which to participate. That will require some research. It's fun, this cookie making. They'll all go to assorted sons and their housemates. Goodness knows I don't need them. A couple of cookies with the afternoon cup of coffee and that's it. But the Assorted Sons like them, and it's probably a safe bet they aren't making them. The house sure smells good.

I found a good looking cheeseball recipe, ripe for alterations. Recipes, in this house, are merely suggestions. All I need are the proportions of cream cheese to shredded cheese, and the rest is flexible. Why a cheeseball? Because it's not really Christmas without it. And they're tasty. They're so....I dunno....AMERICAN. Like cocktail wieners in a crockpot, or 7 layer bean dip. Simply yummy stuff, but not fancy or intimidating. No fancy charcuterie or butter board here. Nope. 

Another favorite are cheese straws. I use my great grandmother's recipe, and since I can't recall it right off the top of my head, you'll just have to believe me. Flour, butter, and cheese. Kind of like shortbread cookies only cheese instead of sugar. Roll the dough into a log, and roll the log in something pretty like minced parsley or paprika. If you're brave, ground cayenne. Chill for a while. Slice them into coins and bake. Those things can be problematic because...baked cheese. So good.

I'm not too worried about the whole Joy Joy Christmas Spirit thing. My kids are all grown, and doing their lives, as they should. I reflect on the miracle of Jesus' birth, and why it all happened. What an incredible gift that was/is/ever will be. It's freezing cold today and I have a warm home, a nice smelling candle, a dog who's impatient about getting on the couch, and enough coffee. I had a lovely conversation with my oldest son, and have plans to get the youngest tomorrow. The best part of right now...all my kids are cared for, have roofs over their heads and food on the table. 

The truth of the matter is this...I am blessed beyond all anything I could ever earn. I will see all of my children in Heaven, for eternity....and there is NOTHING better than that. I will see Himself, Capt, my grandparents, parents, all the people who matter to me the most. The sense of relief that comes with that assurance is...well. There's no appropriate word for it. Joy to the World, indeed.

Stream of consciousness

The Setting: The living room of a small house in East Alabama. It's a wintery-cold day, grey and rainy but not committed enough to actually snow.  I'm ensconced on the sofa, heating pad behind me, thick blanket pulled up to my chest. The small, scruffy dog is buried under the blanket, pressing against my left thigh. I forced him to go outside a few minutes ago, and he's pouting. On the table to the right is a stack of partially read books, a jar of pens, a freshly refilled cup of coffee, and a plate of recently re-discovered banana muffins. They've been toasted and buttered.

Sounds pretty idyllic, no? It is. I know that. I am blessed beyond reason. I have a list of reasons to quit feeling sorry for myself, that gets recited when the pity-party becomes egregious. There's the standard stuff- roof over my head, food to eat, the material things that make life comfortable and easy. Chances are, if you're reading this, you enjoy the same things. It's easy to take them for granted, when you have them daily, when you don't have to worry about the next meal, clean water, or a place to live. Complacency is a way of life for a lot of us. Our worries involve other things. The health of a loved one. Our jobs next year. Relationships. 

I was chuckling to myself yesterday. I have this project going right now. I'm going to put shelves up on a big blank wall in my living room. I want my books out. They're my friends and I want to see them. I know some of you understand what I'm saying here. Anyway, part of that means brackets. I spent time yesterday putting up the brackets where I *thought* (key word there...*thought*) I wanted them. Then an hour or so spent looking at them and being dissatisfied. Too close, too busy, yuck. So they were removed and spread further out (after consulting with a building site on how far apart was too far, for the type of shelf) Ok, better. And now there's a BUNCH of BIG holes in the wall, from the former bracket location. I am not disturbed by them, but I know a couple of men, both of whom I've had a very close relationship, who would have had a litter of kittens over the wall damage. Pfft, I thought. That's what spackle is for. A bit of spackle, a dab of paint, and no one will be the wiser and if I don't even do that much, there will be books in front of the holes. The wall is a hot mess, but I'm happier with the spacing of the brackets (also, based on the location of the studs. I'm a ditz but at least I know that much)

One of my sons will be here (from Atlanta) Christmas weekend. I imagine the one who lives 10 miles away will also show up at some time. The other Atlanta son will (Lord willing and the creek don't rise) be here the following weekend. It will be good to spend time with them even though they were here just a couple of weeks ago. Right now, in my season of grief, I can't get enough of time with them. It's such a comfort, especially since Capt loved them so much, like they were his own. I hope it's sunny/clear enough, and the wood is dry, so we can have a fire in the firepit. There's something about doing that. No one complains when they're sitting around a warm fire, especially if their bellies are full of something delicious. 

Christmas Eve is Dad's birthday. He'll be 86, going on 45. When I can, I cook a good meal and it double-duties as his Birthday and Christmas Dinner. That gets me out of having to do anything Christmas Day. This year, I'm planning on doing a Thai curry and rice. He'll like that. In the distant past, when Himself was alive, I would spend the week prior to Christmas making all sorts of snacky stuff, like cheese balls and homemade crackers, dips and sauces and things to heat up in a crockpot. A big pan of homemade cinnamon rolls would be made the night before, to rise in the fridge, and go in the oven first thing. We would snack and graze all day, playing with new toys and games, just fiddling around in our pajamas and doing very little in the way of work. Now, I have no idea what I'll do. Maybe a cheeseball and crackers. I asked Dad to make pancakes Christmas morning, and we'll walk over there. After that, I don't know. We're all adults now, so I'm not sure it matters. Christmas wasn't a big thing for Capt. It has become more about worship, and gratitude for Christ's birth, than anything resembling a cultural norm, for me. 

Isn't it interesting how life forms around the circumstances of the Now. When you're 35 and everything feels settled, you think it's always going to be that way and let's make some traditions. Sometimes those traditions get blown out of the water and you have to adapt to new circumstances. I have tried, in my own way, to keep a couple of my favorite ones going. Whenever we have made a special trip somewhere, a dive trip to Roatan, a week in Key Largo, 10 days on Route 66...I get a commemorative Christmas ornament. I have so many memories tied to a bauble to hang on a tree. Right now, it hurts too much to bring those out. They are in a couple of boxes in the attic. Last year was the first time since Himself's demise that I could look at all of them, the ones my kids made in 2nd grade, memories of assorted trips and events going back to 1986. It was the first time I could combine all of them, from 1986 to 2021, with joy and smiles, without longing and grief. The tree was loaded with those memories and I could tell the story behind each one of them. It was both comforting and poignant. This year, I couldn't even unpack the box. Even thinking about it was a hard NO. Sitting here on my couch, with a silly dog under the blanket over my knees, thinking about it all, I know eventually I'll return to being able to do the stuff that developed over 35+ years of relationship. But for now, I'm ignoring it and working on being able to thank God for what I had, instead of being grieved for what I no longer have. 

(and yes, this post is a little bit stream-of-conscious, but that's the mood I'm in right now)

Right now I'm working on figuring out my place in the world. What are God's intentions for me, how will I recognize them and properly act on them? Why am I here, in this position? I fill the time doing small things. Punching holes in walls while improperly hanging brackets. Patching a friend's pajamas. Eating a muffin. When Himself died, it took about 9 months to get my feet under my legs and start doing a thing. I have plans for Spring, about 8 months after Capt's passing away. Nothing much before then, just little things, busy work. Shelves, sewing, Thai curries. Things that are comfortingly familiar that don't require a whole lot of thought. It is a massive blessing from God that I have the luxury to be able to manage life that way. I am grateful.

Fear Not

 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  John 14:27

Repeat after me: Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid

I woke up this morning overwhelmed and yes, afraid. So much to do. So overwhelming. So long to live, and alone. 

Oh i know, I don't actually KNOW how long I'm going to live, no one does. But based on the metrics, on grandmothers and great grandmothers who lived to 100, an aunt who's 80 and going strong, all those long-lived family members...chances are I'm only a hair over 1/2 way through my life and THIS IS NOT HOW I PLANNED IT.

Lots of things go through my mind....

What if I fall and break my back and no one knows?

What if I choke on my own spit?

What if (insert improbable but not impossible weird scenario)?

What if I live the rest of my life wrapped in a cocoon because I'm afraid of what if?

 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7

Is that what God wants from me?  To live like the servant who buried the coins because he was afraid of losing them, instead of investing them like the other guys, or to be fearless, trusting His plan for me and live well for His glory?

Who is making me afraid, anyway? Not God, that's for sure. He's the one who tells us to step out there and take a risk.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”    Joshua 1:9

When I read things like that, my brain says "yeah, but He was talking to Joshua, not you." Then I think "yeah, but actually He kinda was talking to me, because God's concepts are eternal and universal."

Being a loner, alone, when you're not used to it, is scary. It just is. There's no backup in a crunch. 

A couple of days ago I spent some time with a friend, who's also widowed. We discussed the advantages...not having to run anything by anyone else, like what or when to eat, when to go to bed or get up, what to watch on TV.  Then she called me last night to say she'd wrenched her back and wouldn't be at church. "I'm going to spend the day in my recliner, with heat on it." she said. And the thing is, she's not a quick-to-bounce-back 50-something. She's in her 80's. How much worse is it for her to be alone, in her head, than for me? What am I whining about? What if she'd fallen and couldn't get up? She's got an Apple watch that calls 911 if she's in a real pickle. She told me she refused to get a Help I've Fallen And I Can't Get Up necklace because those are embarrassing, and she's got better things to do than act like a scared little old lady. (maybe I should get a watch like that) 

I woke up like this, afraid and overwhelmed. Have you ever noticed how things are worse when it's dark? It  was 5:45am and dark. So I got up, hoping a hot cup of coffee and solid plans to go to church would help. So far, so good, although there is a residual nugget of Help Me! sitting in there. Sunlight, a bellowing wren on the front porch, and some Christmas music from the church choir will help. 

I'll be OK. I know God's got all this in hand. 

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. Proverbs 19:21

The Holy Spirit is right here, offering comfort and consolation, and freedom from fear.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.  2 Corinthians 3:17  

Jesus took care of the big important stuff a couple thousand years ago and for the last month we've been remembering and celebrating His willingness to meet us where we're at by becoming a man.

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, Hebrews 2:14

I've been told that Scripture can be used to comfort and allay fears. This is true. Going through all them, (and I know I threw up a bunch here), reminds me that, in the grand scheme of things, everything's going to be ok. Yes. I have fears, uncertainties, confusion, and I can be very whiney. But it's all going to be ok. 

First Step

This Time (UGH)...I'm recovering from the shock faster. Thankfully. Last Time (UGH), it was many months before I could breathe, eat, think...I slept all the time because it was easier than facing the royal mess that came from Himself's lack of a will and a bunch of unresolved debt. Scary stuff, that was, and I was wholly unprepared for any of it. 

This Time (UGH), I have to say it's been much smoother. I almost said easier but that's not really the case. Just...different. Capt had a will. He'd set me up on all the financial stuff so I could know exactly what was what with no surprises. He talked to people about the sale of his stuff, of which I had no use (boat, fishing gear, etc). It's all gone very smoothly and that has made the whole thing so much easier to bear. Thank you, Capt, for that final amazing gift. 

Now I am doing the things he told me to do. He was very firm about it. Oh sure, I could ignore his order (and that's what it was, not a polite request) and go do my thing and he'd be none the wiser...or if he did know, he's too busy being fully restored to bother with the likes of me. But no, his request/order was a sensible one...still is. So I am doing it. 

"Go see the world" he said. "I want you to use the money to travel. Fill up your passport." He knew it was a dream of mine, and he has made it possible. And to that end, I'm making plans, and not just "oh wouldn't it be nice to see (enter some other country)" Nope. Yesterday I got with a friend via text (what an amazing thing that is). I got online to a hotel in... (Wait for it....) Barcelona, Spain! My friend requested The Good Room- that overlooks this Gaudi-designed cathedral, WITH breakfast included. I am not a Good Room kind of person. I'm a Cheap Room person, with granola bars and bananas for breakfast. Then I thought about Capt. He also was a Good Room person, and thought granola bars were gross. So, I held my breath and reserved The Good Room. Then I thought about how amazing a morning in Spain will be with good coffee on the balcony, amazing view and all. Thank you, Capt, for showing me it's OK sometimes, to get the Good Room. And thank you, friend, for reminding me of that. So here we are, scheduled for a Springtime trip to Spain....10 days worth! What a...wow. I'm doing it. The mind boggles. I'm actually DOING IT.  A  REAL THING. 

This is it! The hotel looks out at this!

I'll figure out where to go next after that. I have a list. 

Northern Lights in Iceland.

Whiskey in Scotland

Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem

Paella in Portugal

Prague

(no particular order)

Honestly, the hardest part of doing a new thing, for me, is getting started. It's like I have to make the step and be assured I won't implode, but once that first step in made, I'm ready. I can do it. The decision is the hardest part. 

So now, I'm going to brush up on Spanish so I don't say "My grandmother is a banana" when I need to use the facilities. It could happen.

Wish me luck. 

Alone but not alone.

Mornings are rough. They just are. I am an early riser, around 5:30am. I wake up around 4:30 but can't bring myself to act like an Amish Dairy Farmer so I lay there until the coffee maker lets me know it's finished with it's O So Vital work, and I can pour a cup without delay. Capt said I was addicted. He was right but it also means I don't growl at anyone (especially him, I was quick to point out) first thing. But first thing in the morning also means dealing with back pain (whatever, there's worse things), and the only one to whine to is a dog who just glares at me for getting him up. If I'm up then so is he. He's a dog. I'm the boss. That's all there is to it. 

There's 2 times a day that are particularly lonely...first thing, and last thing. Himself worked a lot so I was accustomed to days on my own, or filled with child-related tasks. Mornings and nights had a person with me. Capt was retired so I had all day with him, with the exception of the days he was teaching (scuba diving). That last year he was unable to teach so was always here. Then WHOOSH. Gone. My companionship now is in the form of a 12 year old dachshund and a giant pile of books. All I need now is a mob-cap and a cane to shake at strangers and I'll be a widow from an Elizabeth Gaskell novel. Ugh. 

See? Like this...

...have you ever watched Cranford? Amazing short series about a village full of meddlesome widows...wry and funny

This morning it hit me slightly harder than previous mornings...the solitude. I was making a list of chores, getting ready for a visit from my brother and the fancy-pants meal I'm sure will be concocted...that always happens. We are, shall we say, fairly competitive in the kitchen. He said he was bringing a pile of Artisan Veg from his local Farmer's Market, and I went into overdrive thinking of ways to craft a delicious meal, knowing full well he probably already has something in mind. 

But making that chore list, and knowing there wasn't anyone else to interject, or tell me "your list is too long, take off (this and that)" and then my stomach grumbled and there wasn't anyone to tell me to get some breakfast...which I know sounds strange but I don't feel like eating much and would rather just drink a glass of water. Meals aren't any fun when there's no one to share.

Dangit I dislike being on my own. I have been daily asking God to walk next to me, and I know He is. I don't ask for anything for tomorrow, really, because today is what's here and when I need some help. Something about tomorrow taking care of itself. 

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.  Matthew 6:34

So, one more time, I'm going to grit my teeth and smile, thank God for another day, and plow ahead. I'll keep on talking to Him, because He's there, here, everywhere. 

Of plumb bobs and an ox

 “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in Zerubbabel’s hand”  Zechariah 4:10a

This was a verse used in a reading from this morning. Holy Mackerel, I thought. Yes indeed. While I wasn't sure exactly where there were Biblical words that said what I was thinking, there they are. In actual words from one of God's prophets. I love it when that happens. (I don't know why this paragraph won't line up right  like the rest of them. Oh well.)

You see, since around 1993, when I received a diagnosis of a lifelong mental illness for which I would always need medication (PILLS! How insulting!), I decided the best way to handle the situation was to look at it as something to learn from, rather than as a dis-something...disorder, disease, what-have-you. An educational experience of sorts. an "Ok God, what am I meant to do with this?" kind of thing. It was a way to handle it and dispose of the potential despair. And it did, help that is. Oh sure, it was a fairly painful process. I was initially deeply insulted that there was something wrong with this part of me for which I was super proud. It was as if God said "Stop it, You don't get to be proud of it anymore." and the insult was gone, replaced by a humility that said "now you're like everyone else you looked down on" (gaaah what a jerk I was!). God took a thing people would call "bad" and used it for something good. It's a lot easier to be nice to people when you aren't looking down your nose at them. 

When Himself died, I used the same approach. "What am I meant to learn from this?" That kept me from despair, along with the solid knowledge that he was released from the frustrations of this world and in Heaven, able to sing in tune and probably swapping woodworking ideas with Jesus. What a happy thought! Yes, I missed him and still do, but knowing I'll see him again, that it's "see you later!" and not "Goodbye" is a comfort beyond measure. But other than that, I'm not entirely sure what, exactly, I'm meant to do/learn with the experience. 

And Grief 2.0 with the passing of Capt, what am I meant to learn? Capt's fishing with Peter now, standing barefoot (he hated shoes) on a sunny beach with Jesus, swapping ideas, probably laughing with Himself over the ridiculous things I've done, rolling their eyes about my flannel shirts and hiking boots. (When's she going to learn to dress like a girl?)  But what am I supposed to do with the stuff I've learned from my relationship with him? I DON'T KNOW (yet).  I'm still working through losing him here. I'm still trying to stop crying every time I talk about him or think about something we did together. I still have to keep tissues handy when I'm writing here. (*sniff)

BUT...thanks to Zechariah, and a plumb bob (actually all about the building of the Temple)...I know God's building something here. Not sure what, yet, but something. And God does good things. He's a master builder. He knows what He's doing even if I don't. It may take my entire life to figure it out. I may never know exactly what He's doing, but that's ok. Does an ox know where the driver is taking him? Nope, he just trusts the driver and plods along. That's me, plodding along, stepping in the mud and grumbling about it, but still plodding. 

Literally OBSESSED

 Ok, I dislike words that are, shall we say, INTENSE, unless the situation genuinely calls for it. Words like literally, horrifically, OBSESSED. That's the adverb du jour...OBSESSED. And it must be said in ALL CAPS because, y'know...OBSESSION is an intense situation. It implies that you're constantly thinking, dwelling on, to the exclusion of doing anything else. It's taking over your LIFE. 

I see ads...Olivia Wilde is OBSESSED with a certain cosmetic serum that makes her look younger (it doesn't, actually...but who am I to argue with a celebrity. We all know they know more than the hoi polloi.) Bless her heart, how does she even work if she's busy thinking about an oily liquid all day?  There's an ad that pops up on my facebook, for these scented laundry pods, and some testimonial says the person is OBSESSED with them. Again, bless his/her heart, that he/she can't function due to a detergent. I see ads and statements all over, of people being OBSESSED with the strangest things...a type of bra, a flavor of coffee, an item of some random and not-very-necessary item. How sad that they can't function because of it.

There's some poor person who can't function because of these things.

See, a while back, the Word Du Jour was HORRIFIC. It was used for all sorts of not-very-horrific situations. I use it for things that are life-altering in a huge way. Even the deaths of Himself and Capt, I wouldn't classify as HORRIFIC. Yes, difficult and unpleasant, but no body parts were mangled, no one went to prison after a long and messy trial (or even a short one...no one went to jail at all.) Lives were altered, to be sure, but not HORRIFICALLY so...just sad and God-directed. I remember a conversation with someone who'd been detained at an airport, taken to a room and questioned, then released. She didn't miss a flight, or lose anything. It was described, by her, as HORRIFIC. When I asked if she'd lost anything major, like her life or passport or a body part, she got kind of huffy. Probably because I didn't sympathize with the ordeal. I've also been detained, separated, and searched. I didn't worry about it since I knew I wasn't carrying contraband 6 ounce jars of chocolate sauce (another story), or questionable batteries in the soles of my shoes. It was more along the lines of "minor inconvenience". She wasn't even an historically oppressed personage. Just a regular ol' white woman like me. Then again, she might have had something embarrassing in her suitcase. Still not HORRIFIC. 

Now, I shall freely admit that, as a straight middle-aged white woman, I am generally not a target demographic for oppression, so I can't speak for the experiences of everyone, and perhaps an airport detention is, for some, a terrifying experience due to the historical treatment of their particular people. In some places, that situation can, indeed, be horrific...a beating, a years-long detention without a trial, the possibility of such is very real for some folks and what a terrible thing to have to think about. I am not trying to minimize that. But I think that by applying the term HORRIFIC to inconveniences and perceived offenses, the very real experiences of many folks, that truly are life-alteringly terrible actually ARE minimized. And THAT, folks, is not a thing that should happen.

I blame the national media. We've become sort of numb to the ways of the world, and that means we aren't paying much attention to what's going on in other places. Our attention needs to be focused so there's a reason for a 24-hour news cycle. All that time needs to be filled with IMPORTANT STUFF. So, let's use more and more severe adjectives and adverbs, let's make skin oil and laundry soap something over which WE MUST OBSESS. Let's make a fender-bender or an embarrassing airport search HORRIFIC. 

Another word is LITERALLY. You'll hear some well-fed young person, who skipped breakfast because they overslept and could only get a 1500 calorie Mocha Fralatte W/Extra Caramel and Double Whip On Top through the drive through, whine about being LITERALLY STARVING so they walk to Panera for a turkey sandwich and tomato soup. Hun, you're not LITERALLY STARVING. Here, let me show you a camp in Sudan. A child in Yemen. In fact, chances are, that person isn't LITERALLY anything except maybe privileged beyond the wildest imagination of a child in Yemen. You don't see LITERALLY much in the mass-media, it's more of a cultural lexicon thing, so I'm not blaming them. I will use LITERALLY appropriately occasionally. As is, "I am LITERALLY annoyed that my coffee maker is misbehaving" or "These boots are LITERALLY the most comfortable things I own" I am NOT, however, LITERALLY OBSESSED with either of those things, nor is the idea of getting up in the morning sans coffee a HORRIFIC situation...although it could be...I guess...for the other person in the household (although that situation isn't a thing anymore.)

 And so you don't think I'm LITERALLY a complete grouch a 'la Walter, here is LITERALLY the easiest fudge recipe I've ever found. Seriously. 

Easy Chocolate Fudge

• 1 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk
•  3 cups of chocolate chips, whatever kind. I like Dark
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Mix together everything in a microwave-proof bowl, and zap for 30 seconds at a time, stirring in between, until it's all melted and runny and mixed really well. Pour into a parchment lined 8x8 pan, cover, and refrigerate until firm. (several hours)

Cut into small squares.

You can easily add chopped nuts of whatever variety you like. I like roasted salted pecans. 

The first time I made this I was lazy and just used a bag of chips instead of an entire 3 cups. Still good, but very soft. Don't be like me. Get 2 bags of chips, and reserve the extra for drizzling on top if you feel fancy.

This makes a fairly soft fudge, which can also be rolled into little balls and coated with cocoa powder, toasted nuts or coconut, whatever, then relabeled as truffles, if you want to get super-fancy and make everyone think you're a magician. My next batch I'm going to add a splash of peppermint extract. There's also a coffee extract/flavoring that ok yeah. Mocha truffles. How could that be a bad thing?

If you make truffles, and want to get extra-super fancy, melt a bit more chocolate, sans milk, and after the fudge is rolled into little balls, drizzle the melted chocolate on top and use it to glue a pinch of something- crushed peppermint candies, chopped nuts, or maybe a pinch of coffee grounds- to identify the flavor, especially if the balls are rolled in cocoa powder instead of something indentifyingly obvious (like nuts)

It's the little things

 Capt and I did a lot of big things in our short time together. Travels to places I'd never been, things I'd never done but always wanted to, all these experiences and adventures! I've got some amazing memories now, and pictures to prove them. Isn't it wonderful to be able to look at the things you've done and relive them? Yes it is.

There's a lot of small things too, and those are the ones that daily hugs from him. The Auburn coffee cup he made the HUGE philosophical sacrifice to get. He was a Bama Fan through and through. The warm wrap that matched a dress I liked. Cookbooks. He's everywhere here. I smile, and tear up, and wonder at it. 

Sometimes I get angry, too. Why did this happen? What on EARTH and HEAVEN was God thinking when all this went down? I know He has something in mind, He always does and it's my job to roll with it. I don't like rolling very much. I had to roll when Himself passed away and that was awkward at best, scary too. This time (UGH..."this time") it's not as scary but just as awkward.

I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted. Job 42:2

I'm doing some things now that we didn't do. I have jar candles that make the house smell like Christmas. Capt had a house burn down once, so he was super cautious about flame things and that meant NO CANDLES. Now I have a gorgeous smelling peppermint one in a deep jar and I'm very careful with it. 

I bake squash for breakfast now. A hot, creamy acorn squash with butter and a touch of molasses is a delicious breakfast. In fact, I eat all sorts of things he eschewed. Mostly vegetables. When we met he was a carnivore w/potatoes. By the time he passed away, he subsisted on nutritional shakes and fruit. If there's steaks in Heaven I'm sure he's enjoying them again. 

But there's still chunks of memories and reminders everywhere, just as there are of Himself. Wow...The 2 of them are suffused through my life and my house. 

They say we are an accumulation of our experiences. I love that these 2 men are part of those. I cherish being surrounded by the love they gave me. I look forward to seeing them both again, and telling them that. 

 He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.                                         Revelation 21:4

Sunsets

 

i have this electronic picture frame screen-thing that I can load photos onto, and it puts the image up in a rotation. Right now, it has sunsets. I love sunsets. But right now, seeing these pictures is (just like most things) making me sad. The pictures were all taken on trips Capt and I made. most of the images are from dive trips out into the Gulf. Fun times, and I was just learning to dive. 

As usual, I started thinking too much. Recalling those trips lead me down the Memory Lane, and I started thinking about trips made with Himself as well. Route 66 in the convertible. yes, we did that. Some of it, anyway. That 3 day weekend into the North Georgia mountains, and as soon as we pulled up to the cabin it started to snow. That was pretty magical. Raising 4 kids together. Meals around the dinner table. We had rules for those...no fussing, no talk about video games. Himself and I weren't allowed to chastise, because we wanted the time around the dinner table to be a safe place to talk about anything, without fear.

Then the trips with Capt. The time he took me to Key West and introduced me to stone crab claws, genuine honest-to-real Key Lime pie, the walks through the town, holding hands and enjoying each other. Getting me to take diving lessons, then underwater, holding onto his arm as we glided along, pointing out tiny interesting things. Working on building the greenhouse, the raised garden beds, planting 36 rose bushes across the front of the house, a palm tree. Driving all the way to Charleston to get a giant bag of oyster shells for landscaping. 

Who am I supposed to share these memories with now? Who, when I'm 70, am I going to talk to, sitting on the front porch drinking coffee in the morning?  

I know. I'm not the first person to ever lose a beloved. People gather their wits and move on. As will I. But, I just wanted someone with whom I could share memories, who could see the things I saw and understand them. 

It's like having a big hole there now, and it really sucks. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of being just fine then getting swatted sideways with a wave of grief.

But, I love the sunsets. God makes them beautiful. The sun has set on 2 relationships, and I'm working on coming to terms with it. I'm not bitter about it, just...y'know. Sad. 

Answered prayers

 There's this kinda charming Christian platitude: "God always hears you, and always answers prayers". I have to admit, that gets on my nerves. Often I want to say "NO HE DOESN'T"  I can think of 2 very specific times I had very specific and (to me) SUPER IMPORTANT prayers I wanted answered in very specific ways. 

Heal my husband(s). 

Twice I've had a husband lying in a hospital bed, and having been told my doctors that, barring a miracle from God, they weren't going to survive, I prayed for the miracle. Oh how I prayed. Lots of other people did as well. There were huge and loud amounts of prayer flinging up toward God's Will, asking for Him to give us those miracles.

And God answered. I thought He said "NO". It sure looked like a big NO to me. I thought healing meant those men would wake up and return to life as I knew it. 

God didn't say NO. God healed them in ways I can't even imagine. He released them from the constant aggravation of being human and flawed and living in a world rife with frustration and pain. God gave a resounding and eternal YES to them. He did indeed answer those huge and loud prayers in ways beyond comprehension.

This is the confidence we having in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us- whatever we ask- we know that we have what we asked of him. 1 John 5: 14-15

And the interesting thing is, as their souls left their bodies (I admit I still resent the plurality of that.) I recognized they were healed and was able to thank Him for that. I miss them, I ache for their presences, but I know they're healed and whole, and that's far better than anything I could give them here.

God has given me giant YES's before, of the sort that are undeniably directly from Him. He healed my son, who was supposed to be so badly brain damaged he'd never speak, walk, or get out of bed. Now he's a heavy equipment mechanic, repairing bulldozers and cranes. He said YES, when I said I was lonely and wanted a new love, and dropped Capt into my life. He healed my other sons, came into their lives, and now they are infused with the Holy Spirit and living lives of service to Him. He has provided amply for one who I feared would be homeless. So many answered prayers, so specifically answered and far more generously than I prayed for. I hold onto those answers, to remind me that God provides lovingly and enthusiastically, and in ways beyond my imagination. 

I tell my sons often (particularly when they're seeking a relationship) to remember that true love means you want what's best for that person, even if it isn't you. God truly loves, and provides what's best for His children, even if that provision isn't what I want it to be, because He knows what's best for them. He knew that the best thing for Himself and Capt was to be released from the chains of this world, and most of the time I'm ok with that. Delighted for them, even. (most of the time).

Chrismess pt 2

 When I woke up this morning I thought "hm It's December and all the stuff will be full force. Christmas music (which I used to love but now...hm.) everywhere I turn. 

Have you ever noticed how Christmas music insists you be HAAAPPYYYY all the time! 

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Jingle Bells (Batman smells, Robin laid an egg...that always goes through my mind)

Pick a song, it tells you that you're supposed to be all smiles and bubbles and excited about all the things like snow and eggnog and parties and mess.

I think I'll keep the "radio" (actually, because I'm up on Contemporary Ways, it's XM through the satellite TV because I live out in the boondocks and don't have normal ways) on some instrumental channel run by a Buddhist. If I want a Christmas song I'll hum it to myself.

When you've lost a beloved, whether it's a spouse, a child, a parent, Christmas is TOUGH. Especially that first one. After Himself died, I didn't do Christmas at all. No gifts given, and I didn't want any. I fixed a big meal and called it a day. I used to make the house look like Christmas elves threw up in it. Not a room was left untouched. But the several years after losing Himself....nope. I did get around to putting up a tree a couple of years later but I couldn't bring myself to putting on all the ornaments we'd collected in our travels. Just lights. That was it.

Eventually I restarted with the ornament collection. After I met Capt, I told him what I liked doing and he thought it was a grand idea. So now I have another set to set aside for a while. I am sure eventually I'll feel like putting up a tree and getting out all those small reminders of fun times. But not this year. And that's ok. I've made cookies to give as gifts, and got small things to give to my sons.  I'm ok with that.

I don't think the world should stop just because mine got knocked sideways (AGAIN). I remember thinking, right after both of them died, that it was kind of rude for everything to keep on going as usual for the rest of the world. Couldn't they FEEL the earthquake?  Why are they still breathing, eating, and able to carry on a conversation?? But I know how I am when someone else loses a beloved. My world keeps moving. The difference now is that I really KNOW what they're dealing with, and honestly it brings me to tears, to KNOW how they're hurting and what it feels like. I can honestly pray for their comfort, because I KNOW they need that.

But right now, Christmas is hard. It just IS. Can't nothin' help that except to grin and bear it. I'm keeping to as normal a routine as possible. Wake up, drink coffee, write. Lather, rinse, repeat.  Let the dog out, let the dog back in. Pray for people on my list. Ask God for help through the day. Lather, rinse, repeat. The sameness of the days mean I don't have to think about it too hard. There's a lot that needs doing and I just CAN'T right now. Capt's office...the door stays shut. I'll get to it eventually but not today. The carport. I close my eyes and hurry past. I'll get to it eventually. Not today. No one will suffer if I don't get all those things done. (what the heck am I supposed to do with 1000 fly fishing lures? I don't even know.)

For now, I'll meditate on the miracle of Christ's birth and everything that means to the whole world. It's easier than listening to chronically cheerful music. 

For God so loved the world, He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. John 3:16